- Have we really avoided 14,000 coronavirus deaths?
- AI doctors outperform their fleshy counterparts, but still we don’t trust them
- Cryptozoology: The scientific study of fictional animals
- The parallels between ‘Taxi Driver’ and the incel movement
- After a six-year battle, Malka Leifer may finally be extradited
After a page of Paul McCartney’s scribblings sold for almost $1 million, the stuffed shirts at Yale have attempted to unpack why we can’t leave celebrity trinkets alone.
Last week, a pile of Beatles memorabilia went under the hammer (and auction created to celebrate the fiftieth year of their split), with Paul McCartney’s hand-written outline for Hey, Jude selling for almost a million actual dollars.
Interestingly, an ashtray used to catch the ash of a cigarette once smoked by Ringo Starr fetched a mind-boggling $32,500.
The question, of course, is why.
Psychologists at Yale University have found that people are driven to spend big on the possessions of our dearly departed stars – the famous, and the infamous – because it has what is called “contagion”.
It’s a belief that a person’s “essence,” what researchers define as a person’s immaterial qualities (think of it as the belief in a soul), can be transferred to an object through physical contact.
Of course, this means that the more something has been touched, the more of someone’s “essence” will be transferred. More essence, more value.
This is what makes celebrity clothing as in-demand (and somewhat disgusting, if you really think about it) as it is in auctions across the Internet. By ways of an example, the dress Marilyn Monroe wore as she sang “Happy birthday, Mr President” to JFK sold for $6.5 million dollars.
Thankfully, the concept of celebrity touch driving up buyer desire is just one of three theories as to why exactly there is a market for the items celebrities once held dear. Or wore. Or sat on.
Another theory is that of association between the item and a memory, or feeling of nostalgia. Seeing a jacket your favourite actor wore in the 1990s will make you recall the 1990s and the joy seeing that actor gave you.
But then, this doesn’t account for items that belonged to people who were celebrities for all the wrong reasons. The psychologists’ cheery example is that of Saddam Hussein, who you would hope no-one remembered fondly.
If it is the association between the item and the actions of that celebrity being remembered in a positive light which lead to nostalgic purchasers, surely no one would be snapping up the dictator’s buttocks, or the rope that hanged him?
Except people did. Remarkably, the rope used to hang Hussein went to auction at a massive 7 million US dollars. Even more remarkably, Hussein’s bronze “buttock” – taken from his equally bronze statue – also found its way onto the bidding scene.
It failed to sell, receiving a £21,000 bid, well below the entirely reasonable reserve price of £250,000. With it, a major opportunity for post-modern artistic interpretation missed.
The study indicates we believe a person’s “essence” can be transferred to an object through physical contact.
The final theory is as cold as it is most likely: market value. Celebrity possessions are often one-of-a-kind, and therefore a very rare find. Recognising this scarcity, and the significance the item may hold for those that fall in the association (or touchy-feely contagion) camp, connoisseurs buy up, in order to sell high.
Like any good chicken-egg theory, there’s a train of thought derailing paradox. After all, what is it that makes buyers want these items anyway? There has to be an emotional factor, either in the attachment to the item itself, or sentimentality for the former owner.
For contagion to play a role, you have to have liked the person and had an admiration for them at a significant length.
The fact that an Iraqi tyrant’s booty could be even considered for purchase kind of shoots this theory the foot. You might see Hussein as being a part of history, but it’s very unlikely you see him in a nostalgic way.
In the end, the “why” behind buying what was once a dear celebrity’s armchair remains a mystery, in combination with supply and demand and subjective desire.
Some auctions, like that of Monroe’s dress, are sold to organisations who wish to display them as a piece of historical information. That I can understand.
In the end, I’m not a millionaire, so I probably can’t put myself in their shoes. But maybe a few million would do well in buying a new house, or a few hundred cars – or, dare I say, being given to charity.
Or maybe the thought of sitting where President Kennedy did is just too good to pass up.
On a still-living note, Britney Spears’ already-chewed-gum sold for roughly $14,000 and apparently is one of many wads that regularly make an appearance on eBay. Disgusting, yes, but she too will pass one day.
Wad of gum today, wad of cash tomorrow.