One of my favorite quotes from Picasso is “I’d like to live like a pauper, but with lots of money.”
Complicated and multidimensional individual that he was, he didn’t always live up to this idea.
But he did realize the benefit, from the artistic point of view, of a baseline of modest living — some of his most seminal works come from his cold water flat at the Bateau Lavoir, and he, like many artists of his time, were conflicted (read: less than enthralled) by the attention of the mighty and the wealthy. Jackson Pollock, who ran away to The Springs (on the less fashionable side of East Hampton, Long Island) to get away from civilization, used to socialize with the down-to-earth couple who ran the local hardware store, rather than the wealthy collectors who were constantly pestering him for a peek at the latest works of the alcohol-fueled genius.
Speaking of fueled genius, I’ve been looking at vintage BMW M5s recently — I used to own an E34 M5 back in the late 1990s — the M5 was a personification of the wealthy pauper mentality — on the outside, a family sedan, but with a race car engine, manual transmission, and track-tuned suspension, it was a truly bipolar automobile, or a transformer which didn’t change shape, but where the exterior didn’t suggest its actual performance (unless you happened to notice the telltale M5 badge).
Deep in the recesses of my unreliable memory, I recall an article I read in high school where someone had put a Porsche 928 inside of a VW Rabbit — the idea of a wolf in a Rabbit’s exterior appealed to me in a similar way.
There’s a scene in Pretty Woman where Edward (played by Richard Gere) says he always stays at the top suite at the Beverly Wilshire hotel ‘because it’s the best’ — in previous posts I’ve mentioned how I think the relentless pursuit of the best is often vacuous, because of hedonic adjustment, lack of contrast, and all the problems of elevated expectations — but now that I think about it, there’s also the reputational issue: the negative aspect of being known as the kind of person who always has to have it that way; kind of no-fail recipe for Marie Antoinette syndrome.
With income inequality at near all-time highs, flaunting wealth is becoming less acceptable or more risky — kind of like the 1970s, a period in which wealth was more laid back and under cover until the mid-80s, when flamboyance came back into vogue (Miami Vice!). That Teslas have become the choice of many California billionaires attests to its status as an everyday supercar (with performance to match) along with some save-the-planet virtue signaling, but without attracting the sneers of robber baron haters… so what if its bloodlines aren’t from the track, like Ferrari or Porsche?
Misleading exteriors
I wouldn’t know, but I hear fame can be oppressive. Perhaps the best example of this are superheroes — they all (as far as I’m aware) have alter egos, because even though it would save them from having to dive into phone booths or down Bat Caves for rapid costume changes, spending all of your time in your overt superhero persona would be just untenable. Therefore, there is a rather practical need for Clark Kent, Diana Prince, and Bruce Wayne.
[Come to think of it, there doesn’t seem to be a similar need for movie villains to have alternate personalities — some do, but not to the same extent. Many Bond villains seem quite happy being constantly evil, but separate themselves from the masses by hiding in some remote lair filled with nameless henchmen.]
Compared to fame, overt wealth is probably worse, because people are always asking you for money, or worse, targeting to steal your wealth — while having either no idea, or a skewed narrative of where your money came from. Fame attracts polar camps, both fans and haters, but the fans are usually more vocal (so more autograph requests than rotten eggs), and your fans are generally familiar with what talents made you famous.
My last image is the F-35 Lightning stealth fighter — it has considerable stealth capabilities, comparable to a metal golf ball on radar screens, according to some accounts, rendering it essentially invisible from far away; but up close, it’s an awesome example of both aviation and weapons technology (and budget overruns, to be fair).
So how does one live like a wealthy pauper — and what are the advantages of such a lifestyle?
Stealth wealthians
The attraction of this approach depends on your value systems, so it makes no sense to prescribe this for everyone. If you aspire to be like a social media influencer, or a Real Housewife (what an oxymoron!), this is not the track for you. Warren Buffett appears to take it to an extreme, since he is well-known for his unchanged frugal lifestyle as well as for his wealth — though one wonders why he’s less concerned about his health wealth (he regularly eats at McDonald’s and favors full-sugar Cherry Coke).
Misdirection
Hidden like the F-35 Lightning, strangers won’t think much of you, and will treat you indifferently, but your intimates will be familiar with your modus operandi and your cached talents. You will need to be comfortable (rather than constantly outraged) when people routinely misjudge you. This gap will create potential drama, so this strategy has its downsides.
For some of us, being underestimated carries with it a certain level of fun — we can throw out little hints of our alter egos — until our counterpart breaks down and directly asks about these other dimensions, or we unsheath our claws, morph into our super-persona, or perform a magical act which reveals how deeply we have been underestimated. Not every perception gap will be filled, of course, so there needs to be acceptance that some people will remain oblivious to the stealth superhero in their midst.
Misdirection can be accomplished in many ways — dressing a certain way is an easy one; body language is another. Language (and accents) are harder to pull off, and perhaps for that reason they are often used for pre-judgements; the trope of assuming someone doesn’t speak a language (but they DO!) and the general hilarity that ensues is quite common, especially for rare combinations.
I was watching The Accountant the other day (Ben Affleck, Anna Kendrick), which reminded me that the secret cache (in his case, a 34’7” Airstream Panamerica) is often a sign of a secret life and hidden talents — the stash of exotic weapons, various currencies, credit cards, and passports (and a Jackson Pollock on the ceiling). It’s even more fun when the principal has amnesia (the Bourne Identity scene where he finds the safe deposit box), so he knows they are clues to his other life which he cannot remember.
Perception gaps and embedded drama
Since most people won’t think twice about you, there will be plenty of occasions when you periodically show what you are capable of, or have someone recognize you (social proof), and create a micro dramatic sequence as the perception gap closes.
In Goodfellas (Ray Liotta RIP), there is a famous long shot sequence when Henry is taking Karen the back way into an exclusive night club, and she’s wondering what’s going on because he seems to know everyone and commands enormous respect — eventually they bring over a new table in the center of the action and she thinks — who is this guy, and have I totally misjudged him?
Social proof is an excellent way to close gaps, it resets the expectations of strangers around the higher opinion of reputable intermediaries, like when you go into a restaurant/club and the staff greets you by name and treats you in an effusively accommodating way. This happened to me once at a street dance competition, and I was instantly transformed from a weird old dude into a mysterious OG.
The nobody-to-somebody transition is generally a pleasant / amusing / satisfying one — the “Big Mistake” scene in Pretty Woman when Vivian is treated like trash at the Beverly Hills boutique, but comes back elegantly dressed with an armful of couture, or the transformation of Wesley from office wimp to cold blooded assassin in Wanted. Many other movie examples exist, it’s practically a standard plot structure.
By coincidence, one movie I put on this week (without knowing the plot in advance) was Nobody with Bob Odenkirk and Connie Nielsen - it was the story of a seeming “Nobody” who, as the story unfolds, is an extreme somebody with a raft of hidden talents, but who has sublimated his superhero persona for a long time (even from his family).
The various Undercover Boss series highlight the basic idea that the markings of status (and wealth) can introduce large information biases – rather misleading views of how people actually perceive you — as well as how you might be treated if that wealth were to vanish one day (as it has a periodic habit of doing), while giving a far more intimate view of ‘life on the ground’ than could ever be imagined from the penthouse floors.
Reverse gaps: takedowns of the overestimated
The opposite of this phenomenon is the “do you know who I am?” situation, which is rarely a good look, because the protagonist is typically someone with an inflated view of their own worth, and the world is waiting for reasons to close the gap in a satisfying way. Although some of these confrontations result in the admission that the principal’s status is indeed higher than expected, this manner of dealing with it is usually ineffective compared to more delicate approaches.
These situations devolve into a power contest — the unknown is representing that they deserve better treatment, while the staff is trying to justify that their first impression assessment was indeed correct.
Perhaps this explains the satisfying nature of the social media takedowns of entitled “Karens” (and their male counterparts - Ken Kevin Chad) — since they are delusional in believing they have rights and privileges in excess of reality, it is satisfying to see them rant and rave and finally get arrested, Tasered, or booed when the reality is finally enforced.
Although Daniel Mac has made a ‘career’ of asking people in flashy cars what they do for a living (and then the terrific follow-up question of whether they went to college), mostly these feel like reverse takedowns — even in the highlights, the owners seem pretty mundane (or outright embarrassed to reveal their morally questionable source of their funds), using an exotic ride (or seven) to add either sparkle to their tedium or a degree of validation to their social insecurities.
Life outlook
From an external point of view, another way to think of the Picasso approach is that it is preferable to be generally underestimated from a distance, and appreciated up close — than the opposite. It is also less stressful to be underestimated when you have Wolverine-like claws to close perception gaps when necessary.
The age of the social influencer has created the PR tools for people to manage their image from a distance, which tends to diverge widely from their actual reality because of a careful curation of moments and lighting angles (related to the “short actor in Hollywood problem”). This creates opportunities for takedowns (differential between crafted image and mundane reality), as well as a latent hunger for positive (hard work leads to success) stories because they appear to be increasingly rare.
Perhaps a better argument is that it helps decorrelate the easy but misleading connection between larger values and wealth - it is easy to fall into a world full of cliches of what to do with money (champagne and caviar lifestyles etc), but for most reasonable people, at some point there is usually a point of realization where high end consumerism doesn’t fulfill our deeper needs (Maslow was at least partially correct!).
Picasso pauperism helps solve this common dilemma by rebasing our standards while still allowing (periodically) the fruits of our efforts, letting our radar chart of happiness expand in multiple directions rather than just one — allowing us to focus on more fertile dimensions for pursuing whatever it is we call happiness.
Fantastic read, thanks again Chris. Your ability to pull random references from life makes your essays so fun.