By Elizabeth Davies
When I finished primary school my grandparents took me out for dinner to celebrate.
I remember putting on my best clothes and nervously driving to the restaurant with my grandparents, people I’d never really been alone with.
They told me to order whatever I wanted from the menu, so my granddad and I decided to share a crayfish. He taught me how to use the vast array of scary silver tools to separate the succulent flesh from the shell. I even had my very own finger bowl. For the first time in my life food was exciting, interesting, challenging, luxurious.
Food has become a staple part of my life. Every family event centres around a meal. Food is the way I say “I love you”, and “thank you” and “I’m sorry”. Not to mention, shut your face by putting this cupcake in it.
When I was little my mum told me never to turn up to someone’s house empty handed, and I’ve tried to keep up the habit as I’ve got older. In the last year especially I’ve noticed that food seems to have changed a bit. It’s not just about eating anymore. It’s about fashion.
Everyone is suddenly gluten free, organic, free range and soy focussed, and you won’t catch them referring to it as a "dietary decision", rest assured it’s a "lifestyle choice". From quinoa to acai juice and almonds, every week there is a new "super food" that will supposedly change your life forever. These products may help your body but they will seriously hurt your pocket.
I thought I had encountered all forms of snobbery, until I realised there was a whole new breed of snobs with their own standards and rules. Young professionals are the ultimate ambassadors of food snobbery.
With cooking competitions overtaking the beautiful dirty world of reality TV, every second yuppie in his disgustingly well-tailored suit thinks he’s the next Jamie Oliver, destined to score nookie with a half decently cooked meal.
This strange new breed shop exclusively at places like Farro or Nosh, admitting you frequent Pak'nSave will be met with gasps of horror and pity, ( I hear they don’t even stock kale!). These are the same friends that always have more than one choice of alcoholic beverage on offer, and wouldn’t be caught dead with a packed lunch – even if it was in a simply fabulous retro lunchbox.
It all seems to have something to do with the belief that food’s price directly reflects its quality, which, when it comes to a lot of products, just isn’t true.
Food is following the same fashion trends that you find from clothing to home-ware and everything in between. You’re paying for the brand not the food itself.
Just like your Sass & Bide jeans or your Ray Bans, you’re buying your lifestyle, one dehydrated blueberry protein shake at a time.
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*Elizabeth Davies is a 23 year old post graduate journalism student at Auckland University of Technology. She lives with her partner in Epsom and spends her free time refurbishing vintage furniture and attempting to bake while fighting a daily battle against her bank balance. She writes a weekly article for interest.co.nz on money matters and financial struggles from a young person's perspective.
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