Perfume: Foolish frippery, or moral refuge?

Last night I attended the annual autumn dinner held by Nashville's Slow Food convivium. If you click here for the local events calendar, you'll get an idea of what these gatherings are like--and what they cost. Last night it was $40 per person, an extra $35 if you opted to have the wines with each course. The quarterly dinners (we were a little late for the Equinox this year) are held in one of the best restaurants in town, Margot Cafe, and the food is always excellent. Most of it is locally produced, and the farmers generally make a brief appearance so we can applaud their hard work before getting back to the cider-braised pork.

All in all, the dinners are an exercise in righteous foodiehood, and I'd be a liar if I said I didn't enjoy them. I always go with farmer friend Jenny, who sometimes provides the meat, and she brings me up to date on the latest drama at the farm. (There's always drama at the farm.) It couldn't be nicer to share a fine meal with a friend in a lovely place, and feel connected to all the people that made it possible.

But I wouldn't be my tiresome self if I didn't think about the irony of the whole thing. There we all sat, basking in the warm glow of the wine and our own virtue, enjoying our affluence and patting ourselves on the back. The "eat local" movement draws in people from across the political spectrum, and many of the people involved with Slow Food really take an interest in global agriculture policy. But events like the autumn dinner are heavily attended, as you might expect, by the hardcore foodie contingent, for whom the Slow philosophy is more fad than commitment. It's another way of showing how serious they are about eating. These days, the homegrown tomato has all the cachet of caviar and none of the guilt.

I don't really begrudge the foodies their virtuous posturing. How could I, since I'm right there with them? It's just that there's something about their ferocious gourmet passion, their excessive investment in the delights of eating, that makes the ethical question harder to put aside. It just seems wrong to care so much about the pure pleasure of food when so many people are going hungry, or are growing obese on lousy, nutrient-poor food because it's all they can afford.

I'm not opposed to pleasure--this is BitterGrace the perfume freak talking. The thing about perfume, though, is that we all know it's ultimately frippery and foolishness. There's very little at stake, and you don't have to grapple with any big questions when you get obscenely excited over a new scent. Perfume is never a matter of life or death. Food always is, for somebody.

I just wish someone had said that last night. I wish I'd said it. But that would make me a buzzkill. And then they might not let me come back next time...


*Food and agricultural policy issues are so labyrinthine--to me anyway--that I make only intermittent attempts to understand them. Here are some interesting websites, in case you want to give it a shot:
Institute for Agriculture and Trade Policy
Ag Observatory
KickAAS