Thursday, August 05, 2004
File under: Naco, White Trash and Other Sure Signs of an Immanent Apocalypse
That's right, Naco. Apparently "Naco" is Mexican (yes, Mexican) for "Trashy." Only that's not quite precise. To Solomon, a friend of Steph's from Mexico City, Naco is how you would describe someone who cuts in line at the bank. According to NPR's Day to Day, Naco could mean that, yes. And it could translate into other not-so-nice qualities.Mexico there's a growing popularity for Naco. I'm Naco; you're Naco. At least, if you're cool, you're Naco. Not according to Solomon. But according to Mexican kids these days.
You won't catch Solomon wearing any "Nakissimo" t-shirts any time soon. You won't find me wearing any trucker hats either. Nevertheless, the appeal of trash-chic has me thinking. Is Naco-ism a good or bad thing?
I tried to argue the point--over foie gras, seared ahi, and caprese samplers--that trash-chic is a symbol of a culture on the verge of something significant, if not great. When a culture has popularized the base class it has come into its own. It has embraced itself through irony. It has gone low-key, perhaps. Or simply revelled in a kind of chafing of the norm usually only fit for artists, intellectuals and nerds. In short, a culture that loves it's crassest parts can't be all that bad, right?
While I pictured Johan's eccentric aunt Ellen--an artist and life-long, committed free spirit--Steph and Solomon quietly shook thier heads. The mental images they had must have been Aston Kucher and Lenny Kravitz, whose own over-the-top regalia knows has no sense of itself (or any world around it, for that matter). While I like to think of Trashy as an extension of Ecclecticism, they see it as the wanton sprawl of bad ideas. While imagine a primordial soup of knick-knacky wisdom, they see attack of the killer tomatoes, substituting shag carpet for man-sized tomatoes.
True enough. A culture on the brink is a culture so full of itself it can invent nothing new. Think Queen Elizabeth I. Think Caligula. Still, you will not find me donning anything more on my head than a Shiner Bock golf hat. Talk about the end of culture.
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