Consumer Culture Theory 9781787542860, 9781787542853, 9781787542877

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CONSUMER CULTURE THEORY

RESEARCH IN CONSUMER BEHAVIOR Series Editor: Russell W. Belk Recent Volumes: Volumes 1–14: Volume 15: Volume 16: Volume 17: Volume 18: Volume 19:

Research in Consumer Behavior Consumer Culture Theory Consumer Culture Theory Consumer Culture Theory Consumer Culture Theory Consumer Culture Theory

RESEARCH IN CONSUMER BEHAVIOR  VOLUME 20

CONSUMER CULTURE THEORY EDITED BY

DOMEN BAJDE

University of Southern Denmark, Denmark

DANNIE KJELDGAARD

University of Southern Denmark, Denmark

RUSSELL W. BELK York University, Canada

United Kingdom – North America – Japan India – Malaysia – China

Emerald Publishing Limited Howard House, Wagon Lane, Bingley BD16 1WA, UK First edition 2019 Copyright © 2019 Emerald Publishing Limited Reprints and permissions service Contact: [email protected] No part of this book may be reproduced, stored in a retrieval system, transmitted in any form or by any means electronic, mechanical, photocopying, recording or otherwise without either the prior written permission of the publisher or a licence permitting restricted copying issued in the UK by The Copyright Licensing Agency and in the USA by The Copyright Clearance Center. Any opinions expressed in the chapters are those of the authors. Whilst Emerald makes every effort to ensure the quality and accuracy of its content, Emerald makes no representation implied or otherwise, as to the chapters’ suitability and application and disclaims any warranties, express or implied, to their use. British Library Cataloguing in Publication Data A catalogue record for this book is available from the British Library ISBN: 978-1-78754-286-0 (Print) ISBN: 978-1-78754-285-3 (Online) ISBN: 978-1-78754-287-7 (Epub) ISSN: 0885-2111 (Series)

CONTENT List of Contributors

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List of Figures

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List of Tables

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Introduction  Consumer Culture Fairy Tales Domen Bajde, Dannie Kjeldgaard and Russell W. Belk

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PART I OBJECTS AND THEIR DOINGS Chapter 1  Love and Locks: Consumers Making Pilgrimages and Performing Love Rituals Stéphane Borraz

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Chapter 2  The Life and Death of Anthony Barbie: A Consumer Culture Tale of Lovers, Butlers, and Crashers Luciana Walther

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Chapter 3  “When Your Dog Matches Your Decor”: Object Agency of Living and Non-living Entities in Home Assemblage Henna Syrjälä and Anu Norrgrann

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Chapter 4  “I’m Only a Guardian of these Objects”: Vintage Traders, Curatorial Consumption and the Meaning(s) of Objects Omar Khaled Abdelrahman, Emma Banister and Daniel Hampson

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PART II GLOCALIZATION Chapter 5  Story of Cool: Journey from the West to Emerging Arab Countries Hela Zouaoui and Fatma Smaoui

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vi Content

Chapter 6  Ethnic Identification: Capital and Distinction among Second-generation British Indians Anuja Pradhan, Hayley Cocker and Margaret K. Hogg

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Chapter 7  Cognitive Polyphasia, Cultural Legitimacy and Behavior Change: The Case of the Illicit Alcohol Market in Kenya Virginia N. Mwangi, Hayley L. Cocker and Maria G. Piacentini

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PART III CONSTITUTING MARKETS Chapter 8  Magic Towns: Creating the Consumer Fetish in Market Research Test Sites Stefan Schwarzkopf

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Chapter 9  Humanizing Market Relationships: The DIY Extended Family Lydia Ottlewski, Johanna F. Gollnhofer and John W. Schouten

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Chapter 10  Patriotism as Creative (Counter-)Conduct of Russian Fashion Designers Olga Gurova

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Chapter 11  Culinary Communication Practices: The Role of Retail Spaces in Producing Field-specific Cultural Capital Cristina Galalae, Julie Emontspool and Omid Omidvar

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PART IV QUOTH THE RAVEN Chapter 12  Duck, it’s a Raven! Writing Stirring Stories with Andersen’s Sinister Shadow Stephen Brown

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Index197

LIST OF CONTRIBUTORS Omar Khaled Abdelrahman

University of Manchester, UK

Domen Bajde

University of Southern Denmark, Denmark

Emma Banister

University of Manchester, UK

Russell W. Belk

Schulich School of Business, York University, UK

Stéphane Borraz

EDC Paris Business School, France

Stephen Brown

Ulster University, Northern Ireland

Hayley L. Cocker

Lancaster University, UK

Julie Emontspool

University of Southern Denmark, Denmark

Cristina Galalae

Coventry University, UK

Johanna F. Gollnhofer

University of Southern Denmark, Denmark

Olga Gurova

Aalborg University, Denmark

Daniel Hampson

University of Manchester, UK

Margaret K. Hogg

Lancaster University, UK

Dannie Kjeldgaard

University of Southern Denmark, Denmark

Virginia N. Mwangi

Lancaster University, UK

Anu Norrgrann

Hanken School of Economics, Finland

Omid Omidvar

Aston University, UK

Lydia Ottlewski

University of St. Gallen, Switzerland

Maria G. Piacentini

Lancaster University, UK

Anuja Pradhan

Lancaster University, UK

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List of Contributors

John W. Schouten

Memorial University of Newfoundland, Canada

Stefan Schwarzkopf

Copenhagen Business School, Denmark

Fatma Smaoui

University of Tunis, Tunisia

Henna Syrjälä

University of Vaasa, Finland

Luciana Walther

Federal University of Sao Joao Del Rei, Brazil

Hela Zouaoui

University of Tunis, Tunisia

LIST OF FIGURES Chapter 3 Chapter 4

Fig. 1. The Agency of Non-human and Human, Living and Non-living Entities. Fig. 2. Distributed and Shared Agency in Relations Between Human, Animal, and Material Object.

43 46

Fig. 1. One of Jamie’s Scientific Instruments: A Portable Potentiometer with Instructions for its “Use and Care.”

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Fig. 1. Five Shades of Cool: Spectrum of Meanings of Coolness. Fig. 2.  Semiotic Square of Cool.

78 80

Chapter 7

Fig. 1.  Process Theorization of Changing Perceptions.

Chapter 5

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LIST OF TABLES Chapter 1 Table 1.  Face-to-Face Interviews. Table 2. The Three Sequences of the Love Lock Ritual.

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Chapter 3 Table 1.  Data Sets of the Research.

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Chapter 5 Table 1.  Meanings of Cool and its Opposites.

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Chapter 6 Table 1.  Informants’ Demographic Profiles.

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Chapter 7 Table 1.  Summary of Data Sources.

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Chapter 11 Table 1. Market Practices and Forms of Culinary Capital Exchanged at Food Festivals.

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INTRODUCTION – CONSUMER CULTURE FAIRY TALES Domen Bajde, Dannie Kjeldgaard and Russell W. Belk

This volume presents a selection of competitive papers submitted to the 13th Consumer Culture Theory (CCT) Conference held in Odense, Denmark, June 28 to July 1. This year’s conference witnessed a very strong set of submissions. Despite being persistently interrupted by quothful ravens, we managed to select a dozen papers to feature in this volume. Given the conference’s thematic emphasis on storytelling we aimed to select chapters that would tell stories that open our eyes and minds to new ideas, theories, and contexts. The papers selected for this volume are presented along three narrative lines that were prevalent during the conference, and which to some extent also reflect the tradition of CCT inspired research in Odense. The first thematic part, Objects and Their Doings, reflects a research theme in CCT and elsewhere, that has developed over the last decade or so, namely, research on materiality and object agency informed by the traditions such as Actor-network theory, assemblage theory, and post-humanist perspectives. We open this part with a chapter on ritual doings. Borraz investigates a romantic ritual in which material objects and sites (i.e., locks, bridges, and railings) play a central role. His study of love-lock pilgrimage unravels how love becomes enacted as a sacred and enduring reality through variable, yet patterned and loosely scripted assemblages of mythology, materiality, and performance. The second chapter in this part by Walther, investigates erotic consumption cycles as co-constituted by subjects and objects, exploring the agency of objects upon the consumption subject and vice versa. Furthermore, Walther explores how erotic products change meaning and agency through the consumption cycle through repurposing and personification. This is followed by Syrjälä and Norrgrann’s chapter, which investigates the distribution and fluctuation of agency across the multiple actants that enact the home. Rather than providing a (yet another) demonstration of the agency of objects, the authors investigate the ways in which

Consumer Culture Theory Research in Consumer Behavior, Volume 20, 1–3 Copyright © 2019 by Emerald Publishing Limited All rights of reproduction in any form reserved ISSN: 0885-2111/doi:10.1108/S0885-211120190000020002

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agency is shared among human and non-human entities (i.e., objects and pets), and the manner in which the power of these actants oscillates. While the final chapter of the part, authored by Abdelrahman, Banister, and Hampson, does not explicitly focus on object agency and power, it does touch upon the power, and the vulnerability, of objects. Namely, the authors stress that the power, and the “need,” of historic objects to compel people to care for them, are greater than previously recognized. Their study of vintage traders explains why and how people become guardians of historic objects that are not their family heirlooms. The chapter, thereby, nicely complements the previous two chapters in this part by unpacking the human commitment and work required for (social) preservation of objects. The second theme reflects a well-established research domain in CCT: Glocalization. This rather broad umbrella contains both interests in consumer acculturation theory, markets with emergent consumer cultures, and West–rest interactions at the intersection of global flows and local contexts. The first chapter in this part by Zouaoui and Smaoui is a classic glocalization theme, the cultural appropriation of globalizing Western forms of consumer culture. In this case, how the concept of cool is given meaning in a Tunisian context. Here “cool” is associated with, for example, lightness, fun, and humor, as opposed to the Western conceptions of cool as being about, for example, creativity and individuality. The second chapter by Pradhan, Cocker, and Hogg, reflects another glocalization classic namely ethnic identification in a migrant context. Exploring middle-class Hindu second-generation British Indian women’s use of various cultural resources for ethnic identification, the authors use a Bourdieusian lens to show that ethnic identification is also a matter of accumulation of capital and power vis-á-vis other ethnic groups and the white majority group. The last chapter by Mwangi, Cocker, and Piacentini sets the scene for the later part on market constitution. Drawing on social representation theory and the notion of cognitive polyphasia, the chapter explores delegitimation practices of illicit alcohol in a Kenyan context. Specifically, how mixes of traditional and contemporary knowledge systems are mobilized in a cultural change process. While not decidedly positioned as a glocalization story, the chapter’s use of a context in which several knowledge systems operate and interact demonstrates the benefit of empirical studies in contexts less studied in our field for new theorization. The third part, Constituting Markets, reflects an interest in the CCT tradition in looking at markets and their subjects and objects from what might loosely be labeled a social constructivist approach. That is, an interest in how market constellations and relations come into being and the cultural outcomes of market(ing) activities. The first chapter in this part, written by Schwarzkopf investigates a curious example of market (knowledge) construction. Namely, it investigates the hybrid, socio-technical assemblage of market-research test towns, and the subsequent work of purification and fetishizing through which a nationally “representative” town and the “average” consumer come into existence. Whereas, Schwarzkopf’s study invites CCT researchers to explore market testing as a

Introduction

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cultural, socio-technical performance, the second chapter in this part invites us to consider performances through which market relationships and arrangements become humanized. Ottlewski, Gollnhofer, and Schouten outline how in the context of alternative elderly care systems consumers move beyond transactional relationships, engage in shared consumption experiences, and reinforce social bonds through giving. These strategies of humanization enable the elderly and their caretakers to build extended family relationships within a market system. The chapter by Gurova explores how a prolific contemporary political theme, namely patriotism, is articulated and perpetuated by consumer cultural intermediaries in Russia. Using a governmentality perspective, Gurova demonstrates how fashion designers’ interpretation of patriotism is generative of and manifest in a number of more specific patriotic themes. The final chapter on constituting markets by Galalae, Emontspool, and Omidvar explores how contemporary consumer culture festivals as examples of retail spaces are generative of field-specific forms of cultural capital. Engagement with marketplace cultures through a range of practices, such as food festivals, is hence constitutive of new and emergent fields of power and statuses through producer–consumer interaction and hence generative of new market dynamics. Finally, the volume concludes with a chapter by Brown who takes a critical look at the quality of storytelling in the CCT tradition, and pointedly questions the ease with which we (dare to) claim kinship with great storytellers of past. Should we persist in this act of self-delusion, then let us at least replace Andersen with Poe, a poet our “adolescent, self-harm-prone subdiscipline that’s struggling to find itself and make its way in the world” can learn so much from. The paper also won the Per Østergaard award for the most philosophically inspiring paper, an honor befitting Brown’s punchy, testy, and jesty performance. Looking at the chosen dozen, we propose that the chapters are not only diverse in their choice of theoretical approaches and research contexts, but also in terms of engaging with dialogues in disciplines adjacent to the CCT field. As attested by several special sessions and roundtables at the 2018 CCT conference that directly engaged with anthropological, sociological, markets studies, and other research communities, openness and diversity are the best recipe to keep CCT relevant and fun. Finally, as attested by unnamed chapters in this volume, and this introduction in particular, most of us have indeed a long way to go, as far as good storytelling and poetic expression goes.

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PART I OBJECTS AND THEIR DOINGS

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CHAPTER 1 LOVE AND LOCKS: CONSUMERS MAKING PILGRIMAGES AND PERFORMING LOVE RITUALS Stéphane Borraz

ABSTRACT Purpose: This study contributes to understanding how consumers perform new rituals of love and gather in pilgrimage sites. Methodology/Approach: Five years of engagement with 21 consumers involving prolonged observations and unstructured in-depth interviews provided the empirical evidence for this chapter. Findings: Consumers’ love rituals are better explained by considering not only consumers’ actions and performances but also their physical environment. The authors found that love rituals are rites of passage following three sequences of a script. By using the religious connotation of pilgrimage, the authors highlight the importance of the location of rituals, as well as material objects. Providing contrasting perspectives, the authors also show that rituals follow substantial variations and display the instability and ambiguity of its symbolic meanings. Originality/Value: By doing so, the authors contribute to research about rituals, singularized objects, and love relationships. More importantly, this research contributes by demonstrating the need to enrich studies of consumers rituals with historical and cultural perspectives, and transdisciplinary investigations. Keywords: Love; ritual; pilgrimage; space; materiality; mythology

Consumer Culture Theory Research in Consumer Behavior, Volume 20, 7–21 Copyright © 2019 by Emerald Publishing Limited All rights of reproduction in any form reserved ISSN: 0885-2111/doi:10.1108/S0885-211120190000020004

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Pilgrimage belongs to the vocabulary of religious systems, doctrines, and the sacred, and ritual is an essential concept of anthropologic studies. Still, in a more secular context, consumers perform many rituals in their everyday life, and some specific, important locations for entertainment or consumption are modern-day modern pilgrimage sites. The concept of pilgrimage is rarely implemented in consumer research although “intensification” experiences occur increasingly in themed commercial environments. Recent theoretical developments on pilgrimage by Eade and Sallnow (2013) regarding its conflictual aspects are understudied yet they would highlight the complexity of a social performance from different perspectives. On the other hand, after important contributions to ritual theory with structuralist anthropology, the concept of ritual was neglected by a new generation of anthropologists due to its contradictions, limits, and the suspicion of ethnocentrism. Still, a new interest for kinship, role performances (Wulf & Gabriel, 2005) and the need to analyze contemporary rituals led to renewed interest in the concept. Rook (1985) studied the ritual dimension of consumer behavior and underscored that rituals consist of a string of events, a script. He demonstrated the central role of four tangible components (artifacts, script, performance role, and audience) and focused on individual behavior (body language and mental and physical behaviors). In this research, we specifically seek (1) to underscore the importance of a neglected feature in ritual theory; we aim at building upon Rook (1985) by showing new interest for other components at play during rituals and investigating the role of location during ritual performances. We argue that these places are true pilgrimage sites. By doing so, (2) we demonstrate the instability and ambiguity of symbolic meanings in rituals, underscoring its dynamic and non-static dimensions and enabling changes as well as adaptation. Finally, (3) we focus on the contextual and historical background that supports the practice and investigate how consumers behave according to symbolic and mythological unconscious frameworks beyond simple observation. To position our research, we present literature that grounds our perspectives and assumptions.

CONCEPTUAL BACKGROUND Originally, pilgrimages were intended for the worship of relics during a sacred journey (Geary, 1986). Relics demonstrate the possibilities of transfiguration of the material substance; they empowered artifacts with a sacred agency (Preziosi & Farago, 2012). The ultimate goal for a pilgrim is to accomplish several rituals such as praying, approaching the relics, making a wish, and requesting or thanking the divinity by holding an ex voto and bringing back some evidence of coming, such as “locus sanctus” souvenirs (Hahn, 1990). In consumer research, by investigating contemporary pilgrimage centers connected to religion or spirituality, scholars show how sites across the world have also become marketed (Higgins & Hamilton, 2016; Rinallo, Scott, & Maclaran, 2013). For O’Guinn and Belk (1989), the religious theme park Heritage Village is an explicit synthesis of worship and shopping. On the other hand, scholars also studied new secular

Love and Locks: Consumers Making Pilgrimages and Performing Love Rituals

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pilgrimage centers that are not based on traditional religious beliefs. They found that during their journey, consumer-pilgrims are looking for the same delivery of extraordinary experiences in amusement parks (Moore, 1980), or in sacred natural places such as “magic rivers” (Arnould & Price, 1993). The theoretical framework of pilgrimage allows consumption scholars specifically to investigate the three phases of rites of passage, transformation and rediscovery of self, connection to the sacred, and the importance of the communitas in the ritual. Ritual theory highlights the performances that unfold during pilgrimages. Rituals are normative symbolic acts performed to allow symbolic changes (Strathern, 2015). Despite some controversies (Goody, 1977), the concept presents new interest for the study of contemporary secular rituals which contain no element or reference to a transcendental power (Warburg, 2015). Rituals involve seriousness, mental investment, intense, and meaningful experience for individuals and persist across generations. Rituals are seen as action and embodied performances where institutions “enroll their objectives, values and social norms in bodies.” Scholars used the ritual dimension in consumer behavior (for a review, see Rook, 1985) as an extraordinary experience, described at the etic level as a scripted sequence of events and involving tangible components such as artifacts, script, performance roles, and audience. Analyzing the rituals specific to pilgrimages, Turner and Turner (1978) show the relevance of the concept of rite of passage (Gennep, 1909), displaying a sequencing of three essential phases. In the first pre-liminal phase of separation, pilgrims leave their daily habits; in the second transitional liminal phase, they enter the enclosure of the sacred place and suspended time during which normative social constraints are suspended (status, class, and nationality). The last liminal phase opens up pilgrims to experience direct “communitas” fellowship with others and the sacred. In contrast to Turner and Turner’s focus on social harmony during the suspended time of pilgrimage, Eade and Sallnow (2013) show the conflictual aspects of pilgrimage when people assign different meanings to the same site. As such, the pilgrimage provides a political “arena for competing discourse, religious meanings, orthodoxies” and highlights the complexity of a social performance from different perspectives. By engaging with this theoretical framework, we aim to investigate how consumers act when they move to pilgrimage places to demonstrate love and feelings with ritual performances in such places.

CONTEXTUALIZATION The origins of the Parisian love locks ritual come from an Italian novel by Federico Moccia, Ho voglia di te (2006) that inspired readers to attach locks to bridges in Rome to express romantic love. The ritual became famous and mimics immediately spread in other cities worldwide. The first padlocks appeared on the Pont des Arts bridge in Paris in 2008, spreading quickly thereafter. In 2014, the City Hall of Paris faced security concerns as two railings collapsed under the weight of the locks, following which they unsuccessfully attempted to promote a selfie campaign instead of locks to end the practice. However, the practice kept

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increasing with an estimated 1 million locks on the Pont des Arts and extends to 11 other bridges (mainly Pont de l’Archevéché) and other landmarks. Collapsing railings were replaced with wooden panels until a solution was found in 2015, with the installation of protective glass panels and removal of the locks from the Pont des Arts and the Pont de l’Archevéché. A temporary art installation was set up until final changes were made. In 2017, a successful auction sale was organized, and the removed love locks were sold by set or by complete railings. While it is no longer possible to add locks on the glass screens of the two bridges, locks are visible on lamp posts and other parts of the bridge as well as other landmarks (such as the Alma victory flame and the Eiffel Tower). While the practice spread (2010–2015) and extended to other bridges, cities, and landmarks, various stakeholders voiced objections. From citizen associations or community organizations, the objections raised several concerns that may be conflated or not according to their political agendas. They denounced the narrowness of a conception of love where individuals are “locked,” and highlighted the inauthenticity of a “so-called Parisian tradition.” They underscored the security concerns of collapsing railings, the pollution of keys thrown into the river, and visual pollution that damages the architectural view from and onto the bridge. Finally, they asserted that such a magical practice is irrational and has no real effects. The huge quantities of padlocks that are held on the bridges and historical landmarks quickly became a difficult issue for a local institutional actor, namely the Town Hall of Paris. Because of the heavy dependence of Paris toward the tourism industry, some fear was expressed that a hasty decision would damage the image of Paris as the “city of love” and would affect tourist flows. For this reason, the Town Hall of Paris looked at the policies set up in other countries and tested several solutions before the complete withdrawal of all the padlocks (2014–2016). Indeed, the weight made several parts of the bridge collapse and endangered human lives in boats running underneath. Those parts of the bridge were replaced routinely, leading to heavy maintenance costs. A statistical review of the photos taken by informants and personal fieldnotes reveal details about consumers’ practice. In some cases (20%), we observed more than two names, suggesting the ritual extends to family or friends groups. From the quantity of foreign names (60%), we understand that the practice is accomplished mostly by tourists. A majority of the locks include drawings and various decorations (60%). If locks are dominant on the bridge, we have also noticed consumers holding ribbons and other artifacts (10%).

RESEARCH METHOD Our investigation began in February 2012 with observations in Paris on the primary location of the Pont des arts in Paris and with a netnography of the very active Internet community of participants and protestors. We spent six half-days of participant observation in situ throughout 2012–2017, during “regular” days. We did observe behaviors on Valentine’s Day when the practice culminated in 2013 and 2015. During the observations, we took photographs that were completed

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Love and Locks: Consumers Making Pilgrimages and Performing Love Rituals

with some others, made accessible by our informants. Before, during and after our immersion in observation, we kept detailed written field notes. Throughout the five years of the study, we collected data from Internet observations without participating in the online communities (Kozinets, 2015) in interest-based forums, support groups, social networks, and online exchanges in newspapers articles about love locks. We also investigated online groups of official opponents. In these various groups, consumers expressed the will to describe and share their practice or defend their opinions for or against in virulent conversation threads. In these online exchanges, we gathered 1,205 pages totaling roughly 15,000 posts. Data include text, images, and videos, as well as comments made by love locks participants or opponents who interact on these platforms. These observations, together with the relevant literature, informed our interpretations of our data. Data collected from interviews (Table 1) consist of 21 interviews with male and female informants (five informants were interviewed three or four times each) who ranged in age from 18 to 62. All the informants were interviewed in Paris, France. Ten informants were obtained from our interpersonal networks and 15 from fortuitous encounters during observations, or subsequent snowball sampling. All our informants participated in the ritual, with locks attached in various contexts: 14 to express romantic love, 7 as a rallying sign toward community or friends, and 4 as a family testimony. Seven of them came back several times. Half of our informants were French while the remaining were from other countries. These interviews were completed over the course of three years (2014–2017). The interviews lasted anywhere from 25 minutes to 120 minutes. The interviews were audio-taped and transcribed, resulting in approximately 700 single-spaced pages Table 1.  Face-to-Face Interviews. Name

Country

Age

Gender

Adelaide Alexis Anne Benjamin Bruno Carole Charles Dominic Helen Lilly Michel Nathalie Olivia Pénélope Phileas Pierre Pinar Sinem Violetta Vivian Ziyed

Israel France France Israel France France France UK US France France France France France France Canada Turkey Turkey France Canada Libanon

34 26 66 29 50 47 20 44 34 18 42 55 48 48 53 50 38 39 19 51 35

F M F M M F M M F F M F F F M M F F F F M

Duration Minutes 30 120 35 30 40 90 30 30 35 40 30 90 40 40 90 120 45 45 90 120 60

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of transcripts, which, together with the original videos, photographs, and field notes, formed our empirical data. We employed the constant comparative method of analysis, engaging in open-ended and axial coding (Spiggle, 1994) of interview transcripts and field notes. Our videotapes, fieldnotes, Internet downloads, and transcribed interviews were coded and analyzed using constant comparative analytic techniques (e.g., Glaser & Strauss, 1967). Table 1 lists the informants. Following an iterative process between field and theoretical concepts (Thompson, 1997), we aimed at developing understanding of the key emic insights expressed in our observation and interview data, to challenge and adapt our theoretical framework for the next iterative turn.

FINDINGS First, we found that consumers perform individual rituals that are embedded in previous cultural and mythological representations. Magical rituals performed in places of pilgrimage demonstrate the power of magical thinking that transfers subject-agency to things. What is displayed here as a sequential process to simplify our demonstration is dynamic and requires further clarifications. The dynamic between consumers’ performances and mythological representations is ever-changing, as is the practice. Similarly, mediation by market players constantly engages on individual behavior, by offering new products or services that redirect consumers’ understandings and performances, and may raise contests or extensions of the practice. In this section, we describe the love lock ritual step by step and show how it is embedded in complex mythological meanings where actors, place, time, and materiality matter. We chose not to focus on the macro level of institutionalization of the practice, how it spreads, is fought against or defended by the various stakeholders. We aim at investigating the micro level of individual practices, motivations, and the symbolic-cultural background on which they are grounded. We first focus on historical contextualization and a short description of the actors. Next, we describe the three sequences of the script underlying the ritual. Third, we demonstrate that rituals occur on the bridges that are most similar to places of pilgrimage. Additionally, the success of the practice may come from its power to adapt to various consumers’ needs. It displays some instability in the performances and ambiguity in the symbolic meanings that are associated with the practice. Finally, we present the active function of symbolic and mythological features in the ritual and how consumers transform them. A Singularized Object that Becomes Decommoditized and Unalienable through the Ritual Process By passing over the Pont des Arts bridge (Paris, France) on Valentine’s Day in Spring 2014, the thought emerged immediately to the authors that something important was happening. Dozens of couples were strolling, looking at thousands of padlocks until they finally stopped in front of a place they chose

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carefully, and attached a padlock. The whole process was emotionally intense and meaningful for the visitors. An amazing element was the regularity and the precision with which individuals were all accomplishing what appeared to be a ritual, a “ceremony containing unwritten rules” (Carambar, France, 2016). Most of the individuals follow the ritual precisely and its specific rules while few dare changes or variations. The ritual lasts between 15 minutes and 40 minutes total. Like the rites of passage (Turner, 1969; Gennep, 1909) extensively described in the literature, we noticed several successive sequences in which order is always strictly observed. In a first preliminal sequence, consumers wandered, looking at other locks and searching for a place to attach the lock. If they planned to attach a lock, they did bring one with markers (or they purchased a specific lock online with a personalized shape or/and engraving). If it is unplanned, discovering the practice, they purchase a lock from a street (illegal) vendor who will loan them the pens to write on the lock. During the liminal ritual sequence (from decorating the lock up to throwing the key), they are close together and do not seek out interactions with others; they appear to be serious and concentrated, wishing to remain undisturbed. During this sequence, they sit down on a bench or more likely on the bridge floor in front of the location they chose to hold the lock. One after the other, they write a specific message on the lock or add their initials. Then, they carefully choose the perfect place to hold it, pronounce (shouting) some magical words while they throw the key in the river together, backward and over their shoulder. They usually watch the key vanishing into the muddy water together, then smile at each other and kiss (notes of observations). Georgina provides a summary of the ritual: Would absolutely recommend any lovers putting a lock on the bridge. It is so romantic. We took pictures of the location to ensure we would find it again in years to come and then threw the keys to the lock into the Seine. We bought our lock on-line before we went and had it engraved so the inscription would last. So many people buy the lock from a person selling them near the bridge and write their names on it with a marker, but that is only going to last one winter before it wears off. (Georgina, USA)

After throwing the key, some couples take some notes and draw a little map of the bridge with the exact location of their lock while others get the GPS location indicated in the numerical information of the pictures. They then spend some time sharing pictures on social media, namely Instagram, Twitter, Facebook, using the appropriate hashtags. They then tend to spend some time looking at locks, photographing them, and interacting with other participants, consistent with this postliminal step that is the re-incorporation of individuals in society with their new social identity. Consumers then usually accumulate evidence (photos of all the steps of the ritual, or other material pieces like wearing a ring, or spotting the location on a map) of this new status. Some aspects of the practice are social and collective (looking at others, smiling, and speaking to them) and others are very individual and involve only the couples. During the ritual itself, the couples seem wrapped up in themselves, closed off to others. If the general atmosphere is one of playful entertainment, most of the couples look very serious while they are “acting” together in what is described as one of their key moments

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in Paris. While the ritual always follows certain core-rules (finding a place, attaching a padlock, writing on it, and throwing the key in the river), there are several variations we observed between participants, namely choice of a place, object, and performance. For instance, Wilky provides the shortest version of the ritual: “write your names on a lock attach it and throw the key in the seine and your life will last forever” but other consumers are much more inventive. We summarize the three sequences in Table 2 by displaying what is mandatory as well as the variations we observed. The “Love Bridge” Is a Place of Pilgrimage Where Rituals Occur The concept of pilgrimage allows us to combine the various dimensions we observed. In this sense, the pilgrimage is a specific blend of location, individuals, artifacts, rituals, discourses, and myths. The ritual takes place in a specific location, the sacred locus. We found that we cannot simply look at the lock ritual without considering its spatiality, what the river means, and how the architectural and cultural environments are important backgrounds of the practice. Previous studies on pilgrimages in consumer research focused on the experiential matter of individuals performing in a dedicated place (Arnould & Price, 1993; O’Guinn & Belk, 1989). This research, however, often neglects the material dimension during these experiences. Nevertheless, consumers interact with specific artifacts during such pilgrimages, whether they bring back souvenirs of their sacred journey, or oppositely if they leave material that will be added to the place, namely “ex-voto.” Table 2.  The Three Sequences of the Love Lock Ritual.

Pre-liminal

Action Choice of a place

Minimum/Mandatory Core-Rule Magic bridge

Post-liminal

Liminal

Lock personalization: Bringing a common lock writing Writing Initials and date Lock personalization: Not mandatory as the lock per se art contributes to a collective artwork in progress Holding to the bridge Find any place available Throwing the key

Kissing the key, throwing it together “You absolutely have to throw the key in the Seine river otherwise it won’t work and everything else will be useless! (Lilly, Fr)”

Sharing with others Prolonging the experience

Not mandatory

Extended Ritual, Inventions The middle part of the most famous magic bridge

Ordering online, engraved lock, ‘extraordinary locks’ Adding narratives, messages Drawings, painting, dots, abstracts Be the first in the very middle of the bridge Getting a tattoo of the key Pronouncing magic words while throwing the key

Photos, selfies, sharing on social networks Lunch, picnic or champagne (Valentine’s Day)

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The study aims to understand how ritual (behavioral) practices are embedded, without neglecting neither the spatial, neither the material aspects. The following extract from the author’s field notes describes the materiality that surrounds the practice and how it relates to the organization of space. The padlocks are distributed throughout the bridge, from the center toward its periphery and parallel accesses. Still, the very center of the bridge gathers the vast majority of padlocks. Early photos of the Pont-des-Arts bridge and actual “colonization” of other bridges show the “hottest” place is always the middle of the bridge. The two sides of the bridge (east and west, as the Seine river flows broadly speaking from east to west) don’t display the same distribution: on the Pont-des-Arts bridge, the west side facing the Louvre museum, the Eiffel tower and other major monuments is more popular than the side facing the Ile-de-la-Cité. Similarly, the west side of the Pont de l’Archevéché is facing the cathedral Notre Dame de Paris and concentrate first the padlocks. (author field notes)

There are many places where padlocks may be attached but all places are not equal, and individuals prefer some “love bridges” more than others. The Pont des Arts is seen as the original, “ground zero” of all the love bridges. The Pont des Arts is “conveniently located” (Marco Palmero) between the Louvre museum on the right bank and the Saint-Germain-des-Prés area on the left bank. The view from the bridge extends 360° on the whole horizon ° and is the true mid-point between key Parisian landmarks such as the Eiffel Tower, the Grand Palais, the Louvre Museum, the Ile de la Cité, the cathedral Notre Dame de Paris, and the French Academy. The Pont de l’Archevéché is less popular but attracts many practitioners because of its position in the Parisian architectural landscape, in front of the Notre Dame Cathedral, and leading to the Ile-Saint-Louis. We observed a hierarchy of interest between love bridges. The Pont des Arts was the first and most researched place for romantic lovers for several reasons: it is pedestrianonly, it benefits from a favored position in the very heart of Paris among the most famous Parisian landmarks. The bridge summarizes the spirit of Paris. When the padlocks were removed in September 2016, the bridge lost a part of its romantic aura and general interest. For most of the informants, finding the best place in order to perform the ritual conveniently is an important matter. Consumers show they have two criteria for that choice: the spatiality of the bridge and their assessment of the social environment constituted by the other locks. First, the bridge is a physical structure including several separate components that are the railings, the entrances, and the middle section. Typically, the first locks are attached in the very middle of a bridge. Informants provide explanations for this as “the bridge is the sign of love” (Arslan, India), “(it) symbolizes the link between the lovers, so the perfect relationship is the one where the symmetry is perfect” (Yuriko, 38, Japan). While this symbol of the connection between individuals seems obvious, the middle of the bridge can be also understood as an axis mundi (Eliade, 1959), where the height of the river is expected to be most profound, and where the city on the two banks is as far away, with the whole sky surrounding them. This establishes a deep connection with natural elements with symbolic importance (Bachelard, 1983, 1994). There are few places in a big city where people can experience such a sense of nature and space. Consumers prefer the middle of the bridge but adapt their

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practice according to the places left, and after 2014 the lack of space made visitors attached to all parts of the bridge, including the entrance railings, streetlights, and even trashcans. Finally, the enormous quantity of locks led to the new locks being attached to the previous “strata” of locks, so locks on locks, producing “bunches” of padlocks. Additionally, consumers look at the other locks and care for the appearance of the locks, their shape and the owners they imagine (often by reading only initials). They like to hold their lock close to these “extraordinary locks” because of their special shape (castle clock) or the status of their owner (famous people, singers, or movie stars). As Geary (1986) stated with Christian medieval worship of saints’ relics, pilgrims want to touch the relics’ coffin and establish body contact. They sometimes hold ex voto as a vow as close as possible to the relic they want to establish a contact with. This is consistent with the “contagion magic” principle and creates strong indexical cues and magical transfer of power. Instability and Ambiguity of Symbolic Meanings We observed many informants that come and practice the ritual for various reasons. We discuss below that one of the explanations about the success of the ritual may come from the ambiguity of the messages and meanings that makes it possible for each individual to find what they are looking for. As such, it works like a “mind trap” that enables speculation and individual constructions of various identity projects. Representations of social bonds. More than a symbol of only romantic love, the lock appears to be a metaphor for any social bonds, including family love, as explained by Ronald: I was in Paris this mid-July. As with so many of the cafes and open-air markets that dot the city, I happen upon these locks as I walked along the Seine. Thinking it was tradition in the French style, I of course bought a lock and threw the keys on the river. However, I am single, and I made the lock on behalf of my parents who were thousands of miles away. Naturally, I took a picture and posted it on Facebook for them to see. (Ronald, US, NYT blog) – poirier 2012

During observations, we also met groups of young peoples, friends traveling who wanted to express how tied they feel together. We see the informants don’t agree on a single definition of “love” or modus of relationships for our time. The most common sense of the ritual is how it is relative to romantic love and a way to foster a growing relationship (engagement) or celebrate and rejuvenate an ancient passion. Here the informants take two different positions. Alternatively, they promote romanticism, defend and follow the “tradition” of the love locks, or they criticize it by showing the practice does not represent their conception of love and commitment to someone else. The opponents of the practice mostly mention the artificial side of the practice and challenge the representations of love that come with it. The practice is seen as typically accomplished by tourists who have their representations of love, different from that of Parisians: In any case, you should disabuse yourself of the idea that people are flocking to Paris because they care about the French practice of love or how French philosophers conduct themselves. They don’t. They go there because of the perception, reinforced by the French, (“especially Paris”), that Paris is romantic and a city for love. The tourists bring with them their own

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personal and cultural notions of what love should be, which are as important and valid to them as yours are to you. In reality, the idea of possessive love is more “romantic” than the practical approach of the French and after all, people are going to Paris for romance. (Sue, US, NYT blog) – poirier 2012. As an American who loves a French woman, I can say with authority (if authority has anything to do with love) that Ms. Poirier’s depiction of love à la française is essentially accurate. In America, unfortunately, women are trained to believe that freedom and love are an oxymoron. Not so in France. Vive la Français! (Michael, US, NYT blog) – poirier 2012

They insist on the paradox that Paris is seen as the city of love, but what is celebrated is a representation of love that can’t be “in the French style,” because at the heart of love à la française lies the idea of freedom that is denied by the lock, presented as a prison. They insist on the origin of love in the French style, since the Amour Courtois and the emergence of the libertines, the absolute freedom displayed by famous couples like Jean-Paul Sartre and Simone de Beauvoir. In a recent book, the French philosopher Alain Badiou and Peter Bush (2012) state how love implies constant risk and insecurity. Authenticity, need for imitation. Consumers express a need for authenticity and they want to connect to authentic places, shared even with French consumers such as Christopher: “I feel this is the ‘real’ Paris, because of the view from the bridge, it’s like in postcard with the Ile de la Cité in the background” (Christopher, Tripadvisor). Of course, authentic Paris is a cultural, historical, and mythological construction that is currently promoted by various players. It is also manipulated by those who denounce how “fake” the tradition is and explain it does not belong to the history of Paris. Then they explain the success of the ritual based on consumers psychology: I get pretty pissed off with the ridiculous and thoughtless things kids do to get the approval of their peers. This is just another pea-brained example of following the herd despite the f. imbecilic nature of the activity. (Leonidas)

For Leonidas, the ritual is only motivated by the will for social approval. Scholars have also shown how imitation is a powerful driver in social relationships and allows dissemination of innovation or practices among people (De Tarde, 1903; Houlbrook, 2015). This is an important point as a large part of the consumers who performed the ritual spontaneously motivate their action with a need for participation to the collective project “because other people have done it” and are “infected with the emotional contagion” of the social environment (Hatfield, Cacioppo, & Rapson, 1993). Liberty and control. Even if they do not share the same conception of love, Parisians and visitors share an appreciation for the freedom that is involved, the liberty of individuals who create their own practice independently: I can see that these locks are damaging, and I understand the concerns, but the idea is romantic and part of me loves that the French permitted such liberty to begin with. I live in Australia and we are so regimented. There’s a law governing everything, helmets to ride bikes, no drinking alcohol at a picnic in a public park, no smoking within ‘coo-ee’ of anyone or anything, no dogs at open air cafes etc etc and the list goes on. (Sabine, BlogNoLoveLocks 2015)

Sabine puts forward the idea of a free space that is detached from any legal rules as she expresses a need for a space that would escape from the political stage

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or the market. With the Burning Man event, Kozinets (2002) showed that such a need in consumer societies is always compromised by the will of stakeholders to join or control the “free practice.” The notion of liberty raises political issues about what is authorized or not on the public stage of the city. At this point, opinions about love, authenticity, architecture, and liberty segment people into diverse groups that are cross-ideological and cross-political. For Phil, internet blogs protesting the practice “stink of elitism and really isn’t helping to sway those who find the practice acceptable” (Phil BlogNoLoveLocks, 2014). Some consumers then defend a popular-free-practice against the elite-institutional conception of heritage and conventional beauty. Of course, in this view, the decisions that were taken by City Hall to secure the falling railings of the bridge were considered as political decisions for or against Love. The Active Function of Symbolic and Mythological Features Mythological river. By throwing a key in the Seine river, consumers establish particular links with a mythological component. The magic of the water that occurs in this ritual is entirely different from ancient pagan rituals with fountains, lakes, or rivers (Bachelard, 1983). There is no magic by contact here, no wet clothes passed over the face or body. The only contact is remote when the key sinks into the water. The gesture also reminds us of the symbolic rebirth and sealing of the baptismal ritual where the body is dipped into water in ancient Christian pilgrimages (Hahn, 1990). None of our informants mention the role of the river, for them a passive actor. Nevertheless, we attribute a central role to the river in understanding the performance as a whole. This custom appears to be the conflation between several pre-existing customs, as throwing a key in a well to seal a secret (Gaillard, 2010) or throwing a coin in a fountain to make a wish (by turning the back). The lock custom, however, is different as the symbolic meanings are not the same. The symbolism of water in previous customs is different with stationary and black water in the well (death), singing and transparent water in the fountain (renewal). In mythology (Bachelard, 1983), the symbolism of the river is tied to the passage of time, oblivion and concealment (Lethe) or death (Styx). Initial symbolic meanings associate the river with everlasting social bonds and the goal of keeping a secret. This makes it possible to understand the explanations of consumers for whom water plays an active role in the locks by “reloading” their magic aura that tends to weaken with time. Interestingly, this demonstrates that the symbolic cultural representations of nature are entirely detached from any consideration for nature per se, as illustrated by lack of interest in pollution – millions of keys are rusting in the water. This interpretation is confirmed by informants describing a love bridge in Japan, built over railway tracks. In that case, consumers similarly argue that the energy of the trains can reload the magic powers of the locks. This shows how the river plays an unmentioned but crucial symbolic role for accomplishing the ritual. We argue that the river has two main symbolic meanings: the metaphor of time and the keeping of permanent social bonds, and the metaphor of natural power that is exerted on the locks and perpetually magically reactivates their aura.

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The lock and its symbolism. The padlock is a blend of material features that may be separated, the lock itself and the key. Of course, all the padlocks come in different shapes, colors, sizes and they hold very different written messages. As the custom requires a key, combination locks are seldom seen. Padlocks may be purchased from local vendors, brought from home or even ordered a long time before coming to the place, as Georgina stated above. The ritual is performed with other tools including pens to write on the lock. From an Emic viewpoint, obvious symbolism of the lock is that it locks the ties between individuals. Throwing the key makes this tie irrevocable. From an Etic viewpoint, the symbolism of the padlock and key relates to the general symbolism of locking or unlocking, and its initial and literal function causes the pragmatic of such a ritual object. The symbolic efficiency of an object comes from the ambivalence between its symbolic and utilitarian function. In the context of the lock ritual, the padlock acquires additional semantics according to material characteristics that are performed during this ritual, pertaining to actions and choices on its material, form, colors, placement, design, and its relationship to specific persons. Psychoanalysis, as well as popular and traditional culture also show the obvious erotic symbolism of the gendered part of the key (male) and the keyhole (female). However, there is no genderization of roles in the performances we observed.

DISCUSSION By investigating a new consumer love ritual, we demonstrated how a much-­ criticized “simple-minded” ritual might reveal a complex blend of heterogeneous features, grounded in a specific historical and cultural context. If ritual theory often focuses on the performance itself and the performers’ characteristics (Segalen, 2013; Wulf & Gabriel, 2005), we also highlighted the importance of space and materiality during ritual performances. Our research has revealed how the place where the ritual occurs is a fundamental feature. We illustrated how such places might be similar to places of pilgrimage. In this view, the ritual is close to those displaying ex voto (Wilson, 2003) and propitiatory wishes. Future research should further investigate the importance of public space and how it is challenged by performances that privatize it, triggering actions of opposition groups that denounce such appropriation of space. We also underscored how the nature of objects changes during rituals, which appear to be performed only to make a standard industrialized object become singular, decommoditized and unalienable. By investing time, attention and feelings during ritual performances, consumers transform the very nature of the subject/object relationship. Magical thinking makes objects become extended parts of the self and subject-like agency is given to objects which appear to “live” independently. This research also contributes by demonstrating that rituals are not monolithic forms and unique scripts (Rook, 1985) that are always performed the same way and for unique reasons. Identity projects are all different and consumers follow their own way by constantly inventing variations on the common ritual script. By challenging the symbolic meanings of the ritual, we demonstrated that this

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romantic-love ritual actually reveals a widespread instability and ambiguity in the meanings attached to the idea of love. Following Drewal (1992), we show that rituals are dynamic and non-static forms as consumers do not all perform the exact script the same way, and they do not share the same values that are ideologically given to love (e.g., lock is a prison vs lock is protection). Considering the practice as a whole, consumers also express the need for performing an “authentic” ritual, while different groups denounce how the practice’s lack of authenticity. Authenticity drives consumers’ legitimacy to perform and triggers social imitation of previous performances. More importantly, this research contributes by demonstrating the need to enrich studies of consumer rituals with historical and cultural perspectives. While contextualization of consumer practices is now recognized as a preliminary step in consumer research (Askegaard & Linnet, 2011), we demonstrate the need for cross-disciplinary investigations of the phenomenon. History and philosophy show the roots of the practice and engage with mythology (Bachelard, 1983) while psychoanalysis connects with the unconscious needs of humans. It was significant to observe how consumers only specify symbolic features to express their feelings and how the lock emerged as the dominant form of expressing love relationships. We call for future research to examine what the systematic use of metaphors by consumers tells us about subject/object relationships and how metaphor theory enables such understanding in consumption contexts.

REFERENCES Arnould, E. J., & Price, L. L. (1993). River magic: Extraordinary experience and the extended service encounter. Journal of Consumer Research, 20(1), 24–45. Askegaard, S., & Linnet, J. T. (2011). Towards an epistemology of consumer culture theory: Phenomenology and the context of context. Marketing Theory, 11(4), 381–404. Bachelard, G. (1983). Water and dreams: An essay on the imagination of matter. Dallas, TX: Pegasus Foundation. Bachelard, G. (1994). The Poetics of Space. (M. Jolas, Trans.). Boston, MA: Beacon Press.. Badiou, A., & Bush, P. (2012). In praise of love. New York, NY: New Press. De Tarde, G. (1903). The laws of imitation. New York, NY: H. Holt. Drewal, M. T. (1992). Yoruba ritual: Performers, play, agency (1st ed.). Bloomington, IN: Indiana University Press. Eade, J., & Sallnow, M. J. (2013). Contesting the sacred: The anthropology of Christian pilgrimage. Eugene, OR: Wipf & Stock Publishers. Eliade, M. (1959).The Sacred and The Profane. The Nature of Religion. (W. R. Trask, Trans.). New York, NY: Houghton Mifflin Harcourt. Gaillard, A. (2010). La clé et le puits: à propos du déchiffrement des contes et des fables. Féeries. Études sur le conte merveilleux, XVIIe-XIXe siècle, (7), 179–192. Geary, P. (1986). Sacred commodities: The circulation of medieval relics. In A. Appadurai (Ed.), The social life of things: Commodities in cultural perspective (pp. 169–191). Cambridge: Cambridge University Press. Gennep, A. V. (1909). The Rites of Passage. (M. B. Vizedom & G. L. Caffee, Trans.). Chicago, IL: University Of Chicago Press. Glaser, B. G., & Strauss, A. L. (1967). The discovery of grounded theory: strategies for qualitative research (4. paperback printing). NJ: Aldine. Goody, J. (1977). Against ‘ritual’: Loosely structured thoughts on a loosely defined topic. Secular Ritual, 25, 35.

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Hahn, C. (1990). Loca Sancta souvenirs: Sealing the pilgrim’s experience. In R. G. Ousterhout (Ed.), The blessings of pilgrimage (pp. 85–96). Urbana, IL: University of Illinois Press. Hatfield, E., Cacioppo, J. T., & Rapson, R. L. (1993). Emotional contagion. Cambridge: Cambridge University Press. Higgins, L., & Hamilton, K. (2016). Mini-miracles: Transformations of self from consumption of the Lourdes pilgrimage. Journal of Business Research, 69(1), 25–32. Houlbrook, C. (2015). ‘Because other people have done it’: Coin-trees and the aesthetics of imitation. Journal of Contemporary Archaeology, 2(2), 243–261. Kozinets, R. V. (2002). Can consumers escape the market? Emancipatory illuminations from burning man. Journal of Consumer Research, 29(1), 20–38. Kozinets, R. V. (2015). Netnography: Redefined. London: Sage. Moore, A. (1980). Walt Disney world: Bounded ritual space and the playful pilgrimage center. Anthropological Quarterly, 53(4), 207. O’Guinn, T. C., & Belk, R. W. (1989). Heaven on earth: Consumption at heritage village, USA. Journal of Consumer Research, 16(2), 227–238. Preziosi, D., & Farago, C. (2012). Art is not what you think it is (1st ed.). Malden, MA: Wiley-Blackwell. Rinallo, D., Scott, L., & Maclaran, P. (2013). Consumption and spirituality. New York, NY: Routledge. Rook, D. W. (1985). The ritual dimension of consumer behavior. Journal of Consumer Research, 12(3), 251–264. Segalen, M. (2013). Rites et Rituels Contemporains [Contemporary Rites and Rituals]. Paris, France: Armand Colin. Spiggle, S. (1994). Analysis and interpretation of qualitative data in consumer research. Journal of Consumer Research, 21(December), 491–504. Strathern, A. (Ed.). (2015). The Ashgate research companion to anthropology. Burlington: Ashgate Publishing. Thompson, C. J. (1997). Interpreting consumers: A hermeneutical framework for deriving marketing insights from the texts of consumers’ consumption stories. Journal of Marketing Research, 34(4), 438–455. Turner, V. (1969). The ritual process structure and antistructure. New York, NY: Aldine de Gruyter. Turner, V., & Turner E. (1978). Image and pilgrimage in Christian culture. New York, NY: Columbia University Press. Warburg, M. (2015). Secular rituals. In P. J. Stewart & A. Strathern (Eds.), The Ashgate research companion to anthropology (pp. 127–143). Burlington, VA: Ashgate Publishing. Wilson, S. (2003). The magical universe: Everyday ritual and magic in pre-modern Europe. New York, NY: Hambledon & London. Wulf, C., & Gabriel, N. (2005). Rituels. Performativité et dynamique des pratiques sociales. Hermès, 43, 9–20.

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CHAPTER 2 THE LIFE AND DEATH OF ANTHONY BARBIE: A CONSUMER CULTURE TALE OF LOVERS, BUTLERS, AND CRASHERS Luciana Walther

ABSTRACT Purpose: The present research draws from neomaterialist theories to investigate women’s erotic consumption in Brazil, analyzing several stages of the consumption cycle, from need detection to disposal. Methodology/Approach: Fieldwork followed the Itinerary Method, with 35 in-depth interviews and participant observation. Findings: In addition to providing thick description of two consumption cycle stages, the chapter analyzes assemblages of material objects and people that are part of erotic consumption. The dialectical process that transforms consumers through the agency of erotic products also transforms products through repurpose or personification – as lovers, butlers, or party crashers – which, in turn, highlights these objects’ agentic nature. Erotic products are understood as possessing social life and death. Practical Implications: This research uncovered a series of transformations performed by the object on the consumer (i.e., objectification of the consumer) and vice versa (i.e., personification of the object). These processes help understand tensions inherent to networks and assemblages formed during erotic

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consumption. They also suggest, along the consumption cycle, unmet consumer needs that may be tended to by industry, like disposal issues. Social Implications: This study broadly aims at helping women to more freely exercise their sexuality (with the mediation of erotic products if they so desire) in a Latin-American patriarchal society where double moral standards regarding men and women still prevail. Originality/Value of Chapter: This is one of the first studies conducted within consumer culture theory that focuses specifically on sexuality related consumption. Keywords: Gender; sexuality; material culture; consumer culture theory; assemblage; objectification

INTRODUCTION Erotic consumption is a research theme that has been ignored by marketing scholars for too long (Gould, 1991). Sexuality is undeniably one important source for contemporary identity building (Bozon, 2004), which influences and is influenced by consumption activities (Belk, 1988). According to the Brazilian Association of Erotic Companies (Associação Brasileira das Empresas do Mercado Erótico (ABEME), 2017), industry’s revenues topped one billion reais in 2010 (around 311 million US dollars), growing 17% in comparison to the previous year. Despite the country’s current economic crisis, it is still a blooming industry, having grown 8.5% in 2014, while many other sectors shrunk. In the United States, it is a 15-­billion-dollar industry (Isto é Dinheiro, 2016). ABEME (2017) claims that 70% of sex shops’ clientele in Brazil are women. For this reason, since the early 2000s, business entrepreneurs have opened up women-only erotic boutiques, in order to cater specifically to female consumers, who had shown embarrassment to shop in the presence of men. In these stores, materiality is usually designed to communicate a soft femininity, very different from traditional sex shops (Walther & Schouten, 2016). What used to be a masculine domain during the 1980s and 1990s, has become a safe haven for women, who are now part of a network that includes, inside the store, a specialized sales staff and a vast array of erotic products and material cues, and outside the store, their partners, family, and friends. The specific research objectives guiding the discussion that unfolds in the present chapter are: (1) to understand the agentic nature and the social life (Appadurai, 2010) of erotic products along their consumption cycle (Arnould & Thompson, 2005) and (2) to understand how erotic products’ agency allows them to become mediators of the interaction between interviewed consumers and other actors in the consumption cycle.

MATERIAL CULTURE AND THE SOCIAL LIFE OF THINGS ALONG THE CONSUMPTION CYCLE The consumption cycle can be defined as a sequence of stages in the consumer’s relationship with a product or service. For Arnould and Thompson (2005), the

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consumption cycle comprises three steps: the first one would correspond to the moment of purchase, the second to the period in which the product belongs to the consumer and the moments during which it is in use, and the last step to the process of discarding the product by the consumer. Thirty years ago, early cultural studies of consumption, which would later be circumscribed to the consumer culture theory (CCT) school of thought (Arnould & Thompson, 2005), tracked the cycle’s stages in search for contextual, symbolic, and experiential aspects of consumption, analyzing these phenomena with macro-, meso-, and micro-theoretical perspectives. The sequence of consumption activities that Arnould and Thompson (2005) call consumption cycle is equivalent to what Desjeux (2000) calls consumption itinerary. For the author of the Itinerary Method, the consumption cycle can be subdivided into more steps and is usually analyzed under the micro-social scale of observation (Alami, Desjeux, & Garabuau-Moussaoui, 2010). The itinerary begins when the consumer reflects on the need or desire for the product and decides to initiate a movement toward its acquisition. The second stage comprises the displacement toward a (physical or virtual) sales channel and the shopping experience. The third step refers to product storage in the consumer’s home, which may happen before or after usage. The fourth step is product usage itself, including preparation, if necessary. The last step refers to product disposal (Alami et al., 2010). According to Miller (2010), consumption studies focusing on material culture should examine the consequences that products have for people, moving away from an overemphasis on meanings. To substantiate these studies, this neomaterialist scholar offers a Dialectical Theory of Material Culture (Miller, 2010) in which products are more than mere representations of consumers; objects create subjects and vice versa. More importantly, the theory’s main focus lies on the process by which this mutual creation occurs. The creation of things by people and the creation of people by things are two sides of a bidirectional relationship, which is seen as dialectical, that is, mutually constitutive. This very process is what Miller (2010) calls objectification – not to be confused with objectivation (Bozon, 2004), the sexist treatment of women as if they were objects, which appeared during fieldwork as well but is subject to another discussion. Objectification is, therefore, the dynamic process that simultaneously produces subjects and objects through self-alienation. By self-alienation, Miller (2010) means the moment in which subject sees herself in the objects that she created, gaining a better understanding of who she is, which, invariably, results in transformation. Thus, subject is transformed because of her relationship with the objects she has created or interacted with. “The humanity that existed before roads and traffic jams is not the same as that which exists afterwards,” Miller exemplifies (2010, p. 59). Currently, many CCT studies adopt neomaterialist theories (for just a few examples, see Bettany, Kerrane, & Hogg, 2014; Canniford & Shankar, 2013; Walther & Schouten, 2016), highlighting objects’ agency over subjects, and the networks and assemblages formed by material and immaterial actors (Latour, 2005, Parmentier & Fischer, 2015) that participate of consumption activities. Epp and Price (2010) studied the role of material culture in families, extending

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Kopytoff ’s (2010) theory of singularization by explaining what occurs between the singularization of a focal object and its recommodification. In order to do that, they tracked a family’s possession – a dinner table – through different stages of its cultural biography, focusing on its transformations, in and out of networks. Here, employing a less individual and more micro perspective, I follow erotic products through their consumption cycle. Tracking the consumption cycle is not a step back into CCT’s early priorities, because this time, instead of looking for meanings, I seek material culture’s agency and subjects’ transformations.

METHODOLOGY Fieldwork took place in three Brazilian states: Rio de Janeiro, São Paulo, and Minas Gerais. Research design adopts the interpretive paradigm (Geertz, 1973) and follows the ethnographic method (Denzin & Lincoln, 2017), comprising 35 in-depth interviews, 25 of which with female consumers and 10 with professionals working in the erotic industry, mainly saleswomen and store owners. For ten months spread over four years, I engaged in participant and nonparticipant observation in sex shops, erotic boutiques, and trade conventions, chosen as loci of purchase, in an attempt to avoid interpretation solely based on verbal representations offered by informants. Informant recruitment method was referral sampling (Biernacki & Waldorf, 1981). The only requirements for participation were that informants should be women and should have at least once used a product or object they considered erotic or at some point visited a sex shop. By requiring that informants had used an “object they considered erotic,” and not specifically an “erotic product,” the intention was to explore “productive aspects of consumption” (Arnould & Thompson, 2005, p. 871), also known as prosumption (Tofler, 1980), revealing possible value co-creation through the adaptation (Mariampolski, 2006) to erotic use of objects not originally created by the erotic industry. There were no age, income, or sexual orientation restrictions, which further enriched the exploratory nature of this study, providing a wide panorama of an underexplored research theme and an array of possibilities for future studies, that may focus on narrower strata. In-depth interviews lasted 90 minutes on average, following a semi-structured script consisting of open-ended questions, which was based on preliminary research and literature review. I wrote two different scripts: one for industry professionals, the other for consumers. The consumer script included two projective (Rook, 2006) video-elicitation (Sayre, 2006) exercises with the objective of facilitating discussion of topics that might be considered sensitive (Ger & Sandikci, 2006) by informants: sexuality and eroticism (for further detail on those exercises, see Walther & Schouten, 2016). The adoption of both observation and projective techniques intended to tap into practice, which is fundamental to materialist approaches to consumption, making up for possible distortions in consumer verbal representations and generating cultural talk (Moisander, Valtonen, & Hirsto, 2009). My interaction with interviewed consumers followed the Itinerary Method (Desjeux, 2000), in an effort to understand networks of material actors (Latour,

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2005; Parmentier & Fischer, 2015) and the assemblages they created and transformed (Delanda, 2006). Interview script contained questions about every stage of the erotic products consumption itinerary (Desjeux, 2000). At each stage, practices are apprehended by an effort to describe their diversity, objects in use, places, times, and occasions in which they occur, uncertainties and impositions that shape them, actors involved, and adjustments made by the latter (Alami et al., 2010). Although it was not possible to follow the consumer during all steps of the itinerary, since some of them, like usage, constitute extremely intimate moments, informants were asked about their complete cycle of erotic consumption and were requested, whenever possible, to show or photograph their erotic products and storage locations. The consumption cycle stages adopted for data collection and interpretation are: (1) need detection and conditions that bring about a movement toward a sex shop, (2) in-store experience, whether physical or virtual, (3) product usage, including its results, (4) storage and cleaning, and, finally, (5) disposal. Each of these stages was informative about the nuances of consumers’ relationship with their erotic products and with other actors participating in the consumption cycle, namely: their husbands or partners, their children, their mothers, their friends, sex shop staff, and direct sales consultants. This type of inference is possible because, on the micro-social scale (Desjeux, 1996) adopted for this research, “the perspective on phenomena allows us to perceive the interaction of individuals in their specific groups, their negotiations, conflicts and social relations” (Casotti, Suarez, & Campos, 2008, p. 112). Due to space constraints and for the sake of a focused discussion, this chapter includes only the usage and the disposal steps, which were rich with emic information in line with the specific research objectives herein reported. Data interpretation occurred in four stages, during which I engaged in continuous iteration between data and theoretical concepts (Arsel, 2017): interview transcription, cross-sectional thematic analysis, descriptive analysis, and interpretive analysis (Alami et al., 2010).

FINDINGS In addition to providing thick descriptions (Geertz, 1973; Mariampolski, 2006) of the different stages that frame relationships between consumers and erotic products, this section aims to reveal underlying social structures and cultural principles at work. I apologize for the strong language contained henceforth. Following Elliot and Davies’ (2006) instruction, emic discourse is reproduced as enunciated, with the best possible translation from Portuguese into English, having undergone no censorship whatsoever, which could wrongly represent my research subjects and deliver untrue reports (Corden & Sainsbury, 2007). I use pseudonyms to protect informants’ identities. Product Usage All consumption cycle stages play a relevant role in the mutually constitutive relationship between consumer and erotic object. However, in the dialectical process (Miller, 2010) of interaction between subject and object, usage is one of the most

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important stages, with truly transformative properties for both parties. Consumer transforms product by manipulating it, repurposing it, fractioning it, repackaging it, combining it with others, cleaning it, and discarding it. Product transforms consumer by making her a new woman, indelibly marked by erotic consumption. When used conjugally, similar effect can occur on the relationship or on the partner. Next, I analyze shared use of erotic products by the couple and then individual use by the woman alone. Conjugal use. Configurations of conjugal use of erotic products reported by interviewed consumers were varied. Some women use them in some relationships, but not in others. Some couples use only what the industry has been calling “light products” (i.e., erotic cosmetics, costumes, and lingerie); others also adopt vibrators. The inclusion of erotic products in a couple’s sensual practices was initiated both by the woman and by the man. When the initiative came from the informant, it caused either positive, neutral, or even negative reactions. Interviewed consumer Jane (42 years old [y.o.], marketing professional, divorced, and heterosexual) reflected on the “couple’s therapy” property of erotic products as facilitators of problem solving in the sexual arena without the need for explicit talk: “you can approach issues without having to talk about them.” Thus objects acquire a mediating role between man and woman. Such mediation can also be done not in the suppression of dialogue but in the inclusion of the verbal code referred to by Caroline (41 y.o., language teacher, married, heterosexual), for whom erotic products provide: a huge upgrade. (…) In complicity itself. You may even share a secret code. (…) We established the Anthony code: “Let’s ask Anthony to come with us [to a sex escapade at a motel].”

Caroline and her husband have a non-vibrating dildo they nicknamed Anthony, used during sexual intercourse for the purpose of double penetration. For this informant, therefore, the creation of a shared verbal code is linked to the adoption of a very intimate practice intermediated by the erotic product, which increases couple’s complicity. Intimacy grows not only by sharing a code, but also by creating common memories, in which a product such as the dildo acts as mediator, or even as a character, unveiling its agentic nature. For consumer Rita (49 y.o., psychoanalyst, married, homosexual), erotic products granted survival to a relationship that would have ended much earlier, were it not for conjugal erotic consumption: For seven years, I only had sex that included a vibrator. In a specific relationship. That was what sustained a great pleasure for a long time and prevented sexual attraction from dying. (…) Because there was a fantasy of which it [the vibrator] was part. I fantasized that a man was having sex with me, and the fantasy of this man had the presence of a cock. So, without the cock, it wouldn’t have lasted. (…) That person had a very strong masculine magnetism. (…) She wore the costume very well.

In this case, the product’s materiality transforms Rita’s female partner, who already naturally possessed “a very strong masculine magnetism,” in a male figure. The network of this sexual relationship included, besides two women, the vibrator. Consumers and product became integral parts of a techno-social cyborgean assemblage (Walther & Schouten, 2016).

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Consumer Maria (59 y.o., interior designer, divorced, heterosexual) went through a compulsory identity reformulation when she faced divorce, after 32 years of being married to her first and only husband. Erotic products played an important part in this process. Besides changing marital status, Maria began and finished college in her 50s. After decades of being a housewife, she entered both the work realm and the dating world. At the time of the interview she was in a long-distance relationship with a man that, together with the erotic products they shared, helped shape her new identity as a sexually desirable woman. She explains how they exchange erotic gifts when they travel to meet each other and how they repurpose surrounding objects’ materiality to infuse it with eroticism: This [the erotic gift giving] has been happening continuously. He bought a vibrator. I took a penile ring. Well, he practices tantric sex, which is … You keep having intercourse and feeling it all for hours, which gives you huge pleasure. And that involves everything, it involves the ambience, you use aromatic candles, right? Soft sheets, cushions. (…) We always stay at a hotel. (…) I always take candles. When there aren’t any mood lights, we cover lamps with sheets, with a cloth. Anyway … Music … (…) Wine, you have to have wine, especially in Portugal. Wine is a must have.

However, not all interviewees reported positive experiences when attempting to introduce erotic consumption to their partners. The agency of a penis-shaped vibrator may be so strong that it can generate fear of substitution among heterosexual men, as reported by several informants, including Francine (35 y.o., economist, married, heterosexual), who expressed difficulty in including her vibrator of phallic format in sexual relations with former boyfriends and also with her current husband. She is not used to making conjugal use of her vibrator, but rather solitary use: “maybe because my partners were always very wary of it.” Her husband was not interested when, during a trivial chat, she suggested they “played games” with the erotic products she possessed. Erotic consumption is not a frequent conversation topic for this couple and the husband never even saw the informant’s vibrator. As reported by interviewed consumers, the adoption of vibrators by the couple can be problematic in a patriarchal society like Brazil, with a complex system of gender hierarchies (Parker, 1991). But informants who manage to include vibrators in their sexual relations believe in the restorative power of the couple-­vibrator assemblage, like Michelle (38 y.o. lawyer and stay-at-home mom, married, heterosexual), for whom “sex toy plus partner is the ideal combination.” Erotic cosmetics are less problematic and are often used by couples with the objective of restoring the quality of a relationship or introducing novelty in a couple’s sex life. “To spice up the relationship” seems like the prevailing metaphor for conjugal use of erotic cosmetics among my informants, as exemplified by this quote from consumer Melissa (30 y.o., business owner, single, heterosexual): “To spice up the relationship with erotic products, I think so, yes. (…) And it’s really something that provides … A little sugar and spice, a differential from your day-to-day routines, right?” The various testimonials that mentioned the possibility of improving relationships are evidence of a linking value (Cova & Cova, 2002) in erotic products, which are often appreciated for their capacity of strengthening relations between two people, therefore strengthening the assemblage that they form.

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Not all erotic products shared experiences are successful. The main case of frustration with erotic products was narrated by Frida (28 y.o., event planner, single, heterosexual). At Christmas, the informant gifted her boyfriend with a basket of erotic products, containing several items purchased at an expensive store in Ipanema, Rio de Janeiro, in what was her first and only trip to a sex shop. The experience proved to be frustrating in its entirety and, while reporting it, the informant showed contempt for all erotic products, both verbally and in body language: “it all went wrong and it became a joke.” These are the details that Frida provided: I arrived on the 25th, actually. I gave [the basket to him] in the room. (…) [We did not use the products] Right away, no, but soon after. It didn’t work. Because we used one gel, then the next. Oh, there were some balls. [Those that dissolve in the vagina?] Yeah, dude, that sucks. For one, they’re scented. (…) They left me with no lubrication. It was very strange, it didn’t work. Then he used another [gel] afterwards, then we used them all, then it didn’t work, and we never used it again.

One of the products was a pink silicone coated vibrating bullet, that ended up with a lesbian friend, who nicknamed it Barbie, in reference to Mattel’s famous doll and brand color. The gel-filled balls were given to her sister-in-law, who learned the details of the unsuccessful Christmas present, as well as her motherin-law, who also learned of the episode, shared as a joke. So the bullet … What happened? We [the couple] sorta joked around with it, right? Because it had a little engine, you turn it on, it increases the speed. [A few days later] came a friend who is a lesbian. She went crazy: “wow, how cool is this? It’s a Barbie.” Then she asked “buy one for me when you go to Rio,” I said “no, just take it.” (…) Then she went crazy, now she walks around with her Barbie, which is pink. And she was super happy. And I was even happier because, to me, it was a joke, I did not use that.

Erotic products’ agency can be transformative even when the experience is unsuccessful. Failure may be a token of these material objects’ obduracy (Miller, 2010), since they may act against their owners’ will. Reflecting about the network formed by couple and erotic object may transform subjects by generating self-knowledge. After the second video-elicitation projective exercise, in which the informant had to watch strangers talking about erotic consumption, Frida reflected: “I’m surprised that they all … (…) They all love it, right? Now I must review my opinion about it. Because, if everyone likes it, and I don’t … It didn’t work for me, you know? Perhaps I didn’t use it right?” Individual use. In interviews with consumers, there was also no unanimity regarding individual use of erotic products, especially the vibrator. Some informants do not masturbate, others possess a vibrator but masturbate without it, and others stated that they do use the product for masturbation, listing its benefits: to provide “immediate,” “guaranteed,” “quick” pleasure, without depending on a partner. Such benefits confer “self-knowledge,” a “sense of freedom,” “independence,” “stress relief,” and may even be viewed as “therapeutic.” By myself, I use it a lot, because, man, it’s very practical, you know? It’s guaranteed pleasure. It’s 100% guaranteed. (…) The vibrator for me is like: I get home, I take a shower, I do whatever, I have dinner, I go to bed, and “oh, I’m gonna get the vibrator.” (…) Very frequently. Way more than once a week. (Diana, 39 y.o., photographer, divorced, bisexual)

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Whenever you want to feel pleasure, you just feel it. It’s there. You don’t have to go out picking up people on the street. (Pamela, 51 y.o., manager, married, bisexual)

These and other quotes that describe vibrators’ infallibility to provide female orgasms show the agentic character of erotic products over women’s sexuality. In the past, the emergence of contraceptive methods controlled by women, such as the pill, offered them “a sense of trust and control they had never experienced” (Bozon, 2004, p. 44). Currently, erotic consumption may trigger a new takeover by women in the field of sexuality. A material object like the vibrator can empower women, transforming them into authors and protagonists of their own orgasms. Self-discovery plays a key role in transferring the authorship of female orgasms from male to female hands. Female sexual climax is thus attained as a result of what she herself does, and no longer of what her partner does. In the emic perspective, self-discovery is transformative and is not associated solely with gaining knowledge about one’s own sexuality. In addition, self-­ discovery was also associated with “self-esteem,” with learning about the body, with the “transformation into a new woman,” with the retrieval of an original woman that “routine might have erased,” with the acquisition or accentuation of qualities such as sensuality and seduction, with learning about one’s own preferences and about partner’s preferences, with the reformulation of one’s identity “as a person” and as a divorced woman, and with the awakening from a previous state of sensual “numbness.” For several informants, individual use of erotic products does not necessarily exclude conjugal use. The discoveries made when the woman is alone can be communicated to her partner in order to increase pleasure during intercourse. One of the most significant cases of self-discovery was reported by Bianca (36 y.o., economist, single, heterosexual), who had her first orgasm at age 29 with the use of a Panasonic back massager, repurposed for clitoral masturbation. Bianca was newly separated from a marriage that had lasted five years. Her previous relationship had lasted seven years. Her girlfriends advised her to try and masturbate with an electric massager, when she confided to them that she was not sure if she used to climax during intercourse with her former partners. Coincidentally, the informant possessed a back massager that had been given to her by her mother several years before. When she received the gift, she did not imagine it could have erotic properties, which were also not mentioned by the mother. Bianca describes who she used to be before the transformation enacted by erotic products’ agency: Sex was just penetration, after penetration, after penetration, and it went nowhere. (…) I had some idea that it couldn’t be just that. But since I didn’t know where to look, then I kept stalling. And those were long relationships, with people who completed me in other ways, so I didn’t worry about that part, which I considered to be small because I didn’t know any better. That which you don’t know you simply overlook.

This is a good illustration of the mutually constitutive aspect of the object– consumer relationship. The back massager transforms the consumer by providing her with an experience seen as indispensable in the contemporary world – an orgasm, and the consumer transforms the back massager, giving it a purpose not planned by the industry.

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Bianca was so delighted with the discovery mediated by the Panasonic massager, that she could not help but share the information with friends. The massager was nicknamed James because, in Brazilian popular culture, this name was associated with butlers, showing that Bianca understood the object as endowed with agency, able to provide a service: “he does everything for me.” Her enchantment is thus described: “Wow, I think that if Facebook existed at the time I would have posted about it. It was an eureka moment. (…) So I told everyone!” One of the girlfriends introduced to vibrator consumption by Bianca was Ruth (56 y.o., retired manager, divorced, heterosexual), also interviewed for the present research. By Bianca’s influence, Ruth’s vibrator was also nicknamed James, because of its ability to serve her at any time. Francine too told her girlfriends about the discoveries made when she took Kegels classes, during which she acquired a vibrator. Her friends then asked her to gift them with vibrators, since they were “ashamed to buy one themselves.” So she took two girlfriends to a sex shop and bought them vibrators that were similar to hers. One of the friends nicknamed her new possession Paulinho (“little Paul,” in English) and referred to it as a boyfriend, with whom she sometimes liked to stay at home instead of going out with her pals. “Tonight I’ll stay in with Paulinho, open a bottle of wine” is how Francine reproduces her friend’s discourse. It is not just single or divorced women who value masturbation. Caroline, who, together with her husband, uses a dildo nicknamed Anthony, said she has also used it alone, attaining “a sense of freedom and independence.” In addition to expressing her own opinion about individual use of erotic products, Caroline described an unmarried girlfriend that possesses a vibrator dubbed Johnnie. “Johnnie is Anthony’s rich friend” – she explains – because the latter does not vibrate and is not half as modern and sophisticated as the former. Her friend used to publicly recommend vibrators to people, as Caroline recalls: She talked about it a lot. A single woman … She doesn’t have to go out with someone because of sexual need. It substitutes well. She advocated for it a lot: “It doesn’t piss me off, we don’t have DTRs.”

Not all informants admitted individual use of vibrators. Some blamed this on prejudice against female masturbation, like Beth (59 y.o., civil servant, widow, heterosexual): “I think the vast majority of women masturbate, but nobody tells. Nobody talks about it. Because the world is sexist.” Others claimed not to adhere to the practice, referring to it as a “necessity” of lonely women, like Vivian (56 y.o., business graduate and stay-at-home mom, married, heterosexual): “I don’t have the need to do it by myself. I feel that everything is very well married. Sharing very often. So the individual quest is not my necessity. Not the choice I make,” which shows that prejudice may lie in women themselves as well. So despite the increasing social acceptance of female sexuality manifestations, old value systems still stand, coexisting with new ones. Laqueur (1992) comments on how masturbation was seen, from the eighteenth century, as a threat to human community, putting sociability at stake. Therefore, traces of an ancient and persistent condemnation seem to coexist with a more recent realization that masturbation may be harmless or beneficial. This contrast may explain the resistance

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expressed by some interviewed consumers to masturbation and to individual use of vibrators. Product Disposal For emotional and practical reasons, the social life of a product like the vibrator ends in a problematic death. According to Arnould and Thompson (2005), the stage of product disposal within the consumption cycle may reveal social role negotiations and identity transitions. One of the consumption rituals studied by McCracken (1988) was precisely that of disposal, as a practice that depletes meanings contained in a good. For Miller (2010), discarding certain objects implies the concomitant disposal of personal relationships. As discussed earlier, erotic products are commonly used by the couple, sometimes being part of all their sexual activity. Thus, such objects adhere to that particular relationship to the point of, if used with a third person, placing even greater seriousness on the betrayal, as reported by Rita: “if it [the couple’s vibrator] is used when cheating with someone else, it’s mortal. You feel like dying.” Therefore, when such relationships are interrupted, consumers are faced with the need to deal with the memory of the couple tied to the object, which may lead to its disposal or, on the contrary, may create difficulty in discarding it. Three consumers described in detail the episodes in which they had to go out in order to discard old or damaged vibrators. These reports reveal, from the perspective of marketing, a need not met by industry and, from the anthropological point of view, the strategies employed by consumers to deal with broken relationships. For Ruth, it was necessary to acquire a new vibrator – christened James – so she could get rid of the old one: [If] someone goes through your trash, they’ll know it was you. (…) It’s hard to believe, but I put it in a plastic bag, took the car, looked for a public dumpster, and placed it inside. (…) But I only threw it away after James arrived.

The same concern permeates the three reports: that of being seen and recognized at the time of disposal or of being identified by the contents of their trash. Michelle preferred the presence of a friend at the time of disposal to doing it alone or with her husband: I looked like a spy (laughs), throwing those dicks in trash bins throughout Rio de Janeiro. (…) I put each in a black plastic bag and went to dump the corpses. Then a friend was with me and she said “throw it in this trash can here,” because there was a trash can outside a house. Then I noticed it was my ex-boyfriend’s sister’s house. Just imagine if CCTV caught me! [The sister would think:] “The pervert who didn’t marry my brother dumping dead dicks in my trash!” (laughs). Then I went to the mall, there I dumped a bunch of cock sleeves, each in a … Because they weren’t going to fit in a single garbage can at the mall. So I placed each sleeve in a plastic bag, and went about dumping the dead bodies. I looked like a kidnapper picking up ransom money in the bin. (…) I dumped it and glanced around … Then I walked to another trash can … And my friend laughing her ass off!

Informant Julia (38 y.o., business graduate and stay-at-home mom, married, heterosexual) described the disposal of five old vibrators, which were accumulated until she could finally throw them away. When she moved not only residence,

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but also country, and changed her civil status, Julia took with her the vibrators that were “already dead” because she could not discard them alone in Brazil. Her new husband, who had given her the vibrators when they were dating and living in separate countries, went along during the disposal in Germany. The association of the product with the relationship becomes evident. When moving to a new residence, the decision of what objects to take and what to leave can be strongly based on which personal relationships still matter to the individual who moves (Miller, 2010). So, for Julia, her relationship, that transformed with the move from dating to marriage, was of the utmost importance. So much so that the erotic objects given to her by her husband, then boyfriend, followed in the luggage to Germany, despite being old and damaged: I took like five damaged ones to Germany, because I didn’t have the guts to throw them away here! (…) I wrapped them all in a newspaper and we threw it in a public dumpster. Far from home (laughs)! First because I was already feeling bad, my vibrator was like a friend to me (laughs). Second because I was embarrassed to throw them away, can you imagine?!

As it turned out, discarding erotic products like the vibrator is problematic. It is done in secrecy with the help of trusted people. Reports on the disposal of erotic cosmetics, on the other hand, showed it as less problematic. However, they can also carry profound emotional tensions. Lilian (45 y.o., cook, divorced, heterosexual) immediately decided to get rid of all erotic cosmetics after her divorce, because they brought back memories of her ex-husband. She gave them to her daughter and former sister-in-law: “I turned cold. (…) Costumes, lots of oils and creams, I gave everything away. I said ‘Since he’s leaving, I don’t want to keep those memories in my head.’” Miller (2010) argues that the materiality of objects is important in determining the temporality of their disposal. That is, depending on the material of which the object is made, it can be discarded more or less quickly. If an intangible song may remind a departed romantic partner (Miller, 2010), a tangible solid object made of plastic, sometimes shaped like a body part, may have an even stronger association with that person. When it comes to creamy or liquid cosmetics, even if associated with a former husband, those were disposed of with relative swiftness and without embarrassment, by being passed on to others.

DISCUSSION: OBJECTIFICATION AND PERSONIFICATION The Dialectical Theory of Material Culture (Miller, 2010) builds on the notion that things create people as much as people create things, in a dialectical process that invariably results in transformations. On the one hand, subjects create objects when they literally manufacture them – as producers – and also when they modify their matter or their meanings – as consumers, which can be done at any stage of the consumption cycle. The adaptation of the back massager to clitoral masturbation is the most emblematic example, within erotic consumption, of the transformation of an object by the subject. On the other hand, in a process of objectification, objects create subjects when the former exercise their agency over

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the latter, turning consumers into new people, inextricably part of a larger assemblage or network. Data interpretation pointed to a process of objectification of the female consumer of erotic products, who submits to the agency of the erotic objects with which she interacts, emerging transformed from this interaction. So, objectification, in a broader, sense refers to the dynamic process that simultaneously produces subjects and objects, in a mutually constitutive manner. More specifically, it refers to the capacity of objects to transform subjects. It is important to highlight a parallel process that emerged from field data: the personification of the object. While objectification transforms the woman, who allows herself to be indelibly penetrated by the object – in many cases literally – personification transforms the object, giving it human characteristics. Although personification is performed by people on objects, it is does not render objects passive. Like objectification, personification reinforces objects’ capacity to transform subjects, by framing them as the very entities we are used to thinking of as possessing agency: people. As Strathern (1988, p. 171) puts it: To state that these (…) objects are “personifications” is not to set them against “objectifications,” for that implies (…) the separation of subjects from objects (…). Objects are created not in contradistinction to persons but out of persons.

Bianca and Ruth had vibrators with the same name: James. The vibrator was, therefore, their butler, “who did everything for them.” Here we see a relationship between boss and servant. In Bianca and Ruth’s conversations, “James” became a secret synonym for “vibrator.” Caroline and her husband nicknamed their dildo Anthony. In calling the object by a person’s name, they reinforce the idea that there would be a third person participating in the sexual act, in their case a second man. Francine influenced friends to adopt erotic consumption. One of them used to refer to her vibrator as Paulinho, who became her company for those evenings when she decided to stay in. In this case, the relationship between consumer and product is that of lovers, and not of a servant or a third person. As for Julia, her vibrator was “like a friend” to her. Frida, who gifted her boyfriend with a basket of erotic products in a frustrating experience, thus justifies her rejection of erotic consumption: “Because if you have to depend on a product to spice up your relationship … A third person. (…) An interference in your relationship. Which actually enters your body.” With this, she also attributes to the vibrator the role of a “third person,” like Caroline. For Frida, penetration seems to confirm and reinforce the personification of the vibrator, which becomes an undesirable intruder, a crasher at her party. In describing the disposal of vibrators, informants Michelle, Julia, and Ruth used the following terms: “corpse,” “burial,” “dying,” “dumping bodies,” and “black plastic bag.” In addition, when talking about storage, Julia said that three of her vibrators, made of the same material, “go to sleep together.” To discard her old dead vibrator, Ruth had to buy a new living one and christen it James. Treating such objects as alive, dead, or asleep is a form of personification. The adoption of names like Johnnie, Anthony, Paulinho, James, and Barbie, are also evidence of the personification of the vibrator – an object with its own life and death, besides the previously discussed attributes of agency and obduracy (Miller, 2010).

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In the emic talk, it is possible to notice more than the mere adoption of a figure of speech. The unconscious use of prosopopeia denotes a solid network formed by the different actors participating in erotic consumption. In other words, it denotes the strength of the glue that keeps these assemblages together, making it difficult to break them apart.

CONCLUSION The present study aimed at understanding the social life of erotic products along their consumption cycle, extending previous neomaterialist studies, by focusing on how erotic product’s agency allows them to become mediators of the interaction between interviewed consumers and other actors. While attaining these contextbound objectives, the study uncovered a series of transformations performed by the object on the consumer (i.e., objectification of the consumer) and vice versa (i.e., personification of the object). These processes help understand tensions inherent to networks and assemblages formed by material actors that are part of erotic consumption. They also suggest, along the consumption cycle, unmet consumer needs that may be tended to by industry, like disposal issues, consummating this study’s practical contribution (Brei, Farias, Matos, & Mazzon, 2017). As a context-transferable theoretical contribution (Brei et al., 2017), this research showed that the erotic product’s consumption cycle may be scrutinized for more than just meanings; each stage contains evidence of objects’ and subjects’ agency and transformation. This underlying premise may be extended to other business sectors. The study also discovered the phenomenon of personification not just as symbolic language but, more importantly, as enforcer of objects’ agency. This report tried to follow 2018 CCT Conference’s size requirements present in the call for papers and is, therefore, limited to only two stages of the consumption cycle: usage and disposal. The adoption of the Itinerary Method was limited by the impossibility of watching products in use, due to their very intimate nature, forcing the reliance on interview data when it came to usage. The absence of perspectives provided by informants’ relationship partners concerning the use of the erotic objects in question also limits findings. Future studies may adopt a comparative approach, trying to understand if different assemblages emerge in different groups of consumers, such as: single and married; old and young; homosexuals, bisexuals and heterosexuals; high income and mid to low income. Many other future possibilities exist for CCT studies on sexuality-related consumption, since scholars have only just started to investigate and theorize about this rising phenomenon.

ACKNOWLEDGMENTS I would like to thank Eric Arnould and John Schouten for their valuable advice regarding this chapter. I also thank organizers, track leaders, reviewers, and audience at the 2018 CCT Conference for their time and helpful suggestions.

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CHAPTER 3 “WHEN YOUR DOG MATCHES YOUR DECOR”: OBJECT AGENCY OF LIVING AND NON-LIVING ENTITIES IN HOME ASSEMBLAGE Henna Syrjälä and Anu Norrgrann

ABSTRACT Purpose: This chapter examines two rather extreme examples of non-human entities in home assemblage, interior objects, and companion animals, and how their agency appears distributed with human consumers in assembling home. The authors aim at drawing conceptual contrasts and overlappings in how agency expresses itself in these categories of living and non-living entities, highlighting the multifaceted manifestations of object agency. Methodology/Approach: This chapter employs multiple sets of ethnographically inspired data, ranging from ethnographic interviews and an autoethnographic diary to three types of (auto-)netnographic data. Findings: The findings showcase oscillation of agency between these three analytic categories (human, non-human living, and non-human non-living), focusing on how it is distributed between two of the entities at a time, within the heterogeneous assemblage of home. Furthermore, the findings show instances in which agency emerges as shared between all three entities. Originality/Value: The contribution of this chapter comes from advancing existing discussion on object agency toward the focus on distributed and shared agency. The research adds to the prevailing discussion by exhibiting how agency

Consumer Culture Theory Research in Consumer Behavior, Volume 20, 39–54 Copyright © 2019 by Emerald Publishing Limited All rights of reproduction in any form reserved ISSN: 0885-2111/doi:10.1108/S0885-211120190000020006

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oscillates between different types of interacting entities in the assemblage, and in particular, how the two types of non-human entities are agentic. The research demonstrates the variability and interwovenness of non-human and human, living and non-living agency as they appear intertwined in home assemblage. Keywords: Object agency; assemblage; non-human entity; pets; home; ethnography

INTRODUCTION There is a growing consumer research interest in discussions on agency of nonhuman objects (e.g., Bajde, 2013; Bettany & Kerrane, 2011; Borgerson, 2013; Canniford & Bajde, 2016; Syrjälä, Jaskari, & Leipämaa-Leskinen, 2016). This study joins this stream of research by focusing on object agency of non-living and living entities as it appears distributed with human beings. By focusing on two rather extreme examples of non-human entities in home assemblage, interior objects and companion animals, we aim to draw conceptual contrasts and overlappings, and examine how manifestations of object agency of such different entities is intertwined in the assembling and reassembling of home. When it comes to prior examinations of the home, many consumer researchers have focused on symbols, meanings and practices, and the expressive capacities of objects in the home (Arsel & Bean, 2013; Csikszentmihalyi & Rochberg-Halton, 1981; Figueiredo, 2016). Recent studies have adopted an agency perspective, considering how objects, such as pieces of furniture, interact with and become integrated into a network of practices, spaces, and other objects. In these networks, single objects receive their transformative potentialities, and material and expressive capacities as a result of interaction with the assemblage (Epp & Price, 2010; Figueiredo, 2016; Valtonen & Närvänen, 2015). We lean on Figueiredo’s (2016, p. 81) definition of home assemblage as “all the heterogeneous elements that compose the sense of home and also the innumerable acts of homemaking that allow for home to emerge,” which provides a particularly suitable understanding for illuminating the combinations and contradictions in object agency as it acknowledges that home is both an existing mental and physical space as well as a continuous process of home-making that gets re-constructed over and over again. Indeed, as a spatial assemblage home is “constructed from distributed entanglements of both material (e.g., objects, physical locations, technologies) and expressive components (e.g., language, signs, gestures, codes and laws)” (Canniford, Riach, & Hill, 2018, p. 235). Furthermore, any spatial assemblage, such as a home, is to be understood as nested in, and connected to other, broader cultural systems, as well as to more localized, micro-level mundane interactions (Askegaard & Linnet, 2011; Canniford et al., 2018). Interior decoration as an activity thus reflects this process nature of connecting various material and living entities, cultural symbols and different practices in an ongoing attempt to achieve a beautiful and functional home. Within the extant research on animals and humans, there is also an increasing stream of studies that abandon the human perspective that gives roles to animals

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in humans’ lives, such as regarding animals as subjects and/or objects (e.g., Belk, 1996; Hirschman, 1994; Holbrook, Stephens, Day, Holbrook, & Strazar, 2001; Jyrinki, 2012). The so-called post-humanist studies (Bettany & Daly, 2008; Bettany & Kerrane, 2011; Smith, 2016; Syrjälä et al., 2016) take a leap beyond stable subject and object conceptualizations, and focus on the ways the non-human and human co-emerge as mutually implicative. Taking into account both the phenomena of interior objects and pets in the home, there appears a need for research that digs conceptually deeper into the particularities of non-human object agency. Methodologically, this chapter draws on multiple sets of ethnographically inspired data. These varieties range from ethnographic interviews to an autoethnographic diary (by first author) (Anderson, 2006), and three types of (auto-)netnographic data (Kozinets, 2015; Syrjälä & Norrgrann, 2018): a blog and an online diary (by second author), as well as discussions in two Facebook groups. Each of these data sets depart from a topic focus on either pets or interior. Nevertheless, the content of the material reveals how interwoven these entities actually are in home assemblage; the pet-related discussions frequently touch on material aspects of the home, and vice versa. Prior research highlights effects and intentions as key elements of (non-)human agency (Borgerson, 2013), and concludes how some capacity of intentions may emerge both within living and non-living entities in the case of the same animal being by comparing agency of a living horse and non-living horsemeat (Syrjälä et al., 2016). The current research adds to this discussion by exhibiting how different non-human entities create effects and show intentions in relation to human beings in home assemblage. As a starting point for our analysis, we regard nonliving entities such as furniture to illustrate agency in terms of effects, while pets as living entities are able to highlight the intentional dimension of object agency. However, we lean explicitly on the notion of distributed agency (Bajde, 2013; Brembeck, 2008) and thereby zoom into two of the entities between whom the agency is distributed at the time, while acknowledging the presence of the third entity – and the whole set of thousands of other elements in the home assemblage. In this manner, we examine interactions between these three analytic categories (human, non-human living, and non-human non-living), and when related to human entities we emphasize those moments of agency, where human agency momentarily steps more into the background and agency oscillates to non-human entities. Furthermore, our findings show particular instances in which the agency emerges shared between all three entities. The contribution of this chapter comes from advancing existing discussion on object agency toward the focus on distributed, and eventually shared agency. Our findings demonstrate the variability and interwovenness of non-human and human, living and non-living agency, as they appear integrated in the home assemblage.

NON-HUMAN AGENCY IN HOME ASSEMBLAGE: THEORETICAL UNDERPINNINGS From the traditional viewpoint, agency is seen as possessed solely by the human consumer, in charge of making consumption choices. For instance, the acquisition

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of any consumption object into one’s home, be it a dog, or a sofa, is considered to be based on a more or less conscious decision-making process of the human consumer. According to this perspective, the non-human objects fulfill various functions for the human consumer (Zwick & Dholakia, 2006). In this regard, the home and its spaces emerge as sites guided by humans’ actions, meaning-making and everyday practices (cf. Hirschman, Ruvio, & Belk, 2012). If we question this dominant assumption and take the notion of oscillating agency and ontological shifting between subject and object relations (e.g., Bettany & Daly, 2008) into account, we move to a post-human view in consumption. In this view, even when the human entity is holding agentic power to make consumptionrelated decisions, the non-human entity may be considered as agentic and effectevoking for instance through grasping the attention or creating an emotion in the human consumer, like an invitingly displayed sofa in a store or the tail-wagging of a puppy. Zwick and Dholakia (2006) state that the social relations between human and non-human are not supposed to be just like between humans, but when holding agency, the “things” are experiencing and reflexive beings, not mere accomplishers. When it comes to the agentic capabilities of material objects in the home Epp and Price (2010) and Figuereido (2016) understand their agency not as purposefully intentional, but as capable of being agentic through their relations. If we move toward the examination of other types of non-human entities than material objects, the spectrum of how agency exhibits itself becomes broader. Borgerson (2013) has suggested that agency may be analyzed in terms of effects and intentions. According to Borgerson (2013) both subjects and objects are seen to cause effects, yet, only subjects have the capacity to plan and initiate, and thereby to show intentions. Nonliving objects are thus not intentional, but instead, their functional qualities – what can be done with those objects – becomes significant (Ilmonen, 2004). To draw attention to the variability of agency that different non-human entities are capable of expressing in an assemblage, we present a conceptualization (Fig. 1) grounded in the works of Borgerson (2013) and Syrjälä et al. (2016) on non-human agency in terms of effects and intentions. At the bottom of the figure (human) the agency may take shape as effects and intentions. In the nonhuman end (upper part of the figure) the expression of agency differs according to whether the object is living (e.g., pet) or non-living (e.g., furniture), implying that only living entities are capable of purposefully intentional agency. However, adhering to actor-network theory, we acknowledge the ontology of objects within consumption spaces as relational (Hill, Canniford, & Mol, 2014), implying that the value of an object is not fixed, but negotiated in relation to other entities in the assemblage. Agency always emerges as distributed (Bajde, 2013; Brembeck, 2008), referring to the view that any purposeful action and intentionality may not be seen as a property of an object, but neither do they belong solely to subjects. Instead, they are properties of collectives consisting of human and non-human entities (Latour, 1999), which currently is the heterogeneous network of home assemblage. Hence, the vertical axis of Fig. 1 is to be understood as distributed or oscillating agency, because people cannot be seen as isolated from other entities. This means that agency is not possessed exclusively by any entity (be it living or non-living,

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Fig. 1.  The Agency of Non-human and Human, Living, and Non-living Entities.

human or not). Instead, agency accumulates through interaction as non-living elements sustain agency and take part in co-creation (Ruckenstein, 2015). Following this notion, for instance the interconnectedness of a consumer and a pet has been characterized as a co-consuming unit, in which agency fluctuates, being in certain moments more inclined to the human, and on other occasions it is the animal partner that holds more of the agentic power (Kylkilahti, Syrjälä, Autio, Autio, & Kuismin, 2016). In this manner, different entities are ontologically indeterminate, as their boundaries and meanings are not fixed, but co-constituted and in a continuous state of mutual becoming (Haraway, 2003). Bettany and Daly (2008, p. 410) describe this type of approach to focus “on iterative processes by which both human and non-human actors co-emerge to reproduce or transgress cultural norms and categories in specific cultural milieus.” By acknowledging this continuous process of co-emergence, the current chapter investigates the kind of snapshots within agency oscillation in which a specific entity “flickers” in an agentic position in relation other entities within the home assemblage.

METHODOLOGY As agency is an elusive and fluctuating phenomenon and empirically difficult to attain, we have chosen to use a pluralistic combination of ethnographic methodologies to achieve our research aim. These range from ethnographic interviews

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and an autoethnographic diary (Anderson, 2006), to three varieties of (auto-)netnographic data (Kozinets, 2015; Syrjälä & Norrgrann, 2018) representing differing degrees of privacy, extent of social interaction, amount of participants, and degree to which the authors themselves contribute. The range of data sets allows us to address the phenomenon in both breadth (netnography and interviews) and depth (autoethnography and auto-netnography), and root our autoethnographic observations in a broader cultural context in which we are natural members. Similar to how Syrjälä and Norrgrann (2018, p. 148) describe auto-netnography the plural methodologies provide us an in-depth understanding that can only be provided by using the researcher as a research tool (Anderson, 2006; Syrjälä, 2016), [and] netnography within social media platforms extends the perspective and provides breadth to the analysis (Kozinets, 2015).

Even though the data sets differ by topic (pets/interior objects), in all of them, both types of non-human entities and their interlinkages within home assemblage are discussed. Thus, these different data sets (Table 1) enable us to delve into assembling home in terms of how animals, and furniture and other interior objects exhibit agency. All data were generated in Finland. The interviewees (data 1) were recruited during fieldwork in pet supply stores, vet clinics and communal dog parks, as well as through snowball sampling. Altogether 40 different kinds of pet owners were interviewed on their pet-related lifestyle, 28 women and 15 men took part in the interviews, ages varying from 21 to 75 years. During the interviews, pet owners’ everyday life and pet-related Table 1.  Data Sets of the Research. Varieties of Ethnographic Ethnographic Interviews (1) Data

Sharing

Digital vs analog Focus: Pets vs interior objects Amount of data

Autoethno­ graphic Diary (2)

Auto (-netno) graphic Diary in a Closed Discussion Forum (3)

(Auto-) netnographic Blog as a Diary (4)

Social Media Groups (5)

Private Not shared conversations at all, no interaction Analog Analog

Limited Public, audience, interactive interactive Digital Digital

Public, based on communal interaction Digital

Pets

Interior objects

Pets and interior objects

Pets

40 interviewees, 2 years, 88 360 pages of pages transcripts of diary

Interior objects

4 years, 5 3 years, 241 “Life with months, posts, 130,000 dogs”, 28,398 1880 posts/ views, participants comments 30 followers “Modern and Scandinavian interior decoration”, 87,309 participants

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consumption were discussed from several angles. Interviewees were asked and encouraged to tell freely about their daily routines, problematic situations, service encounters, and products, and also about potential pet-related hobbies and hobby communities. Thus, although the focus was on pets in these interviews, also domestic life and aspects relating to home came up. The autoethnographic data (2) consists of the first author’s analog diary about her dog-related lifestyle, and it stems from doings, meanings, discourses, and practices that are carried out and socially constructed in the everyday life of the author. Thus, these series of diary entries are based on “living” within the community of dog owners and thereby it is a tool to make visible the cultural and social meanings and practices in the intertwined processes of object agency (cf. Anderson, 2006; Moisander & Valtonen 2006, p. 63). This data set is mostly focused on companion animals as its original aim was to describe the processes of becoming a serious dog devotee (see, Syrjälä, 2016); however, such process of change touches various life spheres, such as family life and home (construction). Data sets 3 and 4 present different varieties of auto-netnography (Kozinets, 2015, pp. 256–261; Syrjälä & Norrgrann, 2018) as they consist of diary-like representation on the second author’s project of house planning and construction, continuing into a hobby of interior design and decoration in the online platforms. Dogs are also part of this home assemblage. The online diary in a closed discussion forum (data 3) comes closer to an autoethnographic diary by being a spontaneous expression of feelings and ponderings, as well as an account of how practical events unfold. However, the fact that the diary was written online in a closed discussion forum, rather than only for oneself, entails the element of social interaction as in netnography. The forum consisted of 152 members that had joined the community by invitation several years earlier, which means that most members knew each other fairly well enabling a candid and personal manner of writing and sociable interaction. The fourth data set, the public blog, also relates to the second author’s house project. The aim of such a platform was to document the project in a more structured and searchable way, keeping better track of links, pictures and work phases. In contrast to the diary, the blog adhered to a more neutral expression, influenced partly by the fact that the blog became part of a co-operation with the house supplier, and was publicly available for anyone to read and comment. In line with discourses in similar interior design-oriented blogs, the focus was not only on describing a construction process, but applying a more aesthetic angle to it, discussing and negotiating what is stylistically desirable. Also, a more dominant use of images is characteristic for blog platforms to construct and convey symbolic meanings. In this sense, these two sites for documenting the process served different purposes; one being the public facade more consciously presented toward an audience, and the other revealing the more personal ponderings “behind the scenes.” Lastly, we draw from typical forms of netnographic data, two Facebook groups. On the one hand, we followed and participated in a group for dog owners, labeled “Life with dogs.” In this group, the social interaction is casual, funny and supportive in nature, even though most members (28,398 altogether) are unfamiliar to one another. The posts commonly delineate everyday life with dogs, for instance funny things dogs do, and how life is organized and sometimes

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troubled because of them. The second Facebook group (labeled “Modern and Scandinavian interior decoration”) focuses on a decoration style that is typical in contemporary Finland. In the group, members share inspiring pictures from their homes, and ask for, and provide ideas and advice. Interestingly, pictures with pets and topics concerning pets in the home, interacting with the decor, are abundant. Also in this group, the members (87,309 altogether) are gathered around a shared interest, and social interaction is casual and mostly positive in nature. In the dogrelated Facebook group, we searched for and participated in the discussions on home-related matters, whereas in the interior decoration groups we did the same in relation to pets in home assemblages.

FINDINGS Next, we use our empirical data to elaborate on how object agency appears when distributed with other non-human and human entities. We rely on the understanding of agency (i.e., effects and intentions) discussed in the theoretical section to identify agency oscillation in relations between human and non-human, living and non-living entities. In order to pinpoint the momentary shifting of agency among these entities more specifically, we structure our discussion according to the triadic illustration presented in Fig. 2, comprising the three types of entities (human, animal, and material object) and the relations and agency overlappings between them. By doing so, we base our findings on the idea of distributed agency, however acknowledging the presence of the multiple elements of the assemblage. In the following, we discuss our findings each dual relation at a time to illuminate the flickering of agency of certain relations and actors. Distributed Agency in the Human–Animal Relation When agency oscillates between human and other living beings – as both able to exhibit agency in terms intentions – we can observe, on the one hand, instances where the decisive power appears to be more possessed by the human entity, and the pet’s role remaining more passive or indirect. On the other hand,

Fig. 2.  Distributed and Shared Agency in Relations Between Human, Animal, and Material Object.

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there are situations where the distributed agency between human and animal is more inclined to the pet. The first type resembles how Kylkilahti et al. (2016) describe the pet as an intermediary in a co-consuming – human and pet – unit, referring to the idea that the pet is involved in different consumption activities that may or may not relate directly to the pet, but where the final call is held by the human. All of the data sets include a wide variety of illustrations of instances where pets have a significant impact on consumer decisions, from smaller purchases to major life choices. For instance, the first author describes in her diary the ways dogs show agency by implying effects on quite notable life circumstances, like the location and type of residence (also, Kylkilahti et al., 2016): We decided to move to this small village, to the countryside. The most important thing is of course that we have easy access to walks in the forest right from our doorstep, and that it is possible to build agility courses in the yard.

Furthermore, many everyday practices appear to be constructed so that the animal effects are taken into account. The data show, for instance, how the transition between outdoors and indoors is arranged in the houses; many have paw wash basins or paw towels nearby the front door so that they can be easily accessed when coming from the outside. In contrast to these examples where the human consumer’s role as an assembler is more pronounced, agency in the human–animal relation can also shift toward the non-human. In such instances, the human’s role recedes into the background, while the non-human living partner steps forth as a consumer, much like Kylkilahti et al. (2016) state, the experiencer in a co-consuming unit. In a similar sense as Bettany and Daly (2008, p. 411) describe the concept of ownership relating to Afghan hounds: “If ownership is spoken of at all, then hounds ‘own’ humans, not the other way around.” One of the commonplace ways pets show agency in the home assemblage is to alter the spatial boundaries of assigned (by the human) to them, as this quote illustrates: “Whoops! We haven’t allowed Daisy on the couch or bed … but now the guest bed was too much of a temptation.” In the Facebook group for dog owners, there were indeed a plurality of pictures of sleeping dogs, occupying all sorts of furnitures. Valtonen and Närvänen (2016, p. 380) call this as a “power struggle” in which the animal companion might find its way to the (originally only) human domain. Thus, pet’s intentional agency very tangibly appears to produce effects on how the home assemblage gets remolded. A similar example in which the animal entity had revised the human actor’s choices came up in the ethnographic interviews, when a couple owning cats told how the cats’ climbing apparatus was originally placed in the office room, away from the other family actions, but it seems that even cats are so social that they didn’t feel happy in there, so we needed to bring the climbing apparatus back to the living room so that they would use it continuously. It appears that even cats at least to some extent want to be where we are.

Another example from a Facebook-discussion on where/how to (neatly) store dog food highlights dog agency in opposition with human home decorating efforts and the implications for use of spaces in the home:

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HENNA SYRJÄLÄ AND ANU NORRGRANN I have to ask you, don’t your dogs push those cans, baskets etc. over, and eat it all when they are left alone? I’d sure like to store the food somewhere nice too, but right now I have 30 kg of dog kibble stacked up in our sauna.

Thus, it is not only effects, but also intentional behaviors of the animal entities that appear in these agentic actions. Distributed Agency in the Human–Material Object Relation Non-living entities in the home assemblage, such as pieces of furniture, textiles, decorative objects, or surface materials do not possess intentional agency like pets, but their agency is activated as part of the actor network of the home, of its distributed agency; where their characteristics momentarily can oscillate to provide meanings and cause effects in relation to other entities in the processes of home assemblage. Sometimes these effects can even be concrete, like wellbeing after sleeping in a comfortable bed or a cleaner house, enabled by a special shower for washing dirty dogs paws at the house entrance (data 3). In the interior decoration context, much of the general discourse revolves around “how things fit together,” either aesthetically, spatially, practically or even within the frame of the economic or temporal resources available, reflecting the relational nature of objects. For instance, the importance of aesthetic matching in pet homes gets discussed in the Facebook group for interior decoration enthusiasts: Is there anyone else here who has a cage [of a rabbit] as a part of their interior decoration? I would like to see pictures. Cages from the pet stores didn’t really persuade me, so I made this one myself and saved some money :). I was anyway desiring to use warehouse shelves in the decor.

The quote highlights how the pet-related material objects interact and induce effects (like persuade, or not) with the human entity in assembling the home, as the human consumer rejects the traditional object for the purpose and engages in online negotiation with others about how objects in the home could be reassembled for this pet-related purpose. In all of the interior-related data sets, there are many examples of similar, non-living object agency taking place through a process of interacted influence, where an object triggers mental processing and/or concrete behaviors. The object agency appears distributed with human actors who combine or transform material objects in the home in novel ways through customization or reuse. As in the rabbit cage example above, the human consumer may post pictures of objects or constellations of interior elements that may evoke admiration, or provide ideas and inspiration for others’ interior projects. From the perspective of consumer culture, this sharing functions as a form of expression of a taste regime (cf. Arsel & Bean, 2013). In this, the members use (pictures of or references to) interior constellations to express their adherence to, for example, Scandinavian modernism, being aware of the objects, brands and designers considered as its common markers, but also participating in the dynamic negotiation and redefinition of the style, together with the material entities in their assemblages. Sometimes the effects are seen at a more practical level, like in a discussion thread on where to store dog kibble (data 5), which resulted in one of the members ordering online the same container whose practicality another member had just praised.

“When Your Dog Matches Your Decor”

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Thus, the agency of a specific material entity is closely linked to the actor network in which is it embedded and where its meanings and possibilities become activated. In the netnographic data, it could be argued that the home assemblages in fact link, through the communication and influencing platforms beyond the own home into the assemblages of other homes. A case in point from the interior Facebook group is the frequency of requests to show how a specific a decoration piece “looks in the real life settings,” in other people’s home assemblages, or whether members have experience of how a specific product works in a pet household. In this sense, the communication platforms can be considered as agentic parts of the assemblage, similarly as referred to by Arsel and Bean (2013). Distributed Agency in the Animal–Material Object Relation The third category delves into the most imaginative interaction type by elaborating on the manners in which non-human (living and non-living) entities interact to produce home assemblage. However, sometimes these interactions require human participation or orchestration, for instance by being the one who acquires and connects the non-human entities in the first place. This is how an interviewee describes all the things bought for the home after getting a cat: this apparatus for sharpening the claws was the first thing, then this litter box, which we call the throne, it is in the bathroom. And then of course all the food bowls, scoops and that stuff … and toys seem to be laying here and there, all over the place when one is vacuuming.

Thus, the material objects, brought in to the home by the human, but used and shuffled by the living non-human, re-construct the home continuously. The interaction between non-human entities – or a lack of interaction – may appear as decisive. For instance, a pet may refuse to play with a toy acquired for him/her, so the owner may act like the first author in her autoethnographic diary describes her actions “so I changed the toys wandering on the floor to news ones (as the old ones had not been played with for a while).” Another example from the interior group on Facebook shows how a dog as a living creature with its own intentions can refuse to perform a part in the assemblage that the human has composed: “Last Friday, a Labrador puppy moved in with us. I had bought this gorgeous bed that fit our interior, but damn, the puppy hasn’t slept in it once! :)” A more successful example of human stagesetting of non-living and living entities is this Facebook comment to how dogs and their ways of using furniture in the home have been taken into consideration: “We just reorganised the furniture in the room, and for our dog it’s important that (s)he sees out the window, so we bought this ottoman just for the dog.” Similarly, a quote from a Facebook group shows how an exclusive and rather expensive designer vase may end up as a drinking vessel due to the distributed agency between non-human entities: Our boys [cats] agree to drink only from the Aalto vase, and occasionally from a running tap … We have two Aalto vases, white and blue-white, of which the white one is the boys’ favourite.

Intentional agency of companion animals interacting with non-living entities may also happen in combinations without (or against) human involvement, such as in cases when pets have made a mess when home alone, or taken objects

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HENNA SYRJÄLÄ AND ANU NORRGRANN

into possession in their own ways, such as an image in Facebook group of a cat lying in the rattan basket of a piece of Alvar Aalto furniture, the owner commenting “let’s put it this way, I didn’t exactly buy this tea trolley for this purpose,” and one of the comments seconding that “that definitely is a cat’s den