the rarity desire
Rarity: My Little Pony (Generation 4). Despite her name, she’s anything but.
What is it about the concept of rarity that compels us?
We are fascinated by rarity and value rare things. Rarity makes something intrinsically different.
Whether it is a small town in Kansas offering up the most bizarre of large and obscure roadside attractions such as the world’s largest ball of twine, or a flawless emerald, free of inclusions, we are innately interested in ‘the one and only’ just about anything, or anyone - as long as they are rare.
But why? Why does rarity matter so much to us? And where do we look to identify and validate that?
We don’t need rare things - but we do desire them. Consider Maslow’s Hierarchy of Needs where rarity can be located as an element of Esteem or Self-Actualization. Beyond food, shelter, and safety - it is with ‘belonging’ that rare things may make an impact. Possessing or collecting rare things may be useful as an investment or a sign of status. We can also locate the practice of collecting within this top-of-the-pyramid structure, too.
Maslow’s Hierarchy of Needs
Outside of physical rarity, value is represented by a market. Whether the market is for gold, gems or Pokemon cards, the perception of value resides within a market. Markets can be loosely organized, like spoon collectors, or highly organized, like investors in a stock market. Markets may come and go - for example, the Beanie Babies boom of the 1990s/early 2000s once had substantial value and is now essentially worthless. Or perhaps more exemplary, the infamous Dutch tulip market bubble of the 1630s.
These are temporary rarity structures. Without the value that a market assigns, an object may no longer be considered rare. Case in point - as very few people still collect Beanie Babies anymore, most hold very little value apart from a few exceptions
Clearly, a market helps to reinforce rarity - but this is not always the case.
Some types of rarity are more focused on fascination as opposed to just collecting. Like serial killers - their acts are despicable and heinous - but they hold a grip on popular culture and media. We are fascinated not by their violence, which we abhor - but because they are rare, morbidly different. And while there is a dark market of memorabilia of serial killers' personal items (such as websites that auction off true crime memorabilia or Adolf Hitler’s watercolor paintings) - this is simply a deeper expression of the rarity fascination shared by many.
The hair of Charles Manson, up for auction.
In either case - rarity expressed through market value, or rarity via fascination, the desire surrounding rarity is tied to identity. Rarity informs us about aspects of ourselves.
The topic of identity is central to our human experience, it is a pursuit. We continually pursue our identity - not only through art that we make, or collect, the music we like, the movies we watch, or the communities we are a part of.
While we are growing up, the pursuit of identity is a necessity - we are learning how to become someone, an independent member of society. As adults, we consider that our identity is ‘complete’, a finished process. But this is not the case. We continue to grow and change throughout our lives professionally, through our education, raising children, and through the biological cycles of life.
Identity drives much of what we do, invisibly. And the rarity desire is an expression of just that.
