When I look at the set in my bathroom—a metal razor, a shaving brush, and a cleverly repurposed holder in the shape of an old Jaguar radiator ornament—at first glance, it’s a quiet still life of masculinity. But on second glance, it’s much more: a quiet engagement with the question of how many things we own, why we own them, and what they say about us.

The holder—a metal Jaguar now carrying shaving tools—is the most unnecessary element of this trio. And that’s exactly why it’s the most interesting. It serves no function that couldn’t be solved by a cup or a drawer. But it elevates the everyday to the sublime. It’s not necessary, but it’s desired – by me.

Things and Me
I don’t really have an emotional attachment to these objects or so I say. The razor is new, the brush, as well as the holder, is used; I found it online. Yet this trio forms a coherent picture for me. A picture that aligns with my character. Or rather: a picture that aligns with an image of my character. Because here, it’s not about shaving nor necessity, but about something else—about desire, aesthetics and order in the chaos of things. Truth is: I would like to shave, therefore I need a razor. Using a brush to apply the necessary product makes the whole procedure seem less cavemanlike. It´s culture – culture provided by objects being produced and used.

The books in my living room could easily rest on the floor – which used to be a trendy thing if you listen to Pinterest moodboards from ten years ago. Since that is not what I'm after, I´will need a shelf or other furniture, to house my belongings and keept them from gathering dust on the floor and instead gather dust a couple of centimeters above it. A house plant needs an inside and outside pot, and often something to stand upon – again three more additional things needed, not to mention the soil and regular watering procedure. It seems any thing is never a standalone entity, it is always accompanied by a chain of dependencies, an ecosystem that supports one single object.

Bruce Sterling and the Logic of Quality
I consider myself a (sort of) minimalist—in theory. In practice, things are different. I don’t own much, but I often sort, replace, rotate. A constant flow of acquisitions and reductions. An experimentation of the self through things. Bruce Sterling distinguishes in a talk four categories of objects: beautiful things, things with emotional significance, tools, and the rest—the stuff that can go. My razor set is a hybrid. It is useful (category 3), but also beautiful (category 1). And with that, it justifies its existence in my world. It might even be a statement. Sterling talks about the process of letting go of the last category and concludes: "After you go through this particular discipline, you will look different, you will act differently. You will become much more what you already are." A sentence that sticks with you. Because here, it’s not about asceticism, but about condensation. The idea that through things, we no longer show what we have—but who we are.

Things as Mirrors of the Self
How many things do we really need? Maybe fewer than we think. But perhaps we need the "right" things—not because of their function, but because of their effect on our self. The question isn’t: What does the thing do for me? But: What does it do to me? My bathroom isn’t shaped by the number of things, but by their meaning. The Jaguar razor holder is less of a tool and more a conversation with myself. It’s a story, a quote cast in metal. An example of what Bruce Sterling describes as transformation: reduction not as loss, but as revelation. Or put another way: Sometimes, you need things to free yourself from things. Kind of like a sculptor that reduces material over and over again until the desired shapes and forms are visible as intended.

It’s not just about the things we need; it’s about the things we allow ourselves to desire, to indulge in, to make statements about who we are. The question is no longer just about function but about how we relate to our possessions. What do these things say about us? Are they simply objects that serve a purpose, or do they represent a deeper frustration with the way consumerism has complicated our lives?

Literature
Elke Brüns: "Dinge. Warum wir sie brauchen und warum wir uns von ihnen trennen müssen",
2024 Philipp Reclam jun. Verlag GmbH
Bruce Sterling: reboot 11 closing talk
Gabriel Yoran: Die Verkrempelung der Welt