Best of Writer Vixen: Originally posted July 2007
Jennifer C. and I were recently dishing about our computers (Macintosh laptops and displays, of course) and our music players (various sizes and generations of iPods and ViPods, of course) when she suddenly lowered her voice and leaned in close as if revealing a deeply personal secret.
“You know what? I actually feel like the fact that I use Apple products makes me, well . . .”—she silently mouthed the word—better. She looked worried. “Do you think that’s wrong?”
She didn’t mean, of course, that they improve her character or uplift her spiritually. She meant that choosing Apple demonstrates her inherent superiority to those who choose other—let’s be honest, lesser—brands. And no, she’s not wrong.
There are Republicans and Democrats, right-to-lifers and pro-choicers, and, of course, the great blonds versus brunettes debate. But the real cultural divide of our time is between Apple devotees and all the other guys.
Let’s face facts: the PC never had a chance. It’s the Cool Factor. You don’t use Apple products just to get a job done. You choose them because you also prioritize good taste and a sense of style in even the most mundane tasks of your day.
Apple’s hilarious TV ads capture the appeal: products work right out of the box, no viruses, and every detail of a superior user experience has been thoroughly thought out. The products are simple, gorgeous and fun to use, seamlessly integrating form with function. They don’t just look cool, they are cool. And everybody knows it, even Microsofties endlessly seeking the Apple-killing über-app, as elusive as the Holy Grail.
The ads also capture a more subtle truth: PCs (Microsofties) know they are hopelessly unhip and their products show it (Zune, anyone?). They violate Malcolm Gladwell's Third Rule of Cool: You have to be cool to know cool. Since they don’t “know cool” they can only emulate it. In fact, virtually every advancement in creating a better user experience—from software interfaces to streamlined hardware—is founded on Apple envy. And where Microsoft leads, all other wanna-be’s follow.
But it goes deeper. I’m quite adept at using PCs, and if I’d never used a Mac I wouldn’t know or care what I was missing. But the indelible fact is that every single one of my Apple products has served to cement an abiding emotional attachment that has never been inspired by a PC-anything.
My one personal foray into PC territory—for a Dell cinema display—was a traumatic and disillusioning experience, an object lesson in the perils of straying from a cozy and satisfying relationship with your true love. Remember Miranda Hobbes and her TiVo? That’s how I feel about every single one of my Apple products—blessed by a rare and precious relationship that anticipates my every need. I have friends with marriages weaker than this.
Apple introduced the first Mac in 1984. I had one of those adorable little boxes. Its current address is the permanent collection of the world’s leading museum of modern art, the New York MoMA.
The San Francisco MoMA also has one in its permanent collection, and I visit it from time to time. Not only do I feel an odd rush of affection whenever I see it, but I still have every Macintosh laptop I’ve ever owned, including the first one with a 20MB hard drive and a grayscale screen. They’re so beautifully designed that it seems deeply wrong to consign them to the landfill—like allowing a 50’s Corvette roadster to languish in a salvage yard.
So yes, secretly we Mac users really do think we’re better. Our hip tastes, smart sensibilities and exacting standards have been officially validated by the MoMAs in San Francisco and New York, as well as by the quality of our daily user experience.
But hey, we won’t say it to your face—that wouldn’t be PC.
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Twittering vixenish things @WriterVixen
