Less is more? Not anymore. More is more. And even more is more better.
Midcentury architect Ludwig Mies van der Rohe1 claims to have coined the phrase “Less is more” in the 1940s. The phrase came to define the spare, bold vision of modernist art and architecture and became the anthem of the minimalist movement of the 1950s and beyond. The philosophy of “Less is more” began to spill over from the art world into our daily lives. By the 1970s, minimalists were promoting the phrase, applying it to cooking and decorating.2
Poet Robert Browning, however, mentions the phrase as early as 1855, reminding us once again that the art world has a persistent and predictable habit of plagiarism.
Regardless of who invented the phrase “Less is more,” it was once a standard by which many lived and worked.
Now, decades into the Information Age, we are up to our ears in clutter. We have more stuff than we need, keeping it in storage units. And we have more options than at any point in human history.
Brushing up on the toothbrush
I realized we had devolved into a “More is more” society the other day while standing in the toothbrush aisle at my neighborhood drugstore here in Wilson County. An entire aisle — five shelves tall — of toothbrushes. Soft ones, hard ones, several options of hardness in between. Angled heads, straight heads, round heads, square heads. Manual, electric, in every color of the rainbow, with various rubber grips. Some bristles alternate in height, sticking up a little higher than the others (for that deep reach in between your teeth), while others have bristles that are all the same height (for those whose teeth are more snug, I guess). Do we really need this many choices of toothbrush? Why does a drugstore out here in Wilson County need 300 different types of toothbrushes?
It’s not surprising that some of us are having anxiety over this. Choice overload — also known as overchoice, option surplus anxiety, choice paralysis or paradox of choice — describes how people get overwhelmed when they are presented with too many options.3
Information overstimulation
Streaming content is out of hand. It takes me twice as long to find a movie or TV show than it does to actually watch the show I end up falling asleep to. Last night I spent two hours sifting through streaming options before settling on an episode’ of “Dateline” I’ve already seen twice.4
Last week, a friend recommended a film that I’d like. I forgot the title, but I remembered it had the word “ring” in it. After scrolling through “Lord of the Rings,” “Ring of Deception,” “Ring of Fire,” “Ring of Desire,” “Ring of Darkness,” “Ring of Power,” “Ring of Death” and “Ring a Ting Ting (expletive),” I turned off my TV and decided to reorganize my silverware drawer.
Online onslaught
These days, anyone can have their own radio show. We call them podcasts now, and all you need is $200 of equipment and time — lots and lots of time.
There are 3 million podcasts in operation today, and very few seem to employ editors. There are also no real deadlines, so hosts can babble on and on until they think everyone’s had enough. So a lot of podcasts have become marathons for small talk. But just because a podcaster has four hours to sit and talk to his neighbor about pickleball, it doesn’t mean I’ll give them four hours of my life to listen.
The same is true with online shopping. I just bought a shirt on Amazon. I spent 20 minutes scrolling through 43 color and print options. It will be too small for me when it arrives, but I am so impressed by the color options, it won’t really matter.
I’m clearly part of the problem. I feel like a crow, endlessly mesmerized by shiny things. I pick them up with my beak, weave them into my nest and go back out to look for more.
Have you ever tried to read online recipes? You need the patience of Job and an IT degree to navigate to the actual ingredients and cooking steps. I lost an hour last week searching for a good banana pudding recipe like my Aunt Eula used to make. I found one, finally, but not without having to dodge pop-up ads like a postwar minefield — and then read the life stories of content providers who can’t decide whether they’re writing a cookbook or some tedious, random autobiography. I got my recipe, but I also learned my host was A) a single mom; B) a huge fan of Anne Rice; C) in need of a lazy, rainy Sunday with the dogs and D) “definitely not a racist.”
I didn’t need to know any of that stuff. I just wanted to make some banana pudding.5
Follicle folly
My father wore the same Red Wing boots his entire life. When the boots wore out, he’d get another pair just like them. I, on the other hand, found a shoe I liked on Amazon — a really nice, comfortable shoe — but when I went to buy it again a few years later, it had been upgraded to look like a speedboat. I don’t wear speedboats.
My dad had the same razor his entire life. It’s a heavy, solid hunk of metal. When you twist the bottom, the top of the razor opens up so you can change the blade. One single razor blade. He must have used that thing for 40 years. I have it now, and it’s nice to hold in my hands. It’s solid, like he was.
Then came the Razor Blade Wars of the 1990s. Remember that? Gillette started it all by releasing the Mach3 Razor, and everyone went bonkers. Then, Schick made one with four blades! Gasp! It was crazy! Subsequent razors came out with five blades, and that’s where it seemed to taper off.6
The human race was evolving by leaps and bounds. “Star Trek” was becoming a reality. Soon we’d be able to teleport!
I’m clearly part of the problem. I feel like a crow, endlessly mesmerized by shiny things. I pick them up with my beak, weave them into my nest and go back out to look for more.
But are these razors any better than Dad’s old razor? Experts argue that multiple-blade razors cause more ingrown hairs and skin irritation than single-blade razors. I’m no expert, but I have to say the best shaves I’ve ever had were from straight razors, the old school kind we see in John Wayne movies: one blade, sharpened with a leather strop that hangs on the back of your barber’s chair. Sadly, I haven’t been able to ask for such a shave since I saw “Sweeney Todd” in 2007.
Our forefathers slipped their used razor blades into a little slot in the wall next to the bathroom mirror. Used razor blades collected invisibly inside the walls of our homes for generations.
If you own a home built in the early 20th century, those slots have likely been tiled over during previous remodels, but you can bet there’s a pile of razor blades behind the plaster.
Today, 2 billion disposable razors get thrown away each year, ending up in landfills. They’re difficult to recycle. They’re made of combined materials, plastic and steel, so the separation process is tedious and costly.
And so it goes. We continually contemplate the mousetrap and how it might be improved upon — often discovering it was fine just the way it was.
I pulled out my father’s razor this morning. I opened it slowly and marveled at the engineering of this perfect little device. I slipped in a shiny new blade and lathered up.
I cut myself immediately.
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Antsy McClain is a Nashville-adjacent singer-songwriter, author, graphic artist and true-crime addict. Go to unhitched.com for his books, music and events. Use this QR code to download and listen to the sneak peak of “Dateline,” FREE to readers of The Tennessee Magazine.
Footnotes for the promise of a better tomorrow
1 Don’t bother trying to remember this guy’s name. It’s impossible. I’m calling him by the rapper name I made up for him: Luddy M. It’s concise; it’s easy. Just three syllables. And abbreviating his name as I have speaks to the topic at hand: “Less is more.” Listen, if you have too many names in your name, you’re just making it hard for everyone. Cher and Sting were really onto something. And Slash. And maybe Bono, although I pronounced it “Boe Noe” for years before I was corrected by an MTV host. But the way I figure it, Sonny Bono (correctly pronounced “Boe Noe”) got there first, and if you’re gonna make up a fake name, don’t steal it from an already-famous guy and then expect everyone to just go with your alternate pronunciation. That’s not cool. And it’s counterproductive from a promotional standpoint. If you have a product and you keep having to say, “Don’t let the name fool ya” it’s probably time to change the name.
2 Looking back at the 1970s, it’s obvious that few people were actually applying the phrase Less is more” in any practical manner. Wardrobe alone testifies to this fact with the mixing of plaids, stripes and polka dots. There was also an inexplicable abundance of paisley.
3 Even when trying to choose a name for “too many choices,” they can’t decide on one simple name! There are FIVE! And clearly, the first option, “choice overload,” is plenty sufficient. Just stop there.
4 I do not have an addictive personality, but just try and pry the remote from my hands while I’m watching a good true-crime show. I blame Keith Morrison, whose velvety voice puts me in a trance-like state. I fell asleep once while he was describing a suburban crime scene (it was the husband, of course), and I dreamed I was floating away on velvety clouds of pipe smoke and cotton candy. Everything smelled of French vanilla and Good & Plenty licorice candy. It’s Morrison’s voice, man. Close your eyes and tell me you don’t smell French vanilla when that man speaks.
5 I felt violated, in the same way I felt when I walked into my favorite coffee place and realized (too late) they were hosting a Beat Poetry Slam. I’ve never waited longer for a mocha latte in my life. Nothing has ever been made better or more interesting by adding the word “slam” to it. Poetry was just made weirdly violent, and I am forever disturbed.
6 I’ve just returned from a research rabbit hole, and I am out of breath, excited to report the current champion of the Blade Wars is Dorco razors with—drumroll, please—seven blades. Seven! I have been called a skeptic when it comes to things like national security or the judging criteria on “Dancing with the Stars,” but this has restored my faith in humanity
