She wants to be part of the queue
Wait what? I seem to be in the wrong species. We’re told that queuing for hours = pleasure.
It’s just before 06:00 on a Friday morning and on a busy central London street a queue is growing by the second. It’s dark and chilly, but I’m told the people at the front of this line have been here since 20:00 last night.
Christina Spence is waiting with hundreds of other people who want to be the first shoppers at Korean cosmetics retailer Skin Cupid’s first store. The 16-year-old, who is here with her sister and mum Cheryl, could just buy the products online – but she wants to be part of the queue.
You what? People started to line up at 8 pm and are still there at 6 am and they say it’s because they like doing that?
“Queuing up is exciting and exhilarating – the build up of walking in, and thinking ‘I’m finally here,'” Christina tells me.
After – assuming the shop opens at 9 – standing in the street for 13 hours most of which were in the dark and cold?
I mean you could do that anyway. You could stand outside your house or apartment block or dormitory from 8 pm to 9 am. There’s your excitement and exhilaration right there.
Twenty-six-year-old Maryam has been standing in line since 05:00. “I get to meet new people and have a really nice time,” Maryam explains, as she wraps her arm around someone she first met this morning.
This is only the second time Maryam has queued for an event like this. The first was for the opening of another Korean cosmetics retailer earlier this year.
So is the attraction the queuing or the Korean cosmetics?
Is there something special about Korean cosmetics? Why wasn’t I told?
“There’s a sense of camaraderie – we’re all here together,” Cheryl tells me. She and her daughters will brave all weather for a queue, she explains, exchanging waiting stories with those in the line.
Well, yes, but have you thought of maybe queueing inside a nice all-night Starbucks or fish and chips shop or hospital waiting room? Chairs, lights, roof and walls, warmth.
Others, like Shannon Louise Brown, have gone a step further by creating a “little community” with like-minded people. Gesturing to the people next to her, the 26-year-old explains she is with people she met at previous queues and with whom she keeps in touch.
“It’s really good to meet new people from different backgrounds,” Shannon Louise says, “where a city is so big, here, you get to make and meet friends”.
But aren’t there numerous other, more comfortable ways of doing that? With the added advantage of something more in common than a passion for Korean cosmetics?
Dr Nilufar Ahmed, a psychologist at the University of Bristol says the “anticipation” of what is to come when queuers reach the front of the line – the “reward” – plays a big part in why people do it.
Queuing for “pleasurable activities” – like shopping for luxury items, a bargain, or delicious food – creates a “distinctly different” feeling to queuing for something more mundane like buying your groceries, she says. “The anticipation of receiving a reward leads to the release of dopamine…which makes us feel good.”
This is why I say I must be another species. Under no circumstances could I get a nice little dopamine hit by standing in a line in the street for hours (or minutes). There are few things I hate more.
Adding to the appeal, Dr Ahmed adds, is when the queue is for something that is “hard to get”, or if a person has the “opportunity to be one of the first people to experience something”. Recent examples of this include queues of people snaking around high streets to get their hands on limited edition Labubu plush toys – which are usually sold out online.
“[This creates] a sense of excitement and buzz for the novelty and exclusiveness of the reward,” Dr Ahmed says.
Well, to put it bluntly, only if you’re seriously stupid. “Ooh I’m one of the few people who stood in line for 12 hours to buy a plush toy, how exhilarate.”
People are nuts.
You and me both! And what they receive from the queue – shopping – is another thing I loathe.
As for not feeling the same exhilaration shopping for groceries:
When I’m buying groceries, the knowledge that I will have food in the house that will allow me to survive through the next week is a reward. It is practical, valuable, and I buy things I enjoy eating. Shopping for cosmetics? That would be like pulling out my fingernails one by one – and I don’t care if they are Korean cosmetics.
I just don’t understand people.
I think that perhaps they, not we, are a new species. Humanity is rapidly evolving from Homo sapiens to Homo credulous.
Dammit, I know I typed credulus – my phone must have done another sneaky software update. ಠ︵ಠ
Let’s hope they never have to queue up for food at a soup kitchen.
When I was in London a few years back now, I was amused to see how orderly and dignified the Londoners were when standing and waiting at a typical bus stop. (As an impecunious and then young Australian tourist, with board and lodgings up in Highgate, iI was doing a lot of bus riding.)
That was OK until the bus pulled in. Then the orderly queue would transform instantly into a rugby ruck, except not as a team. It was one for one and none for all; everyone for theirself and all eager to be first aboard.Though when alighting, they managed the process with a dignity and decorum totally absent when boarding.
Could be something in the London water, which a Londoner friend sporting a Cambridge PhD in chemistry recently informed me typically passes these days through 7 sets of kidneys before reaching yours. So on that score alone, I can’t wait to not get back there.
Although I wouldn’t be interested in the cosmetics sale, I do have some understanding of the motivation to go through an ordeal, particularly a shared ordeal, in order to better enjoy the reward. And as long as the ordeal isn’t putting yourself or others at excessive risk, I think it’s a little mean-spirited to call it seriously stupid.
There’s a high tower in my city and I’ve been up it twice. One time I took the elevator, and the other time I climbed 1800 stairs along with a few thousand other people (a fundraising event). The view from the top was absolutely sweeter when I was all sweaty, leg muscles shaking, and full of pride in myself. And although the ordeal kind of sucked when I was going through it, it also had its moments of community that the trip on the elevator didn’t offer: commiserating with other climbers while taking breaks, trading fist bumps with strangers.
Sure, there are limits to what makes an ordeal reasonable. I would probably die if I climbed Mount Everest, resulting in grief for my loved ones and the risks and expenses of a rescue attempt or retrieval – so even if I didn’t mind dying, it would be selfish and stupid for me to attempt Mount Everest. But these makeup fans aren’t risking or harming themselves or anyone else, they’re just voluntarily taking on a little boredom and discomfort, so let them have their fun.
One more thing. People (not me!) routinely go out in the wilderness to hike and camp for days at a time, just for the satisfaction of having finished the trail or seen the view. And we don’t generally call them stupid or incomprehensible for taking on the hardships of backpacking for a nonessential reward, when they could be sleeping in their own beds or taking the cable car up the mountain instead. Why are we so much more likely to judge the people whose reward is being among the first to buy some popular makeup brand? Is it possible that it’s because makeup is a predominantly feminine interest?
It’s not really all that new a phenomenon. You used to see this with certain blockbuster movie releases, particularly anticipated sequels to major franchises like Star Wars. And during the last couple Harry Potter book releases, the bookstores would have fans lined up in robes and carrying wands for several hours.
And there’s a quirk in human psychology that makes us regard having gone through something mildly arduous for something pleasurable as ‘part of the fun’. It’s why a lot of folks take pride in their jobs, even if the jobs themselves really suck. (Think coal miners, for instance, or oil riggers.)
What I think is new is attaching this kind of fandom to basic commerce. Cosmetics are obviously a luxury good for 95% of the population (in that they don’t actually need them at all, but just ~want~ them). And yes, Korean cosmetics are the current big ‘thing’, although a lot of that may not transfer to the West for long, because my understanding is that a big part of the appeal of these stores in South Korea, proper, is that they have a level of service that American and European retailers haven’t indulged in in decades, including a lot of freebies being handed out on the regular.
John Hersey’s 1974(?) novel “My Petition for More Space” described how being in a queue could foster a sense of community. The book was basically about a seriously over crowded nation in which citizens had little opportunity for socializing. When the protagonist gets in line to ask the government for more space, he finds community and support from fellow line goers. His petition is denied, but he plans on returning soon with another request.
Most interactions are shallow and short, but when you spend a lot of time jammed up with strangers you can’t help but get a little more intimate. It has been 50 years since I read the book, and although I hate waiting anywhere for anything, I did understand the appeal for even superficial companionship.
My niece is addicted to Korean cosmetics, and I don’t understand that either.
I mean, trauma bonding is a thing, maybe this is just a variant of that?
¯\_(ツ)_/¯
I don’t get it either, but the human psyche is often… weird.
*… we, HUMAN psyche. Weird flex, autocorrect O.o
thelibrarian @ 6 – Well sure it’s a little mean-spirited; it was meant to be. It’s an irritable reaction to something I find silly, so of course it’s exaggerated and snide. That’s frequently on the menu here. But it’s not a very significant example of mean-spiritedness. It’s unlikely to hurt anyone’s feelings.
Climbing a tower for a fundraising event is a completely different kind of thing. I wouldn’t for a second call it stupid, much less seriously stupid. One, the purpose is good [unless it’s fundraising for Trump or something], and two, the price is fatigue and sweat as opposed to boredom.
I didn’t say the queue people were risking or harming themselves or anyone else, and that’s not what I think; I just think it’s slightly pathetic and absurd to queue for a consumer item for 15 hours for the sheer pleasure of queueing.
And the last question – I don’t make fun of people for hiking and camping, that’s true. No, that’s not because I think women are stupid. I think the comparison is a stretch. A big stretch. It’s not as if people in general love standing in lines in general. Most people don’t like it at all. Lots and lots of people love doing outdoor things though, whether it’s hiking and camping or swimming or running or riding a bike or a long list of items. I sometimes report here on my favorite recreation, which is taking buses to go all over Seattle and explore its parks, beaches, old growth forests, lakes, streams and so on. I report on it here and on Facebook partly to inspire other people to do the same (though I don’t insist they go by bus). So, no, this isn’t me sneering at something women do while I never sneer at something men do.
ibbica – very weird flex! I’ll leave people to guess, now that I’ve fixed it.
It’s the standard desire to engage in activities that result in a shared sense of camaraderie from joint suffering, and a way to prove one’s devotion to a brand or activity. Humans are also curious in that we will often subject ourselves to unpleasantness, needlessly, in order to build up anticipation and the sense of reward when the item is finally obtained. I was once young and I freely admit that I did similarly stupid things for video game consoles (back when I still had time to play games, prior to work consuming my very being in addition to my free time. I’ve essential fused to the walls of my hospital).
Its a form of ritual, like scarification rites or subjecting oneself to being bitten by ants to prove manliness. Just much, much, much lamer
Ok now that I can understand. I suppose it’s just that I expect the activities that result in a shared sense of camaraderie from joint suffering to have a little more dignity or seriousness or something. Ice, fire, mountaintops, forests full of wolves, the open ocean, a 50 mile walk. Standing in a queue in a big city to buy some makeup is an outright parody of all that. Much much lamer, as you say.
1. Decades ago, before ticket sales were moved to primarily online, people would line up at ticket outlets (venue box office, record stores) on the day tickets went on sale to get the best seats.
2. For general admission shows, people would line up early so they could get down in front. People may start talking as something to pass the time. There are a couple of bands that I use to go see regularly. There were other fans that I would see regularly at the shows. We would save each other’s spots, in line or in the venue, if someone went to a restroom or went to get drinks. If the concert was at a county fair, people would take turns saving spots and checking out the fair. And then there was the banding together against late-comers who would try to get down in front.
One of the bands would toss items (guitar picks, drumm sticks, towels, bags with the band’s logo) to audience members at the end of the show. Which brings up another thing to band together against: There were people who would try to steal an item from someone who caught it. There were cases of someone trying to pry open a kid’s closed hand to steal the guitar pick the band member placed in the kid’s hand.