Does the general public tend to equate novelty with quality? So argues Charles L. Eastlake, the architect and author of one of our guides, Hints on Household Taste (1878). He contends that modern designs and materials are often inferior to those of the past, despite being perceived as fashionable or innovative, and laments the decline in craftsmanship, noting that textiles, metals, and woodworking have all suffered in quality compared to previous generations. The push for cheaper, mass-produced goods and competition in pricing, he says, has led to a decline in both artistic design and durability in manufactured items.
The consumer culture of the 21st century still prioritizes “new” over “well-made,” and that has led to a flood of disposable, low-quality products. Eastlake’s critique of declining craftsmanship mirrors today’s concerns about fast fashion, planned obsolescence, and the loss of traditional skills. The pressure for affordability perpetuates this cycle, of course, as businesses prioritize cost-cutting over lasting quality. As evidenced with this guide, there has long been a tension between perceived innovation and actual value, a struggle that continues to shape our purchasing habits and the overall quality of manufactured goods.
Planned obsolescence, in particular, is a business strategy in which products are deliberately designed to degrade or become outdated over time, compelling consumers to replace them and therefore boost sales and profits. Eastlake describes the impact of this type of phenomenon like so:
It is hardly necessary to say that the general public did not recognise this fact [that there has been a decline in real beauty]. In the eyes of Mater-familias, there was no upholstery which could possibly surpass that which the most fashionable upholsterer supplied. She believed in the elegance of window-curtains, of which so many dozen yards had been sent to the Duchess of –-, and concluded that the dinner-service must be perfect which was described as ‘quite a novelty.’
When did people first adopt the monstrous notion that the ‘last pattern out’ must be the best? Is good taste so rapidly progressive that every mug which leaves the potter's hands surpasses in shape the last which he moulded? Far from this, it is to be feared that, instead of progressing, we have, for some ages at least, gone hopelessly backward in the arts of manufacture. And this is true not only with respect to the character of design, but often in regard to the actual quality of material employed.
It is generally admitted by every housewife who has attained a matronly age, that linen, silk, and other articles of textile fabric, though less expensive than formerly, are far inferior to what was made in the days of our grand-fathers. Metal-workers tell us that it is almost impossible to procure, for the purpose of their trade, brass such as appears to have been in common use a century ago. Joinery is neither so sound nor so artistic as it was in the early Georgian era. A cheap and easy method of workmanship--an endeavour to produce a show of finish with the least possible labour, and, above all, an unhealthy spirit of competition in regard to price, such as was unknown to previous generations--have combined to deteriorate the value of our ordinary mechanics' work.