Young Americans have this silly coming-of-age tradition; at around 18 years old they move out of their parents’ homes and rent cheap and completely bare apartments in bad neighborhoods and then blow their cash on crappy furniture and chintzy interior appointments.
Living around the world, I’ve learned that other cultures do this more sensibly; young people move out in their mid-twenties when they are more advanced in their careers or when they get married, and they often move into furnished apartments with roommates.
The experience of glowing with pride, sitting alone, in your new-to-you (yet funny-smelling) little apartment surrounded by a bunch of newly bought, cheap plastic stuff from Walmart is, as far as I can tell, a uniquely American one.
Many young Americans splurge disproportionate amounts of their income and savings on toys to show off to their friends who come over to their one-bedroom kingdoms; big-screen TVs, ridiculously overpowered stereo systems, guns, and massive collections of bottles of alcohol. And like so many male mammals, a young Jonathan Roseland was intent on converting his bedroom, in his tiny abode, into the ultimate seduction chamber…