I ask Grok: “What would Tom Wolfe, born in 1930, at the height of his powers, observe about status markers and status striving in America today?”
Grok says:
Tom Wolfe, the sharp-eyed chronicler of American social hierarchies, would likely find today’s status markers both familiar and bewilderingly evolved. At his peak—say, the 1970s or ‘80s, when he dissected everything from radical chic to astronaut bravado—he’d notice that the old trappings of class ( pedigree, tailored suits, Ivy League pedigrees) have been scrambled by new forces: tech wealth, digital clout, and a performative egalitarianism that masks cutthroat ambition.
He’d probably zero in on the smartphone as the ultimate status totem—not just its brand (though an iPhone 15 Pro Max in titanium screams louder than a battered Android), but how it’s wielded. The Instagram flex of a “candid” private-jet shot or a TikTok dance from a minimalist $10 million loft signals wealth without the gauche old-money stench of a Rolls-Royce. Wolfe would see the shift from physical trophies to curated online personas—your follower count, your X blue check, your ability to “go viral”—as the new currency of prestige. The hedge fund titan in Patagonia fleece isn’t slumming it; he’s signaling he’s above needing to signal.
He’d likely marvel at the paradox of “authenticity” as a status game. The tech bro fasting for 72 hours or the influencer hawking $40 organic candles—both are chasing clout by pretending not to chase it. Wolfe would spot the high-low mashup too: billionaires in hoodies dining at hole-in-the-wall taco joints, not because they’re humble, but because obscurity is the new exclusivity. Meanwhile, the middle class scrambles for Pelotons and Tesla leases, aping the elite’s casual excess.
Striving, though? It’s fiercer than ever. Wolfe would see the gig economy hustle—Uber drivers, DoorDashers, OnlyFans creators—as a raw, Darwinian scramble dressed up as “freedom.” The old ladder’s gone; now it’s a greased pole. He’d probably write a biting scene: a Stanford dropout in a San Francisco co-living space, guzzling Soylent, pitching his AI startup to VCs on Zoom, all while tweeting about “disrupting the paradigm”—a modern Willy Loman with better Wi-Fi.
Wolfe’s eye for detail would catch the linguistic tics too: “founder,” “thought leader,” “impact”—words that inflate egos while dodging the stink of naked ambition. He’d see America’s status obsession hasn’t faded; it’s just gone fractal, splintered across a million screens, each a tiny stage for the same old human comedy.
