Trump’s pitch: His gilded glamour

Trump’s pitch: His gilded glamour
Stars and Stripes
By Virginia Postrel
Special to The Washington Post
March 20, 2016

Why would anyone vote for Donald Trump? One popular theory holds that his supporters are bigots angered by America’s changing racial mix. Another is that they’re salt-of-the-earth working folks left behind by the loss of manufacturing jobs, alienated from the moneyed ruling class and irritated by the tyranny of political correctness. Or some combination thereof.

These theories, which contain elements of truth, emphasize Trump’s dire assessment of present-day America and his followers’ discontent. They focus on negative sentiment. But an important part of the story is Trump’s positive allure — the way the candidate taps into, and projects, the most fundamental outlines of the American Dream.

Conventional explanations miss the glamour of Trump’s message.

The word "glamour" originally meant a literal magic spell that makes people see things differently than they are. Understood correctly, glamour is not a particular style — different styles seem glamorous to different people — but, like humor, a form of communication that creates a specific emotional response. Glamour generates a feeling of projection and longing: "if only." If only I could walk that red carpet, drive that car, wear that dress, belong to that group, have that job, be (or be with) that person … if only I could have that life.

The feeling is universal, but the manifestation is particular: One person’s glamorous vacation may be a busy trip to Paris, while another dreams of the solitude of a mountain cabin. What you find glamorous depends on who you are — and who you yearn to be.

To tastemakers and TED talkers, Trump may seem impossibly vulgar, with his braggadocio, teased hair and preference for well-done steaks. But one definition of "vulgar" is "of or relating to the common people," and a lot of folks find Trump their kind of tycoon: a totem of success in whom they can imagine their ideal selves. "Trump is the big time, the bright lights, the fancy everything, and wealth and fame and all things I am not but would like to be," said supporter Michael Stuart Kelly, who runs an Internet marketing company. Kelly believes that the candidate appeals to "good, intelligent, productive people who dream big, even when they can’t live it." Unlike moguls who inspire resentment, Trump encourages his audience to imagine sharing his success.

Even more than fashion and film, the real estate and travel industries — where Trump has made most of his money — employ glamour as a tool of persuasion and sales. With carefully crafted words and imagery, marketers invite customers to project themselves into a different, better setting and, through it, a different, better life. Stay in a Trump hotel, the corporate website promises, and you won’t just get a nice room and good service. You’ll enjoy "a lifestyle where you can do more, experience more and live life without boundaries, limits or compromise." Glamour is much more than luxury. It promises transformation.

In this way, Trump combines powerful charisma, which draws audiences to enlist in his cause, with the glamorous salesmanship of a real estate brochure. At times the appeal is so explicit, it’s meta: "We need somebody that can take the brand of the United States and make it great again," he said in announcing his candidacy.

His branding efforts permeate everything he says, with his repetition on the campaign trail of certain words: "win," "respect," "strong," "powerful," "rich," "leader" and, of course, "build." The right words can cast a spell, even if they don’t really make sense. "We are going to do something so good and so fast and so strong, and the world is going to respect us again, believe me," Trump told supporters after his win in New Hampshire, letting them fill in the blanks with their own desires. (It’s a trick well-honed during his business career. He once asked a vendor: "What should I call my next project? Celestia? Empyrean? Royal Imperial Regal?")

Like all forms of glamour, this salesmanship transmits an artificial sense of grace. It conceals effort, costs, difficulties and flaws: the constant maintenance that keeps the golf course pristine, the wear from real-life traffic on the white rug, the sand in the bathing suit, the jet lag, the family squabbles. Like the performance of a magic trick, glamour relies on the suspension of disbelief.

On the campaign trail, the candidate portrays himself as a maker. "Who can build better than Trump? I build; it’s what I do," he said, defending the practicality of his proposed border wall. For his supporters, the attraction is not just the possibility that the wall will be built but the belief that their candidate is a doer, someone whose abilities transcend the quotidian and inadequate skills of the political class currently in power. The builder image carefully omits the fact that these days, Trump doesn’t make his money by erecting new high-rises or resorts. Instead, he’s turned himself into what branding consultant Robert Passikoff calls "a human brand extraordinaire." He licenses his name to other developers as a lifestyle promise, which turns out to add significant value. Read more