Hong Kong's brash materialism is reminiscent of 1980s New York. But the Yuppie years produced an upper-class backlash - well, actually, more like a concurrent reaction - commonly referred to these days as 'voluntary simplicity', after a book by Duane Elgin, a former senior social scientist at Stanford Research Institute. Why are there no signs of consumer recoil among Hong Kong's brash elite? One reason is that even to think about giving up material comforts by choice, one has to feel pretty psychologically distant from the notion of losing them against one's will. Yearning for simplicity, to put it another way, is strictly for the pampered. An infamous example was Marie Antoinette, the wife of Louis XIV, who had absurdly ramshackle farm buildings put up in the grounds of the opulent Chateau de Versailles so that she and her favourites could dress up and play at being peasants. Similarly, the moneyed, post-Yuppie elite 'Bobos' like the idea of the non-materialistic ethos, but they lack the conviction to deprive themselves seriously. As David Brooks, who coined the term 'Bobo' (bourgeois bohemians), puts it, although a Bobo thinks of a Jacuzzi as an outdated symbol of Yuppie excess, he sees his US$20,000 slate-walled shower as a sign of his oneness with nature. Hong Kong Chinese, on the other hand, are inculcated with an unambivalent esteem for money and what it can buy. The conventional explanation for this is that material wealth has come to be regarded as one of the few reliable buffers against unpredictable misfortune, a long history of which has deeply marked the collective Chinese memory. There is another reason why a faux-hippy simplicity trend is unlikely to sweep through Central soon: the navel-contemplation necessary to voluntary simplicity's second tenet, personal growth, is culturally incompatible with the general run of Hong Kong Chinese thinking. Life's meaning, according to the voluntary simplicity ethos, comes from developing ones inner life - that is, individual fulfilment. Having made one's way up Maslow's famous pyramid of human needs, with basic nourishment and shelter towards the bottom, and relationships towards the middle, the ultimate goal is 'self-actualisation'. The locus of meaning and contentment in life for Hong Kong Chinese, on the other hand, is normally not the self but the network of mutual psychological support that family and close friends create for each other. The appeal of voluntary simplicity relates to a desire to return to the uncomplicated security of childhood. But simplicity, as Elgin conceived it, is as different from childlike simplicity as a Mozart sonata is from a classroom rendition of the singing alphabet. It is an 'antidote to introspection', as the philosopher Baruch Spinoza put it, an unlearning of attachments so that one does not have to rely quite so much on external resources. It is meditating versus shopping, if you like. At least Bobos' consumption habits show that they reflect on their own gluttony, you might say. That is true. But it is also true that a zebra-hide Versace handbag has none of the hypocritical pretension of an earth-tone Range Rover or organic dog food. One could even argue that, in many respects, the tai-tai is simpler than the Bobo. As philosopher Andre Comte-Sponville points out, the simple person sees no need to comment on, discuss or reflect on his or her actions. However, he also notes that the simple person is 'unconcerned with her image, her reputation; she doesn't calculate, has no secrets, and acts without guile, ulterior motives, agendas or plans'. That is a pretty tall order for any city dweller. Simplicity is not so simple after all. Jean Nicol is a psychologist specialising in issues of cultural identity and change in an era of globalisation