This article explores how extravagantly visible mask-wearing relates with consumer culture. Methodologically, three purposively chosen case studies of spectacular or performative mask-wearing are used to show what the face mask can teach us about consumer culture in a pandemic. First, a (UK) article in which an 'elderly shopper' is shamed for wearing a sanitary towel as a face mask is used to explore the politics of disposable commodities. Second, the multiplying portraits of people wearing masks archived under Instagram's #MaskSelfie hashtag allows an examination of how consumer-citizenship is performed. Third, the presence of extremely expensive luxury designer masks, as evidenced by Rich Mnisi's Swarovski-encrusted offering, is a base for considering how virtue signalling has become a platform for luxury branding. Building on these three examples, the argument is made that waste, selfies and luxury are modalities for a pandemic commodity politics that is layered over and into the scientific citizenship signalled by the wearing of face masks. Together these create what I call a 'sci-commodity' sensibility, in which the face mask as a technology has become integrated with the modalities of consumption. This has resonance with ongoing debates about the object, subject and brand in consumer culture.

The coronavirus disease (COVID-19) pandemic continues to present unique challenges to governments and organisations around the world, but one sector has incorporated COVID-19 into its core mission with relative ease: advertisers have acknowledged the pandemic while continuing to draw on notions of 'normality' to activate our desire to consume. As the UK's series of lockdowns have come to an end, we look back over more than a year of unusual advertising and consider how the pandemic has changed approaches to marketing and the shape of consumer culture in ways connected to ideas about what constitutes 'normal' life. Discussions of the relationship between the pandemic and consumerism have included critiques of the prioritising of profit over people, and conceptualisations of Coronavirus as a brand itself, but the politics of notions of 'normality' promoted by consumer culture demand closer consideration. This article complements existing studies and debates by examining the tensions, contradictions and morally neutral positions revealed by the advertising response to the coronavirus disease pandemic. Through an analysis of UK advertising campaigns launched during and with reference to the pandemic, this work explores key themes and strategies, including their connection to power dynamics concerning race, gender, class and capitalism. We suggest advertising during crises may offer the opportunity to critique larger dynamics and trends of consumerism, including narrow notions of the defining features of 'everyday' life.

This article provide some coordinates that help explain why cryptocurrencies have recently become mainstream, indicating their connection to precarisation and new class formations. It considers how this change has been achieved by examining the impact of ICTs (information and communications technologies) on the process of socialisation and re-signification of finance. Finally, it explores how these shifts might be related to the emergence of a peculiar form of digital and cultural commons. It grants that this last idea might appear odd, far-fetched, or downright inappropriate, since investment by individuals for individual profit is a defining characteristic of the realm of crypto-finance. It hopes to show, however, that what lies behind these individualised actions is an ambivalence in which exploitation coexists with a redefinition of the genetic code of finance, giving rise to a shared culture and a commoning of resources.

Almost since its inception, punk has been declared dead. What does it mean to live attached to something that is always, at least a little bit, gone? Examining how Justin Pearson merges personal accounts of death and mourning with a sense of punk that is rooted in loss in his memoir of his participation in a North American punk culture since the 1990s, , this article considers how a focus on living in the wake of the death of punk might shift scholarly and popular narratives told about punk. Punk outlives its death in the 1970s with a redemptive rebirth in which it became the subject of an anti-capitalist narrative. The article considers how Pearson's memoir explores a different framework by insisting that punk may not be able to separate itself from the wider world, and that while this might appear to deal a death blow to punk, it also names a persistent set of conditions that define punk. After placing the memoir in the context of this redemptive account of punk as well as among those who see its limits, the article offers an analysis of several scenes addressing personal losses that merge with Pearson's attachment to punk-as-something-dead-and-gone. The deaths that Pearson associates with punk rock are personal, but they also register the larger significance of loss for a subculture that cannot stop declaring its own demise, including especially the loss of a fantasy that sees punk as a refuge from the world.

This article draws on over 60 interviews and 120 surveys with indie game developers to illustrate relational labour and entrepreneurship practices in cultural industries and their relationship to 'good work'. We first outline the changing organization of games work, the shift towards so-called indie production, and the associated rejection of creatively constrained, hierarchically managed production models. In the move towards small-scale games making, indies jettisoned producers because producers represented industry modes of work, values and creative constraints. But indies are now struggling to manage production processes without producers. We use developer narratives to highlight how this 'missing producer' work is redistributed in the form of cultural entrepreneurship, cultural intermediation and relational labour. This relational labour simultaneously supports and undermines sustainable production practices, as developers take on impossible workloads associated with networking and connecting with others. We next illustrate how the inherent valorization of growth and expansion in cultural entrepreneurship discourses may force developers to mimic industry practices and organization in order to find funding, but these practices inherently conflict with their desire to focus on making games as small, sustainable and creatively autonomous teams. Ultimately, we want to demonstrate how interviews and time spent with indie developers help us account for otherwise invisible and ambiguous cultural labour practices and discourses, thus allowing us to make sense of the larger context of cultural production and its possible futures.