Virtually, anything's possible
I haven't worked out how to program a VCR yet (VCR - what's that? All hail i-Video) and now a whole society has evolved consisting of pixelated individuals called avatars - the alter egos of real human beings (if a computer nerd can be classified as such) -- who only exist within the frame of a computer screen (just as well; some of these creatures are pretty weird looking).
Yes... middle age is beckoning. I often look fondly at my three-year-old nephew -- who incidentally believes me to be 11 years old; in other words ancient -- and marvel that he can still be transfixed by something as basic as Thomas the Tank Engine in a world where Second Life is normal.
By the time he's in his early teens, tuning in to Second Life will be as everyday as watching an episode of Neighbours. As US retailer American Apparel knows, it pays to take the virtual world seriously. The LA-based tee-shirt giant opened its first Second Life store earlier this year, charging one US dollar an item, a bloody good bargain in anyone's book.
The company is also using Second Life to test market selected ranges before launching them to "real" retail and has already started hiring virtual sales assistants from Second Life's citizens. If anyone told you you were likely to encounter a creature with the head of a catfish and the body of a lion at the checkout of your local streetwear retailer you'd back away from them before breaking into a sprint, but in Second Life this is normal.
Naturally I'm sceptical about going there, although I might just might be persuaded if labels like Prada or Chloe opened up shop. Imagine being able to able to pick up a Paddington bag for $1! Sure, it would be some weird version of me - probably with the head of Lady Penelope and the body of The Little Mermaid -- that got to carry the thing around, but hey, I've been letting weird versions of myself roam the streets after Friday night drinks for years.
On second thoughts I'm not sure even Prada or Chloe could get me there. For one thing I'd just end up being jealous of my avatar for having a Chloe bag when I have to make do with Witchery or Mimco... this would essentially mean being jealous of myself, which would inevitably lead to psychotherapy. What's more, as it is I have trouble staying on top of one life without adding another to my portfolio. As for the Chloe bag, maybe a clever little shop in Melbourne has the answer. Love Me & Leave me provides a hire service for mere mortals of the non-pixelated kind, meaning for just $99, a real Paddington bag can be anyone's... for a week.