Why do we make fun of celebrities who travel in economy?

In recent weeks, several celebrities have been photographed during commercial flights, seated among ordinary people, sometimes even in the middle of a nap. The first recent case was Kanye West and Bianca Censori who, around mid-June, were filmed by someone named Brandon Doggett, who erroneously wrote that they were flying in economy class. As can be seen from the same video, and as confirmed later by a flight attendant on the same flight, they were actually flying in business class – not that it makes much difference. What was Kanye West, in an outfit that seemed straight out of fashion week street style, doing sitting among common folks? Last week something similar happened to Jennifer Lopez, photographed while taking a flight from Naples to Paris, first ridiculed and then defended on the Internet for a responsible choice. Finally, on Sunday, it was Rafael Nadal's turn, photographed on a short flight from Mallorca to Barcelona, and posted in a tweet that reached 2.5 million views but this time with users remembering the notorious frugality of the tennis champion, the goodness of his choice but also the fact that the flight lasts maybe thirty minutes. Nevertheless, seeing the usual jesters photographing and publicly mocking these celebrities, it’s understandable why they often prefer private flights. But why are these posts so appealing to us?

An interesting perspective on the situation is that of financial resentment: the sadistic joy when seeing a privileged person doing something ordinary. When it was Kanye’s case, various outlets immediately focused on the money aspect. "After losing billionaire status" is the most frequent preamble to highlight this perceived humiliation, even though Kanye not only showed up at the airport with bodyguards and staff but is known for having used commercial flights in the past. When the news involved Jennifer Lopez (who, by the way, did not just board the plane but booked three seats with a bodyguard occupying the aisle seat), TMZ jumped at the opportunity, saying that the star was trying to "seem more down-to-earth amid marital problems with Ben Affleck" while The Cut declared "recession alert." This is also a case of scavenging, given that Jennifer Lopez is not going through a professionally happy period, with historical revisionists accusing her of having "stolen" historical chart-topping hits, her tour canceled due to low ticket sales, and her films on Prime and Netflix not achieving the expected success; and the decision to fly among mortals is seen, at best, as an attempt to gain public favor (like superstars occasionally working as cashiers for two hours) and, at worst, as an indicator of imminent financial ruin.

A frequent comment in these cases is from those who say that, having the money, they would never fly normally: as if to say that the same privilege we reproach others for would seem less wrong if it were ours. For many, environmentalism and waste are just hypocritical excuses to manifest not disapproval but envy: the person is criticized because we are not in their place, but if they are in our place, they are mocked. A textbook case of self-loathing. After all, isn't the entire Internet plastered with memes about Taylor Swift taking flights even to avoid forty minutes of driving? And didn’t it seem odious when Kim Kardashian flew to Paris to eat the Hotel Costes cheesecake? Isn't there an American guy, Jack Sweeney, who tracks Elon Musk's private flights, even earning a Wikipedia page for his efforts? Not to mention the Jenner sisters and the Celebrity Private Jet Tracker which offers details on the movements of almost everyone, from Donald Trump to Beyoncé? And isn’t a criminal and cultural villain like Jeffrey Epstein also recognized as such thanks to his wealth, islands, and private jets? So much so that the hottest top-secret document of our days is precisely the list of passengers who took the private flight to his infamous island, almost a document that can reveal the true nature of these characters who invade every moment of our lives, devouring our attention.

The truth is probably that we have come to perceive celebrities as inhabitants of a separate world, a topography of the rich (think of the Los Angeles triad of Erewhon, Sushi Park, and Forma Pilates) superimposed on our world and unable to communicate with it, a stage whose fourth wall must never be broken. The price of this privilege is public exposure to ridicule, but if we care so much about these people, it's because of the illusion of having a relationship with them, the mistaken perception that they are a majority: the constant spectacle of others' wealth, the privileges enjoyed in a world that instead seems increasingly distressing and dystopian can only cause an equally morbid interest and desire for revenge. The problem is that in the whirlwind of reposts and reels, we lose sight of the idea that the scene captured by the camera is not from a set but from real life, these people are not made of pixels on a screen but of flesh and blood, and behind the costumes, fashion week appearances, and listening experiences, even Kanye can appear lost at the gate entrance and sprawl out sleeping on a plane - and it is this normality that we cannot forgive him. How dare these celebrities, after selling us the dream, be just like us?