There’s a lovely modern myth that people buy luxury for pleasure. They don’t, they buy to feel better. Which, when you really think about it, is an entirely different thing.
We’ve accidentally or otherwise, turned luxury consumption into a form of self-medication. The handbag isn’t just leather and stitching; it’s emotional anaesthetic. The expensive perfume is liquid reassurance, and the credit card statement? Well, that’s the hangover.
What fascinates me is how elegantly the industry has learned to dress therapy up as retail. “Because you’re worth it,” says L’Oréal, as if they’re your counsellor rather than your skincare expert. “Self-esteem starts with DOve,” purrs Dove, offering absolution with shower. We’ve taken the vocabulary of healing and replaced reflection with transaction.
It’s not manipulation, of course, just well-informed empathy. The shopper feels low, the brand says “we see you,” and voilà: oxytocin you can buy with your Amex. It’s classical conditioning really.
I think the thing is though, the dopamine isn’t in the thing. It’s in the chase and the anticipation, even in the parcel tracking. The little jolt when the DPD driver is only 8 stops away. The brain doesn’t crave the product, it craves the pursuit, which is why unboxing videos have become the modern equivalent of Babylon.
Digital shopping has made this beautifully efficient. Once upon a time you had to get dressed, drive somewhere, and look a salesperson in the eye before performing your emotional exorcism. Now the cure for existential dread is one click away, and the algorithm remembers your triggers better than your therapist ever could.
And yet, it works. For a while anyway. Because what luxury really sells isn’t reward, it’s regulation. Control. A fleeting sense that everything’s fine now. Until, of course, it isn’t.
So the next time someone claims luxury is about craftsmanship or heritage, smile politely. Those matter, yes, but they’re the respectable face of a far older trade: selling comfort to the anxious.
If we’re honest, luxury isn’t therapy, it’s a live theatre performance. And the standing ovation lasts right up until the statement arrives.
Chat to you next week.
Paul
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