The first time I heard the phrase “just popping to New York for lunch” it was Edina saying it to Patsy on Ab Fab. It was meant to be absurd.
I heard it again last week. Except this time, it wasn’t a joke. It was a 21-year-old on TikTok, pausing mid-Birkin shuffle to inform her followers of her afternoon plans, as casually as you or I might mention popping to Fortnum’s for biscuits.
This is Richtok, it’s what happens when money forgets it’s supposed to behave.
They’re not trying to impress anyone. It’s Through the Keyhole, Gen Z edition. Who lives in a house like this?
This is loud luxury, but not the Versace-shirt, nightclub-rope version. It’s a Dior fridge, a Moncler coat for the dog, and a driver named Philippe.
And the odd part of it all is that people are obsessed. They're watching, not because of admiration I’d hazard, but because it’s like watching a nature documentary. You don’t relate, but you’re fascinated nonetheless. The Ferrari collection. The Dior walk-in fridge. The casual disposal of objects worth more than a house.
What’s changed isn’t the money. It’s the performance. The previous generation of wealth hid it, because hiding it was the signal. Subtlety was currency. Their parents whispered, “never let them see the watch.” Their children livestream the unboxing. It’s not just showmanship, it’s social proof, and in this circle, conspicuous nonchalance is the new gold leaf.
Luxury brands spent a decade fetishising craftsmanship, teaching staff to recite the stitching process like a Gregorian chant. Meanwhile, their clients were quietly rewiring. Thanks to social media, visibility became the signal. Not the detail, the display. Not the provenance, the proof. And now, the girl with the black Amex wants it in pink, tomorrow, and monogrammed for the plane.
Loud luxury is making a comeback. And it's not just loud, it's bloody deafening.
