Luxury brands get personalisation wrong.

Algorithms mistake coincidence for obsession. In truth, most luxury purchases are gloriously irrational one-offs.

The whole idea of ‘personalisation’ in luxury is like receiving a Christmas card from HMRC.

A strange stab at intimacy from an institution that should never be intimate with anyone. “Dear valued taxpayer, we’re thinking of you.” Please don’t.

Luxury brands pull the same trick. Buy one scarf and suddenly you’re profiled as some lunatic magpie of cashmere. Algorithms mistake coincidence for obsession. In truth, most luxury purchases are gloriously irrational one-offs.

I once bought a pair of handmade shoes, tried them on, decided the toes were too pointy, and never wore them again. That doesn’t make me a shoe fetishist. That makes me a man traumatised by pointy toes.

The problem is algorithms only ever know what you did, never why. It’s like studying British drinking habits by counting empty pint glasses. You’ll find Stella very popular.

What you won’t see is that most people only ordered it because the chap next to them had one. That’s social proof, not taste.

Real personalisation is basically gossip.

My grandmother refused to drink champagne from coupes because she swore they were modelled on Marie Antoinette’s breast. My grandfather couldn’t wear navy because it reminded him of prep-school bullies. Try coding that into an algorithm.

The best personalisation is often its opposite. Not showing you more of what you bought, but knowing what to leave out.

The discreet client is never shown the wall of logo bags. The traditionalist is spared the neon trainers. The personal touch lies in what is quietly withheld.

But brands persist. “Because you bought a belt…” Yes, thank you, I’m aware. No, I don’t need trousers.

What they call personalisation is rarely more than clumsy repetition, the digital equivalent of a needy sales associate firing off endless messages and emails.

Which is why most brands’ idea of personalisation feels less like service and more a drunk man following you home shouting your name.