The New Luxury is not Wanting Anything

Nothing costs more than looking unimpressed.

There was a time when luxury meant acquisition—bigger closet, heavier logo, deeper wait-list. Now the real flex is indifference. The well-lit display of already having— and barely caring.

Why the shift? Too many drops, too many “it” things, too little silence. Desire became noisy; wanting looked needy. Enter a cooler currency: restraint. Not austerity—there’s still money in the room—but a visible boredom with options.

It shows up in wardrobes pared to six perfect pieces and homes styled like high-budget monasteries. It’s the dinner guest who studies the menu, then orders sparkling water. The point isn’t scarcity of means; it’s scarcity of appetite.

Brands try to package the mood—capsules in greige, campaigns whispering “timeless.” But true refusal can’t be merchandised. It’s behavioural: scrolling past the pre-order without flinching, deleting the cart instead of the cookies, letting a launch date arrive and expire untouched.

I’m exploring it in my own practice. How do you build objects that acknowledge abundance by opting out of it? Pieces that declare: I could have been louder, but silence suited me better. It’s design as self-control—a quiet monument to enough.

Maybe that’s the ultimate luxury now: the freedom to disengage from the chase. Not because the chase is over, but because you no longer need to keep pace. Indifference, it turns out, is expensive. And you can’t fake the price tag.