Fundamentals of Finances

Lately, I have been intrigued by the psychology behind luxury goods. When did it become normal to own a $5,000 bag or a $2,000 piece of jewelry?

One of my favorite malls has an abundance of luxury stores. I’ve witnessed people spend thousands and thousands of dollars in a single trip to this mall, and somehow, I found myself idolizing these people.

For years, I longed to be able to casually spend thousands of dollars on a bag or necklace. I used these items as goals and milestones, constantly dreaming of the day I could afford them.

One day, I asked myself: “What am I working towards?”

I realized I don’t actually want that bag or that necklace. What I’ve always wanted is to be financially free, to own a home, and to never have to worry about how I’m going to afford food or monthly payments.

Why would I make all these sacrifices today—like working 40 hours a week or skipping vacations—for a piece of jewelry?

That’s when I really began to reflect on what it was about designer goods that had such a strong hold on me.

I realized I was craving the status and the idea of “luxury.”

Through social media and societal reactions, we’ve been conditioned to think that if we own designer goods, we’ll be noticed by more people, perceived as “better,” and somehow gain access to the world of the 1%.

It’s almost like an invitation to experience the comfort and bliss of millionaires, without actually having to work and sacrifice years to obtain those millions.

Another way I found myself rationalizing designer goods was through the idea of “quality.”

When comparing a designer item to its generic counterpart, I often found myself thinking, “The designer version must be better quality.”

Somehow, we’ve come to associate the “luxury” label with “better,” “stronger,” and “higher quality,” when in reality, luxury simply means more extravagant.

Luxury items don’t have to come with such a high price tag. The appeal of luxury is based entirely on how we perceive what we’re using.

This perception of luxury even extends to simpler items. For example, look at the supplement industry.

Of course, there are the tried-and-true supplements—white pills that come in plain, opaque bottles and simply state what they are.

Yet somehow, we’ve been convinced that these original supplements are inferior to newer brands with colorful bottles, witty names, and extravagantly shaped gummies.

No one had an issue with the way supplements originally performed, but suddenly, these trendy versions are seen as “magic” and claim to “work wonders.”

In reality, these higher-priced supplements are only perceived as better because they’re luxe or flashy.

If you truly think you’re doing your body a favor by consuming sugary supplements with lower concentrations of vitamins, I’d suggest just buying regular supplements and putting them in a pretty bottle. You’ll save yourself tons of money—and the prettier the bottle, the “better” they’ll work (at least in your mind).

What I’m trying to say is: you won’t be happier with a product because of its price. You won’t magically have a better life, and opportunities won’t just appear.

When you step back and realize how much control designer brands have over us, you free yourself—and get one step closer to reaching your true goals in life.