Why Is Luxury So Boring?
Why is luxury so boring? This question occurs to me whenever I pass a duty-free shop or walk down the P.C. Hooftstraat, Amsterdam’s luxury shopping street. I once spent a day in a client store there and came away with only one memorable observation which was the word STULTIFYING written in capital letters across the top of the page. Despite the very occasional customer and the ever-present scent of finished leather (the signature base note of all luxury retail scentology), it felt airless and uninhabited, like the vacant stare of luxury models who always look as though they’ve been beaten on the head with a mallet then asked to mentally calculate the cube root of an 8-digit number.
Unlike its cousin, fashion, which regularly indulges in high/low visual incongruities in order to titillate if not actually interest, luxury tends to just sit there, with the same product detail shots and mallet-stunned models inhabiting the same empty-ish space. Of course, interest lies in the eye of the beholder and I am a fairly curmudgeonly beholder, but luxury seems to be making a determined effort to be static and to depict stasis. Behind the desultory, borrowed interest of the latest ‘street collab’ yawns an endless ecru cyclorama smelling vaguely of leather and linen.
PC Hooftstraat lies just inside Zuid (South), the wealthiest part of the city (https://lnkd.in/df5RaJks). But while I avoid the PC Hooftstraat whenever possible, I have always been secretly attracted to the quiet, leafy, monied, residential side of Zuid, with its heavy oak doors leading through a series of dark, never-remodeled rooms to unsuspected and overgrown walled gardens designed (I imagine) for sipping jenever and re-reading favorite books, forever.
And as I stand at the intersection of PC Hooftstraat and Van Baerlestraat, between the public and private sides of Zuid, I’m struck by how closely related timelessness and boredom are. Maybe that’s the point of luxury. Boredom isn’t a bug, but a feature. What you’re buying is timelessness, a sign of immortality. Men (and I do mean, *men*) have always thrown money at immortality once they had enough to eat. But as everyone who has thought seriously about the possibility of eternal life has told us, from the Greeks to the Canadians (https://lnkd.in/dxwnGNzJ), immortality looks beautiful, but it will bore you to madness.

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