De Lux

I'm always tickled to read of things -- like apartments, cars, hotel rooms -- which are advertised as being 'luxurious', 'deluxe', and all of that, because we've grown to understand that those are, in general, meaningless words. They may mean that there is a difference between whats being sold and what else is available, but they don't mean 'luxury' in the traditional sense. A luxurious hotel room has a television - with a remote control! A luxurious car has separate controls for the passenger and driver heat! A luxurious apartment has indoor plumbing with its own water heater! They're nice, they're better than not, but they aren't sybaritic luxury, which is what I think of when I think of that.

An example: we will occasionally stay at the Four Seasons or Ritz Carlton hotel chains, which are fairly upscale lodgings. (Much less, now that we are With Child.) When we first would go, about twenty years ago, they were luxurious, period -- and on the rare occasions when we'd pay the extra freight to stay on the Concierge Floor, we'd be amazed at the comfortable chairs, elegant lighting, lavish food available any time we chose to enter the lounge. Over time, two things happened. First, what we took for luxury became normal to us. Three hundred count sheets? Yes, that's nice (and it was certainly nicer than what we had at home), but it's nothing special. It was just expected. Second, the hotel started dropping what they'd put out there -- the food which was once available all day was now available only when the attendant put it out -- and the attendant, who used to be there all day, now was there only at prime hours. When it was there, the food was still good, but it was clear; the hotel was downsizing what it considered to be 'luxury'. (Though they still did charge the big charges, and then some!) The image was still there; the substance, not as much.

It was therefore with some interest that I read an article on the Knowledge@Wharton site on the history of 'luxury'. It's a fascinating writeup, and ties in quite nicely to an article in the Sunday papers (The Washington Post, I think, though it could be the New York Times) on how the purveyors of high-end items are finding it harder to sell the six hundred dollar Coach handbag, the two thousand dollar Burberry trench coat. It's not that people don't still lust after them; its that they are at the point where they are beginning to realize that they can't afford them. There are still plenty of people who can, and even more who are willing to delude themselves that they can -- but now, not quite as many as there used to be.

And you know? I think that's a good thing.