I remember the first time I went into an upscale clothing store.
I was 14 and had been dropped off at a shopping center in Florida while my dad went off to do whatever it was that busy single bachelors his age did during the day.
On this particular day, I passed the time doing everything I normally did at a mall: I smelled all the perfumes in Macy’s, had a snack at the food court, and wondered if I could pass for being old enough to get another ear piercing without an adult’s permission.
After ultimately deciding there was no way my baby face could pass for being older, I decided to instead spend my last hour exploring a different wing of this huge commercial center.
Unbeknownst to me, I was only a short escalator ride away from discovering what would become my lifelong passion for all things high-end.
Hoping for the High-End
“Cartier…,” I read aloud from the names plastered over many glittering storefronts. “Fendi…Jimmy Choo…Louis Vuitton.”
I’d definitely ventured into unfamiliar territory because of all of those names, Louis Vuitton was the only one I was remotely familiar with. I mean, how could I not be? Its Damier print was everywhere at that time and it was commonplace to see women sporting a variety of LV bags, both real and fake.
Still, I needed to know what all the fuss was about.
Moments later, I headed over and saw how the spotless 10-foot mirrors, gold-trimmed walls, and counters made of mahogany decorated the area. I watched as some women happily perused the racks while others sat with champagne in hand debating whether or not open-toed pumps would be appropriate for whatever function they needed to go to.
To me, this entire place felt like a dream.
Not because I was overly interested in fashion, but because it was glamorous and captivating and its overt display of opulence made such a strong impression on me that I began to wonder when – and how – I could become one of those women who got to experience this type of dreamy magic on a regular basis.
Ultimately, this trip to the mall would only be a small teaser for the luxuries I would eventually get to enjoy: meals at upscale restaurants, Parisian shopping sprees, and trips to the Caribbean in the middle of winter.
All quite the experiences indeed. But something I’ve realized I still haven’t encountered, however, is a true understanding from others about what it means to follow your dreams, even when they aren’t the most humble.
The Cost of Living A Luxury Lifestyle
“Who do you think you are?”
“Who do you think you are?” – Ah yes, the dreaded phrase I’ve become more and more disillusioned with.
It’s usually said in a humorous tone by those closest to me, but there have been others who deem my personal tastes and preferences as reason enough to make negative assessments about my character as a whole.
They say I’m a brat, I’m entitled, I’m bougie, and my standards are too high.
Gracious words they are not, and neither do I feel they even appropriately describe me and others like myself who have “expensive taste” and prefer to incorporate luxury into our everyday lives.
It’s really not true.
I prefer to think of myself and others like me as luxury enthusiasts. We appreciate ‘high-end’ and are excited about being a part of a world that many will never see.
This doesn’t mean we don’t enjoy humble gatherings and homecooked meals, but that living a little more luxuriously is also important to us. Being able to live a life of relative ease and comfort personally does wonders for my self-confidence while also helping me be more present in my relationships with others. Something I’m sure other enthusiasts can also attest to.
Our love of gourmet foods, high-quality clothes, and rooms with a view don’t say anything about us other than that we have a healthy level of respect for goods and services distinguished enough to be ranked above others in its class.
Our cashmere sweaters don’t speak for us, but they do keep us warmer and more comfortable than those made of a polyester blend.
Sometimes a cold glass of Chardonnay just hits the spot when tap water cannot.
Living in Luxury, Without the Shame
It’s my opinion that we shouldn’t need to come up with an explanation for pursuing what makes us feel like a million bucks. And our collective dreams of abundance and good fortune shouldn’t be a source of shame. So why are we made to feel like it is?
My guess is that too many others, even those who have the financial means, struggle with feeling worthy of these things/experiences for themselves and thus show their uneasiness about it all by trying to knock us aficionados down a peg.
Instead of finding ways to spoil themselves with whatever makes them feel radiant, it’s easier to dismiss others’ dreams of luxury and grandeur as unreasonable, out of touch, and immature.
Of course, we all must deal with boring day-to-day demands, but some of us aren’t fulfilled by the push to constantly work more, be more, and do more with little regard for leisure time and our need for a little (or a lot) of pampering and recreation
What is so shameful about living a life you’re infatuated with? ﹘ one that’s filled with beauty and art and extravagance.
Nothing. That’s what.
So please, the next time your affinity for the finer things is equated with being materialistic or your high-end expenditures are taken to mean you’re bad with money, just shake it off and remember that your champagne dreams are not the cause for another feeling so disgruntled about their reality.
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