I was on vacation in Paris. It was my first two-week stay there and my first visit while speaking French at a reasonable (if modest) level.

It was my last afternoon in the city and I remembered there was a winter scarf from a shop that I had seen online and wanted to look for before I left.

As context, at the time, I was at a B1 level of French. I’ll explain more about levels below, but essentially, what I mean is that I was conversational at a basic level, able to handle many or even most situations while traveling.

It was a short walk to the store and I quickly found myself there, explaining in French what I was looking for. I’m sure the salesperson spoke English, but over the course of the two weeks, I had grown more confident in my French, and wanted to use it more often, so I took the opportunity when I could. Often, people would just instantly respond in English, which was typically excellent, and that would sometimes lead to us speaking “Franglais”, mixing French and English back and forth. But in this case, the salesperson stuck to French as he tracked down the scarf I was looking for.

As we were walking to the register so I could pay, he asked me in French where I was from. I replied in French, “You really don’t know?” He replied that no, he didn’t, but if he had to guess, he would say somewhere French-speaking, but not France.

He couldn’t have done more for my ego if he had told me I looked like a famous movie star. And I suspect that played at least a small role in my deciding that my vacation the following year would be to return to Paris for another two weeks.

Did my vacation or my shopping experiences depend on my knowledge of French? No. I believe that I would have had a wonderful time no matter what. Did my knowledge of French enrich my time in Paris? Yes. Do I believe that learning French, Italian, or another appropriate language could improve others’ luxury experiences when traveling? Yes, and I’ll dive into the why and the how below.

Let’s start with some basics. Up first is levels of language learning.

If it has been a while since you took a language course, this might be new to you, but these days, the world is converging on a standard for describing, measuring, and talking about levels of language proficiency. It’s called the Common European Framework of Reference for Languages, or CEFR. CEFR defines six levels of language proficiency, from basic (A) to independent (B) to proficient (C): A1, A2, B1, B2, C1, and C2.

There’s an official guide to the levels, but I prefer how the people at Duolingo explain it:

I titled this article “The B1+ lifestyle” because at the B1 level or higher, a few things change:

At B1, you can have a conversation, and a rewarding one at that. At B2, you can remain in the conversation through abstraction, humor, detail, tact, and more.

Assuming that you already speak English, and you have an interest in luxury, the next most useful language for you is going to probably be French or Italian. That’s not an absolute rule. For example, if you’re a fan of deutsche Premiumhersteller—the premium automakers that include Audi, BMW, Mercedes, and Porsche, or even the entire culture around buying, owning, and driving fast cars fast—you’d gravitate towards German. If you enjoy luxury hospitality in the tradition of Japan—ryokan, kaiseki, ceremonies, and the like—then Japanese would be your choice.

You might also have an extremely specialized—even company-specific—interest that leads you down a specific path. For example, you might be a huge fan of camera maker Leica, luggage maker RIMOWA, or writing instrument maker Montblanc, and want to immerse yourself in one of those specific companies and their products. In any of those cases, you’d want to learn German.

But for most luxury enthusiasts, it’ll be French or Italian. Which you choose depends on your interests:

French: women’s fashion, fragrance, gastronomy, wine, hospitality, timepieces, crystal.

Italian: men’s fashion, tailoring, shoes, leather goods, textiles, eyewear, sports cars.

These aren’t hard-and-fast rules. Both regions have excellent examples of everything on both lists. Another way to think about it is to ask yourself which city calls to you? Is it Paris or Milano? Bordeaux or Roma? Nice or Venezia? If you pick the language of the place where you want to spend the most time, that’s a great starting point.

To be clear, in the largest cities in France and Italy (and major cities in other Western European nations), in stores that are part of chains, the salespeople and other customer-facing personnel you interact with will almost universally speak English, and will do so quite well. In fact, it now seems the rule, not the exception, that in the Paris boutiques of grandes maisons such as Hermès and Louis Vuitton, salespeople speak at least three languages fluently: French, English, and another, the latter increasingly being (or including) Chinese. You don’t need to speak French or Italian to shop in such stores in Paris or Milano—or, for that matter, in Bordeaux or Roma.

Further, speaking B1 or better in your acquired language doesn’t make you an insider and it certainly doesn’t guarantee good service. I know someone who was treated badly in the flagship boutique of a major French fashion house despite speaking high B1 / low B2 French (and being dressed well, and being polite, and knowing the maison’s products)—so badly, in fact, that they vowed never to return to that location, and never have.

But speaking the local language presents the opportunity to deepen your experience. You can ask unscripted questions. You can understand answers that haven’t been simplified for tourists. Most of all, you can sustain a conversation long enough for it to become human rather than just transactional.

Returning to my opening anecdote, would I have purchased the scarf without speaking a word of French? Yes. Would the staff at the store have treated me with politeness? I believe they would. But I had a different interaction with them, one that has stuck with me ever since.

The Sapir-Whorf hypothesis has to do with how language affects our view of the world. In the weak version of the hypothesis, also known as linguistic relativity, language influences our cultural perceptions. In the strong version of the hypothesis, also known as linguistic determinism—which is at the heart of and name-checked by the movie Arrival—language actually determines thought. There’s little support these days for the strong version of the hypothesis, but more modest forms of linguistic relativity remain seriously discussed and have at least some level of empirical support.

Some time ago, I was visiting dear friends in France, an older couple whom I had known for more than twenty years. One day, on a walk through gardens, I asked the wife how I should address her when we spoke in French.

My question was based on the fact that French has two second-person subject pronouns: tu and vous. Tu is the singular familiar; vous is the plural but also the singular formal. In many contexts today, especially among younger French, people are quicker to dispense with vous and move to tu in one-on-one conversations. It’s also true, however, that many French still take the forms more seriously, and some feel that tu should be reserved for family and close friends. The French language has verbs for each: tutoyer is to address someone familiarly, and vouvoyer is to address someone formally.

At first, she misunderstood the question I was asking. “I think that people are too quick to use tu these days,” she said. “It’s not to my liking.” I explained that what I was asking was specific to me—how did she want me to address her?

“You? You are different. You may use tu with me.”

That was an emotional moment for me that I’ll never forget. My point is that it wouldn’t have been possible without speaking some level of French (mine was low B1 at the time). I had to speak French—at least to some degree—to understand why the question was important to ask, and why her answer held significance.

Language may not determine how we think, but it does shape how we view the world. And understanding how others view the world differently from us is perhaps the greatest gift language can give.

First, pick a language and get going. There are plenty of free and low-cost tools out there. I’ve used Duolingo for years, but I know people who’ve had success with other apps, sites, and methods. The bottom line is that whatever device you’re reading this on, you can be doing your first language lesson minutes from now.

Next, be consistent. A polyglot I know always says that 10 minutes a day of language study is better than two hours once a week. Also note a widely-cited 2010 study¹ that found that when it comes to creating new daily habits, “The median time to reach 95% of asymptote was 66 days, with a range from 18 to 254 days.” In plain English, your results may vary, but on average, you can expect that if you repeat a new habit every day for 66 days, you’re likely to stick with it.

Finally, don’t wait for perfection, or even proficiency. Just start speaking your new language as soon as you have the opportunity. In my experience, most native speakers will recognize the effort you’re making and be appreciative, not dismissive.

If you were to learn one language to deepen your experience of luxury, would you choose French, Italian, or some other language, and why?