In Men at Arms, the fifteenth book in Terry Pratchett’s Discworld series of comedic fantasy novels, the character Sam Vimes explains his “boots theory” of socio-economic unfairness:1
The reason that the rich were so rich, Vimes reasoned, was because they managed to spend less money.
Take boots, for example. He earned thirty-eight dollars a month plus allowances. A really good pair of leather boots cost fifty dollars. But an affordable pair of boots, which were sort of OK for a season or two and then leaked like hell when the cardboard gave out, cost about ten dollars. Those were the kind of boots Vimes always bought, and wore until the soles were so thin that he could tell where he was in Ankh-Morpork on a foggy night by the feel of the cobbles.
But the thing was that good boots lasted for years and years. A man who could afford fifty dollars had a pair of boots that’d still be keeping his feet dry in ten years’ time, while the poor man who could only afford cheap boots would have spent a hundred dollars on boots in the same time and would still have wet feet.
Later in the novel, the same character describes a wealthy woman living in a mansion full of inherited furniture so well-made that it “never wore out”, enabling her to live well on less money than he did living poorly.
This isn’t a rant on socioeconomic injustice (as satisfying as that might be to write). Instead, I want to ask a question:
What if the true opposite of cheapness isn’t expensiveness, but permanence?
In other words, what if by spending more—and spending wisely—we can buy things that could pay back their increased cost and then some, potentially lasting a lifetime or beyond?
I don’t mean something like an heirloom-quality watch, as wonderful as such objects can be. The people in the market for such things aren’t typically buying one-and-done. Among watch collectors, one survey found the average such person owns 6.1 watches with a median collection value of £34,800 ($46,398 / 40 336 €). They may be buying heirloom-quality watches, but they’re not buying them to save money, or to buy a single watch of their dreams.
What I mean is something of which we normally might buy multiple over a lifetime, but if found in an example made well enough, cared for properly, and serviced as necessary, could outlive us. A top-quality wool overcoat. A robust piece of luggage. A well-engineered car. Even a digital camera, now that improvements are leveling out.
This isn’t a new concept. The Reddit forum Buy It For Life—which I recommend—exists to encourage exactly what it says: “…to showcase high quality, durable, and practical products that can be bought once and used for life”.
What I’m proposing is Buy It For Life but with a luxury twist, namely:
Luxury goods makers are capable of making items that can last a lifetime,
Items that last are more sustainable and that alone makes them desirable, so,
Items that last don’t necessarily lead to less revenue for luxury firms, so,
We should insist that our luxury firms of choice make items that can last.
Where this leads is to the concept of a second (and third, and so on) life for luxury goods: the luxury afterlife.
What is a luxury afterlife?
Of course, I don’t mean afterlife in a mystical sense. By luxury afterlife, I mean the life of a luxury item after the first owner is done with it.
For a luxury item to have an afterlife requires three things:
Serviceability. Is the item designed with repair in mind? Will its producer be available and willing to repair it when need be? If not, will independent technicians have the skills to do so? If neither of these things is true, then the item has a finite lifespan.
Viability. Will the item’s value justify continuing to invest in it through ongoing maintenance and repair? If not, it won’t be maintained absent an emotional connection to it, and that’s only likely for the original owner.
Timelessness. Will the item be something that people will still desire ten years from now? Twenty? Longer? If not, it won’t matter that it’s in good condition.
Image: Atiwat Witthayanurut / Shutterstock
It seems to me that luxury brands often want credit for craftsmanship at the time of sale. I’m fine with that. In fact, I think it’s great, as long as they’re equally willing to be judged on their craftsmanship years or even decades later, when their products require service.
Serviceability. Viability. Timelessness. If these are so simple and so obvious, why do so few luxury maisons embrace them as universal qualities?
