The New Luxury

luxury has only ever meant one thing: whatever is scarce.

The pattern

Luxury is not a category of object. It is a position on a scarcity curve: whatever is rare sits at the top, and everything else slides off it as it becomes available. Spices were luxury until shipping. Ice was luxury until refrigeration. Silk was luxury until industry. In each case the object did not get worse. It got available, and availability is the opposite of luxury.

Run that logic forward and the list rewrites itself. Information is free. Entertainment is infinite. Output became nearly free in the last two years, which is the newest entry.

What went scarce is embarrassingly ordinary. An hour nobody can book. A body that stands up without commentary. An afternoon unreachable, with nothing on fire when you return. Attention that stays where you put it for longer than four minutes. A friendship that predates the company.

The pricing anomaly is the point. These cost close to nothing and almost nobody has them, which breaks the usual link between scarcity and price. The explanation is that they cannot be bought at all. They are protected or they are lost, and protection is a scheduling decision made repeatedly against everybody else's claim on your week.

Fifty years ago none of this was luxury. It was an ordinary Tuesday. The era manufactured the scarcity, and then sold you substitutes for it.

So the audit worth running is not financial. Count how many of those eight you actually had in the last seven days. That number is your standard of living.

The mechanism behind it

Luxury has only ever meant one thing: whatever is scarce.

For most of history that was material. Spices, silk, ice in summer. All of it sits on a shelf now, which is precisely why none of it registers as luxury anymore.

Here is what became scarce instead, in the lives of the most successful people I work with:

— Waking before the alarm, and not reaching for anything
— A body that does not negotiate when you stand up
— An hour in the calendar nobody can book
— Saying no without building a case for it
— Being unreachable for an afternoon, with nothing on fire when you return
— A friendship that predates the company

The pricing is the interesting part. Almost every line costs nothing, and almost nobody has them, which breaks the usual relationship between scarcity and price. These cannot be purchased. They are protected, or they are lost — and protection is a scheduling decision, made repeatedly, against everyone else's claim on your week.

None of this was luxury fifty years ago. It was just Tuesday.

Count how many you actually had in the last seven days. That is a more honest read on your standard of living than any figure on a statement.

What to do with it

for most of history that was material. spices, silk, ice in summer. all of it sits on a shelf now, which is exactly why none of it lands as luxury anymore.

so look at what went scarce instead. an hour nobody can book. a body that stands up without comment. an afternoon unreachable, with nothing on fire when you come back. a friend who knew you before the company existed.

the odd part is the price. almost every line costs nothing, and almost nobody has them — which breaks the usual relationship between scarce and expensive. they can't be bought at all. they're protected, or they're gone.

count how many you actually had this week. that number is your real standard of living, and nobody is tracking it for you.

comment AUDIT and i'll send you the audit that prices this properly — free, nothing attached.

The bigger picture

luxury has only ever meant the scarce thing. spices, silk, ice in summer — all on a shelf now.

what's scarce instead: an hour nobody can book. a body that doesn't negotiate. an afternoon unreachable with nothing on fire after it. a friend who knew you before the company.

almost none of it costs anything, and almost nobody has it — because these aren't bought, they're protected.

none of this was luxury fifty years ago. it was just tuesday.