Janus Thinking

A new book out by author Dana Thomas, called Deluxe: How Luxury Lost its Lustre, explores how the manufacture of luxury goods, and in particular luxury clothing, has been outsourced almost in its entirety to a handful of developing countries such as China and Turkey.

Thomas explains that despite the protestations of certain luxury house owners, the competitive landscape for luxury goods companies is one which makes this phenomenon hard to resist.

For the last sixty years, the actual production of luxury goods themselves has become much like any other type of product.  The big difference – something which I often explore in my academic thinking – is the way in which these luxury goods have been marketed to make you feel a particular way.

In my Theta-Lambda dichotomy of personality types, Lambdas purchase luxury goods which help them connect to their desire for challenge and individuality.  Thetas, on the other hand, purchase goods which help them affiliate themselves to a certain group of people or lifestyles.

Luxury goods brands understand this marketing principle so they mostly produce cheaply and market generously.  As Thomas notes in her book, the lion’s share of a product is made in China but then a small piece (a piece of stitching or pocket, for instance) is added in the West so that the ubiquitous ‘Made in China’ label can be avoided and the luxury illusion can be maintained.

This week I came across an excellent essay by James Twitchell from the Winter 2007 issue of the Wilson Quarterly, a publication by the Woodrow Wilson International Center for Scholars in Washington DC. Lux Populi describes the commodification of luxury in an interesting and throught-provoking way.

Twitchell says that as Americans have developed an increasingly strong desire to associate themselves with recognized objects of little intrinsic but high positional value, they’ve been increasingly able to afford some form of luxury–it’s the “Twinkiefication of deluxe.” Twitchell argues that as everyone aspires to luxury, “luxury” is no longer something that differentiates.

There is very little cake a rich person once gorged on that a ­middle-­class person can’t get on his plate. You name it; I can taste it. So I can’t afford a casita on Bermuda, but I can get in on a time-share for a weekend. No, I can’t own a stretch limo, but I can rent one by the hour. Maybe Venice is out this year, but I’ll go to the Venetian in Vegas instead. I can’t afford an Armani suit, but what about these eyeglasses with Giorgio’s name plastered on them? Commodore Vanderbilt said that if you have to ask how much a yacht costs, you can’t afford one, but check out my stateroom on my chartered Majestic Princess. True, I don’t have my own Gulfstream V jet, but I can upgrade to first class on Delta with the miles I “earn” by using my American Express card. Is that my own Lexus out front? Or is it on lease from a used car dealer? You’ll never ­know.

Twitchell goes on to say that the very wealthy only have two genuine luxury items left: time and philanthropy. Overall it’s an interesting argument, and it certainly fits in with many of the trends we’ve been tracking on Janus Thinking. You can read the whole article here.