Luxury fashion has always fascinated me—the craftsmanship, the heritage, the quiet (or sometimes not-so-quiet) signal of success. But lately, I’ve found myself pulling back. Not completely, and certainly not forever, but enough to make me pause and ask: What am I really paying for?
This isn’t a declaration of war against luxury. I still appreciate beautiful things, and I won’t pretend I’ll never invest in a high-quality piece again. But the way I engage with luxury has shifted. Prices are soaring, the industry’s sustainability issues are glaring, and—perhaps most importantly—I'm questioning the narrative we’ve been sold about luxury equating to status.
Here’s why I’m buying less.
1. Luxury Prices Are Becoming Absurd
Once upon a time, luxury meant exclusivity. Now, it feels like it’s just expensive for the sake of being expensive. Price hikes have become so frequent that even die-hard fashion lovers are side-eyeing them.
Take designer handbags, for example. A classic Chanel flap bag, which cost around £3,000 a decade ago, now exceeds £8,000. And for what? The same materials, the same design—except now, it’s just further out of reach for the average person.
Brands justify these increases with talk of inflation, craftsmanship, and exclusivity, but let’s be real: the demand for luxury is higher than ever, and these price hikes are strategic. They want us to believe that the more unattainable an item is, the more desirable it becomes.
It’s a game, and I’m choosing to step off the board.
2. Renting & Sharing Makes More Sense
A few years ago, if you wanted to wear a designer dress to an event, you had two choices: buy it or admire it from afar. Now, rental platforms and resale sites have completely changed the game.
Why spend thousands on a dress I’ll wear once when I can rent it for a fraction of the price? Why let a handbag sit in my wardrobe gathering dust when someone else could be enjoying it?
Renting and second-hand shopping don’t just make financial sense—they align with the kind of conscious consumption I want to practise. The fashion industry’s environmental impact is staggering, and if I can reduce my footprint while still enjoying beautiful pieces, it’s a no-brainer.
3. The Myth of Luxury & Status
Here’s something I’ve had to unlearn: luxury does not define success.
For years, we’ve been conditioned to see designer bags, watches, and shoes as markers of achievement. A Birkin means you’ve made it. A Cartier bracelet signals a certain social standing. We buy into these ideas, sometimes without even realising it.
But when I strip it all back, what does owning these things actually do for me? Will they make me a healthier person? A kinder person? Will they improve my skills, my relationships, my happiness?
The answer is no.
Luxury items are just that—items. They can bring joy, and they can be an investment, but they are not a measure of self-worth. I refuse to let an industry dictate how I feel about myself based on what’s hanging in my wardrobe.
4. Chasing Luxury Can Be a Distraction
There was a time when I would spend hours tracking down sold-out designer pieces, justifying extravagant purchases with it’s an investment or I deserve it. And while treating yourself is absolutely fine, I had to be honest with myself—how much of this was about the item itself, and how much was about the chase?
When you’re constantly looking for the next thing to buy, you’re always in a state of not enough. There’s always a new itbag, a limited edition drop, a trend to keep up with. It’s a cycle designed to keep us spending, never satisfied.
I don’t want to be in that cycle anymore. I want my time, my energy, and my money to be spent on things that truly add value to my life—experiences, learning, well-being, and real connections.
So, Will I Never Buy Luxury Again?
Let’s be clear—I’m not saying I’ll never buy luxury again. But I will be far more intentional about it. I won’t buy just because something is trending or because I feel like I need to prove something. If I do invest in a luxury piece, it will be for the right reasons: quality, longevity, and genuine appreciation.
Luxury should be about craftsmanship, not clout. About personal style, not societal validation. And definitely not about falling for a marketing machine that thrives on making us feel like we’re always missing something.
At the end of the day, it’s just stuff. And I’m learning to be okay with having less of it.
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