"Quiet luxury" as we know it is the pinnacle of douchery

The real quiet luxury is the absence of judgement. After all, what's harder to attain than that?

“We have great dinner parties at which everyone sits around talking about politics, history, art and literature—all this peppered with really funny jokes. But back in America, I was at a party and a girl looked at me and said, ‘Oh, my God! Are those Juicy jeans that you’re wearing?’ and I thought, I can’t stay here. I have to get back to Europe.” - Gwyneth Paltrow

AP Photo. See full story/credits here.

I’ve tried to write this in many ways. Like “no judgement” is the new quiet luxury. But ultimately I wanted to just scream “the emperor has no clothes!” Because “quiet luxury” as we’re currently talking about it is fucking MEAN. (And I spoke about this thread of meanness earlier, here.)

Themming + Ussing is Very Unluxe

We constantly make judgments about ourselves in relationship to others. We do it every day. We do it in so many ways, but the healing starts when instead of seeing yourself as different you see yourself as the same.

Because then you have humanity.

Not to be all woo woo. But think about it. I heard this from a speaker at an open AA meeting I attended. Something like — “I’d hear people’s drinking and drugging war stories and I’d always tell myself ‘Oh, what a fuckup. That’s not me.’ I didn’t get better until I stopped finding differences and started seeing the similarities.” And the reason why you want to find differences in the first place? It’s a kind of self preservation. Your brain doesn’t want to admit your own failings and vulnerabilities. The real luxury would be working on yourself so you become, not devoid of these failings, which is impossible, but able to minimize the need to protect yourself, and, in doing so, the nastiness it can impart.

I declared — I think it was last year — “the year of no judgment” and now it’s an ongoing practice. And I truly mean “practice” because even as I am aware, I have to fight my natural instinct to make distinctions about what’s good and what’s bad about the most superficial and completely subjective things. The existing notion of Quiet Luxury, the Gwyneth notion, trades on that, separating itself, by its very name, from “Loud Luxury” — you feel the judgement, right? One is lovely. And one is — ew. Brash, bawdy, bull-in-a-china shop. And also — attainable. Since it’s not whispered, it can be detected and achieved. Oh the horror!

Is head-to-toe The Row Quiet Luxury?

That’s pretty much what GP trial observers concluded. It’s stealth, logo free, all the things. But IMO true “quiet luxury” would be the state of being so content in yourself and your heart that you do and buy and have truly what you love (fancy or not, well made or thrown together, loud or quiet, known or unknown, copy-able or impossible to copy) and also feel no need to judge others for what they have and wear etc. You are devoid of the need to separate yourself from others just for the sake of separating yourself. And you can’t have that kind of contentment, I feel, when you’re a douche or allow, without working on it, douchey behavior.

happy green Birkin days in the old, loud closet

So, for example, on my 40th birthday, I treated myself to bright green Hermès Birkin bag after much research, etc. etc. and I wore it gladly for X amount of time. And then I decided that this bag “jumped the shark” for me. Why? I saw too many Real Housewives with bright Birkins, and it clicked something in my brain that made me not like it anymore. That something is judgement. I decide that “they” (I’ve created a “they” — already a bad sign) are tacky and nouveau and whatever. And to separate myself, consciously or not, my tastes changed. Oh, and I’m sure that comes from insecurity — I had to draw this line and declare the side of it I stand on for fear of becoming “them.”

If I were a person of real quiet luxury, the kind that interests me, my mind and heart would be empty of these stupid “distinctions.” Which honestly are teeny tiny filaments of nothing. Ask a person in Nepal — or an Olsen sister — to differentiate between me + Vicky Gunvalson. That would take years of study, probing the nuances like an analyzing a Yeats epic poem.

sooooo different, amirite?

I traded in my suddenly not good Birkin bag for a Kelly bag in a subdued color, and in a size that I thought no one would want, but would be very useful for me. I mean, ok. But it’s not like I found some singular artisan on a hillside. Covering yourself in The Row is arguably not quiet luxury. It’s just a more privileged luxury. (Read what The Cut has to say on quiet luxury as just a cat-and-mouse oneupmanship game.) If you came to this country later and made your money later or if you experienced no money, then you might in fact have an intrinsic need to show what you spend, a return on investment in a sense. You might just as easily afford The Row and know about it (I mean, it’s on Nordstrom online), but it’s a real sense of privilege that puts you in a place to feel comfortable about sporting a lovely, normal looking crewneck that’s almost 2k. Versus, say a same-priced Vuitton bag. And judging one as “better than” another is where the douchery comes in.

Sleeping well at night? Priceless.

My grandparents had some friends whose family members had escaped the Holocaust by paying off some guards. When they came to this country, they went into the diamond business and became very wealthy. But they had a fear of spending all their money (in case future generations needed its power as they had), so they preferred inexpensive clothing. And they also had a fear that they might need to flee again at some point, so they wore diamonds at all times. The matron of the family, when I saw her, wore a Disney tee shirt, black stretch capri pants, and real diamonds the size of airplane ice cubes (literally) on her neck and every finger. I’m guessing GP would not approve.

But THAT is quiet luxury. Not needing to approve or be approved. Wearing what you want, how you want and NOT GIVING A FUCK. And also, more importantly — not judging any one else doing just that.

“Quiet” isn’t a lack of logo or a ply of cashmere. It’s a quiet in your heart and mind when you lie down at night knowing that you don’t have to desperately separate yourself from others because you just feel calmly at home in your you-ness, defining it as you wish. And it’s the lovely quiet of not being full of self loathing because you were a douchebag today with your stupid judgement.

some unimaginative eye candy likely also worn by Real Housewives! Oh no!

There is a person on Instagram whose content I generally love. And she often talks about her likes and dislikes and especially around luxury and logos. And every time she does, there’s a “better than” thing happening. There is a hushed disdain for the stuff “everyone” has. Like you shouldn’t have a Cartier Love bracelet like “everyone” but you “should” have something from an independent jeweler found on your (ok possibly her) travels. Those who have that ole Love bracelet are not thinking for themselves in her opinion (and yet, to listen to her and do as she does is JUST THAT, not thinking for yourself, even if it leaves you logo-free). There’s a spelling out of what’s true luxury - not this and not that. And baked into it this holier-than-thou quality. That, to me, is the antithesis of quiet luxury. She is so not-calm in herself and her personal story that she has to be judgy. And it’s mean. I have zero tolerance for mean these days. Now, when I love the meat of her content, I have to do it holding my nose.

Changing the tape

It takes a lot, and it’s an ongoing battle, to ascertain what you truly love, apart from everyone else, every other voice across all the channels we tune into these days. Including those voices that tell you what’s too loud, too obvious, etc. I still judge, and when I do, I treat it like an imaginary tape recorder (remember those?). I take the judgement tape out and throw it into the imaginary trash and insert a new one. The new one is generally something like “This is subjective. You don’t know better than anyone else.” Or “I’m glad I get to live where people have different tastes and do what they want.” And honestly sometimes the voice is like this: “Calm down, Rachel. Who. The fuck. Are you?” and also: “Please quit being a douche bag.” I will continue to try.