Luxury Is Easy. Taste Is Rare.

Weekend Musings from Ashton

I’ve been thinking about the difference between luxury and taste.

Twenty years ago, the amount of money circulating in the U.S. economy was a fraction of what it is today. However you choose to measure it, the money supply has expanded dramatically over the last two decades. More money almost inevitably creates a bigger appetite for luxury.

You can see it in the marketplace.

We aren’t drinking 250% more Coca-Cola than we were twenty years ago. Yet luxury has become one of the defining stories of our economy. Over roughly the same period, Coca-Cola’s stock has appreciated around 282%, while LVMH—the company behind Louis Vuitton, Moët & Chandon, Hennessy, Dior, Tiffany, and dozens of other luxury brands—has climbed more than 1,100%.

Luxury has had a remarkable run.

But here’s the question I’ve been asking myself:

Will the next twenty years require even more luxury?

I don’t think so.

I think they’ll require more taste.

Luxury is easy. Anyone can buy an expensive bottle of champagne and hand it to a friend. It’s luxurious, yes—but the story often ends there.

Taste is something altogether different.

Taste is presentation.
Taste is timing.
Taste is restraint.
Taste is intentionality.

Taste asks, “Who is this for?” before asking, “How much does it cost?”

Taste customizes the experience. It notices details. It makes people feel seen rather than simply impressed.

And perhaps most importantly, taste isn’t only something we offer others.

It’s how we design our own lives.

It’s choosing a life that fits who we’ve been called to be instead of borrowing someone else’s definition of success.

As artificial intelligence becomes more capable, as products become more abundant, and as luxury becomes more accessible, I suspect the true differentiator won’t be who owns the nicest things.

It will be those who possess the finest taste.

Taste in conversation.
Taste in business.
Taste in hospitality.
Taste in relationships.
Taste in leadership.

Because in the end, I don’t think history will ask us whether our lives looked expensive.

I think it will ask something much simpler:

Did it taste good?

Was it true?

Was it beautiful?

Alas, taste is the great predecessor to savoring.