performative luxury is tacky.

Luxury used to whisper. A classic watch ticking quietly. Old money sitting in silence. A rare craft you could feel, not just see. Now? Luxury yells. It layers. It piles concept on concept, aesthetic on aesthetic, till nothing feels real anymore. And honestly, that is just tacky.

Look around. Indian brands borrowing foreign minimalism. Global brands packaging Ayurveda like it’s some holy grail. Limited editions stacked on limited editions. Every product comes with a story that screams sophistication, refinement, taste. BUT, it’s borrowed, recycled, performative. And somewhere in the middle of all this glitter, we’re losing our own sense of taste.

It’s not about simple pleasures. Don’t get me wrong, a tea in sunlight or reading a book is lovely, probably privileged, but that’s not the critique here. The critique is how luxury itself is being numbed. Old classics, artisanal craftsmanship and heritage aesthetics are being folded into curated feeds, glossy images, and marketing narratives until they become style statements instead of experiences.

Luxury isn’t defined anymore. It’s confused. Layered. Borrowed. Mixed. And in the confusion, it numbs. We scroll past products designed to “elevate” us, but the elevation is performative, for someone else’s eye. Real indulgence, real refinement, real luxury? It’s being aestheticized, curated, and sold back to us in ways that make us forget we had taste in the first place.

So here’s the question we need to ask ourselves: are we chasing luxury, or chasing the idea of luxury someone else invented? And if the world is full of layers, borrowed concepts, and curated signals, maybe the most radical act is simple - Pause. Notice. Taste. Decide for yourself. Because that moment of reclaiming your own perception, is the kind of luxury no one can sell.