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Posted 1/28/2002
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Beware the luxury trap It seems like everything now comes in deluxe, super-deluxe and ultra-deluxe versions. But once you've paid $10 for a vegetable peeler, can an $8,299 stove be far behind? By MP Dunleavey I was in an extremely expensive lingerie shop, minding my own business, when I saw it: the cutest bikini ever created. I knew it would be a mistake to try it on, but an irresistible force dragged me into the dressing room. Gasp! It was adorable. I was adorable. And for only $320 . . .
“THREE HUNDRED AND TWENTY DOLLARS!” my conscience screamed. “It’s not even one square foot of fabric. Get thee to Filene's, girlfriend!” But I couldn’t. I had found the cutest bikini on earth. Any woman can testify to the trauma of swimsuit shopping. Not only had I been spared that ordeal, I’d nailed the answer to an age-old mystery: What do women want? A decent-looking bathing suit. I would wear this for YEARS, I vowed. Besides, it was French. But...I didn’t buy the suit. I knew that if I bought that bikini, my entire beach-going wardrobe would need an upgrade. I’d need an equally chic sarong and a suitably French beach bag. And wear that lovely French confection with last year's sandals? I really didn’t think so. In an uncharacteristic moment of clarity, I recognized that the $320 bikini was actually going to cost me close to $1,000 -- and I didn’t even have a ticket to Biarritz. I clutched my wallet and breathed a prayer of thanks: I’d narrowly escaped being sucked hook, line and Visa into The Luxury Trap. The urge to upgrade Of course, the world of fashion has always thrived on an ability to charge obscene sums for everyday items, but now an insidious trend is affecting virtually every type of consumer product: Everything comes in deluxe, super-deluxe and ultra-deluxe models. No matter what you own or wish to buy, there is always a more expensive version and an ever-more-excessive lifestyle that comes with it. David Brooks, author of “Bobos in Paradise,” describes the allure of the endless upgrade: “The members of the money class pour resources into the big luxury items, like yachts and jewelry,” he writes. Those of us in what Brooks calls “the educated elite” -- i.e., folks with politically correct values and a leetle too much disposable income -- “buy the same items as the proletariat -- it’s just that we buy rarefied versions of these items that the working class would find preposterous. . . . Accordingly, we end up paying hugely inflated prices for all sorts of things that used to be cheap.” Consider these examples: Baby strollers: A simple but sturdy model costs about $70, but a "travel system" from Peg Perego with "plush Italian fabric" will set you back $350. Then again, perhaps what your lifestyle demands is a twin-seat "sport-utility stroller" by BOB for $400. Think you've reached the peak of strollerdom? Not until you've shelled out $4,200 for a Burberry pram -- and maybe not even then. Coffee: Sure, you can buy a can of Chock Full O’ Nuts for about $1.99, but wouldn't you rather go down to Starbucks and shell out upward of $9.99 a pound for French Roast? Better yet, try Kona Private Reserve for $25 a pound. Kitchen gizmos: Back at home, savoring the aroma of that exquisite cup o' joe, we suddenly realize that our 99-cent Kmart peeler is now completely inadequate. Off we go the next day to Williams-Sonoma to buy a fancy rubber-handled peeler for $6.50. Or maybe you'd prefer the stylish aluminum model imported from France and available for a mere $10. (Its precision stainless-steel blade helps to minimize waste. Think of the savings!) The upward-downward spiral There’s nothing wrong with splurging on coffee, a pram or a peeler. If only it stopped there. But the truth is, these purchases are masquerading as individual acts of luxury when, in reality, they are part of a way of life and a way of spending that easily spins out of control. One of my favorite kids’ books is called, “If You Give a Mouse a Cookie.” It describes in hilarious detail the escalating demands of a mouse given one cookie -- and then wants the milk to go with it, a napkin to wipe his whiskers . . . and has soon taken over the house. That’s how we get into the luxury trap. You start out with the swanky coffee, but soon you realize you need a French coffee press and an electric grinder. Can the $300 cappucino machine be far behind? The pitfalls of performance Clever marketers have been telling us for years that the real reason to buy expensive stuff is because it works so much better, lasts so much longer, is safer or so much more efficient than that ratty old thing that was last year's state of the art. Never mind that, in most cases, the difference between average and superior performance is undetectable without the aid of delicate scientific instruments. Take vacuum cleaners, for instance. How did we ever survive in the era before HEPA filtration systems? Vacuum cleaners were spewing tiny noxious particles with who-knows-what awful consequences. The HEPA standard originally applied only to air filters for nuclear power and semiconductor plants, and it requires that the filter capture 99.97% of all particles as small as 0.3 microns. But does any of us really need air clean enough to manufacture computer chips? If you don't, you can pick up a plain-vanilla Hoover for $95. Of course, if you want to go bagless (a new convenience we never knew we needed), it'll cost you at least $260. Self-propelled? That's $300. And to get both, you'll have to shell out about $450. But if you want the top-of-the-line Kirby Gsix with "the latest available technology," we're talking $1,300. Beware the big 'investment' The home is a place where a lot of us feel justified in spending big bucks because we think of our homes not just as a place to sleep, eat and watch TV, but as "an investment." Often, a home is the largest single chunk of wealth many of us possess, but that doesn't mean spending money on your house is the same thing as investing. One friend of mine admitted that she’d spent $400 on an 18-inch glass shelf that now sits above the toilet in her bathroom. The shelf isn’t really big enough to hold anything useful, like, say, toilet paper, but it looks great. Another friend confessed that when she and her husband were redoing the kitchen in their new house, she had a choice between the $300 Home Depot tile and the $1,400 imported, Italian, purple-and-indigo recycled-glass tile called “sfumature.” Naturally, anything with a name that needs translation is hard to resist. But once you’ve got the fabulous new tile, the stove starts to look a little shabby. A plain old Kenmore from Sears will cost you $600, but is that what such magnificent tiles require? Wouldn't they be in better company with the Viking 48-inch Dual Fuel Range for $8,299? After all, a heavy-duty range like the Viking is a solid investment, right? Yep. Just like that French bikini. 
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