Luxury is a lie: real prestige doesn’t want you

A few months ago, I passed one of those over-designed luggage pop-ups in Toronto. You know the type: cream walls, velvet ropes, LED logos in "minimal design typography", a DJ pretending to enjoy lo-fi. The rep smiled and handed me a “VIP” card — 20% off, because “luxury should be for everyone.”

Of course. That’s why it isn’t.

We’ve diluted the word beyond recognition. Slapped it on oat milk, yoga mats, and algorithm-friendly timepieces with 1200 influencers and 12 months of inventory. The illusion of prestige, now available in four colors and three payment plans.

But here’s the thing: real luxury doesn’t chase you. It doesn’t explain itself. It doesn’t sit on your Instagram feed hoping for likes.

Luxury, actual luxury, disappears the moment it becomes accessible.

The moment we confused “Fancy” with “Prestige”

Somewhere between the third “exclusive” drop and the millionth #ad, we forgot what luxury was designed to do. Not to scale. Not to democratize. But to separate. To intimidate with silence, not seduce with content.

That’s the biggest lie marketers tell themselves today: that you can create luxury through storytelling. You can’t. Not if the story is showing up twice a day, subtitled, sponsored, and cut for reels.

Real luxury is a behavioral flex, not a visual one. It’s not how it looks — it’s how it refuses to look back.

Think about Hermès. They manufacture about 70,000 Birkins a year — a drop in the ocean compared to Louis Vuitton’s volume. They don’t advertise them. They don’t even offer them online. No collabs, no ambassadors, no Gen-Z sugar bait. What they offer instead is organized frustration — the waitlist, the store dance, the polite dismissal. And yet, their margins soar while everyone else bleeds.

It’s not branding. It’s filtration. And that, right there, is the secret most “luxury” brands today are too insecure to admit: the fewer people you serve, the stronger your brand becomes.

What I learned flying ghost clients

When we launched NEOJETS, we weren’t chasing mass. We weren’t interested in the lifestyle flexers who charter jets for Instagram. We were building for a different species altogether — people who don’t want to be seen.

Our best clients — the real whales — didn’t give a damn about the champagne or the cabin wood finish. They didn’t take photos. They never asked for upgrades. They cared about one thing: time. And maybe privacy, if they had a name worth hiding.

We spent zero on advertising. Not by accident — by design. Instead, we ran private dinners at FBO lounges. We personalized every onboarding with handwritten notes. We remembered birthdays, divorces, tail numbers, the name of their dog’s breeder in Monaco.

And it worked. Not because we were louder, but because we were invisible in the right places.

Here’s a data point I wish more brands understood: in 2024 alone, there were 3.6 million private jet flights globally. But Instagram has fewer than 1 million #privatejet posts, most of them aspirational, not even flight photos. That means most flights — and most flyers — aren’t showing off. The ones you see? Usually influencers whose entire brand depends on being “seen” in someone else’s lifestyle.

But real users don’t want the post. They want the ghost. They use private jets the same way they use VPNs — to disappear. And if your brand shows up in their feed, it’s probably already dead to them.

When Exclusivity Becomes a Costume

A lot of brands today still talk like aristocrats, but behave like club promoters.

Watch what happens when they feel the pulse of irrelevance creeping in: the “limited” sneaker collab, the artist x brand x influencer collection, the capsule drop that’s neither rare nor essential. The Moncler Genius event in Shanghai drew 8,000 people and tens of millions online. Was it loud? Yes. Was it luxury? No. It was a Superbowl halftime show in couture.

I’m not saying all innovation is bad. But if your logo needs a guest star to stay relevant, you’re renting relevance, not owning it.

We’ve gone from “waitlists” to “hype lists.” From couture salons to Shopify countdown timers. From stories whispered behind closed doors to sponsored reels begging to go viral.

The Clients You Don’t Deserve (Yet)

I once worked with a private aviation brand that had an identity problem. They were trying to grow. Fast. The board wanted a “more scalable funnel.” So they started flirting with paid media. A YouTube pre-roll here, a lifestyle magazine there.

And then it happened — the wrong client showed up. He booked a one-way flight, took 500 selfies, posted them in real time, and left a mess in the cabin. The crew was livid. The regulars noticed. A long-time member canceled that week.

That’s what happens when you lower the drawbridge without raising the price.

Luxury is not a club with bottle service. It’s a locked library with no signage.

Premium Sells Features. Luxury Sells Inaccessibility.

Let’s get this clear: premium is not luxury. It’s just slightly more expensive mass market.

Premium sells you benefits — faster, smoother, sleeker. Luxury sells you belonging, but only if you can pass the test.

If you have to explain your luxury, it isn’t luxury. If you have to chase your buyer, they were never yours to begin with.

How to Build a Brand That Repels the Wrong People

Here’s the real work. Not selling to more people. Selling to fewer, better ones.

• Gatekeep. With intent. The line out the door is marketing. The locked door with no address is status.

• Say no faster. Scarcity creates gravity. Make your product harder to get. Make your onboarding feel earned.

• Make time part of your product. Slow is a flex. Delay is prestige.

• Choose silence over exposure. Every word you say should raise the price of the next.

• If your growth strategy requires a collab, it’s already a compromise.

This isn’t about being elitist. It’s about protecting the one thing real luxury is made of: mystique.

Burn the Premium Playbook

You don’t need more reach. You need more resistance.

You don’t need mass appeal. You need magnetic pushback.

You don’t need to tell your story louder. You need to make it whispered — passed between insiders, hard to earn, impossible to replicate.

Because real luxury doesn’t beg. It doesn’t shout. It doesn’t show up uninvited.

It waits. Quietly. Confidently. Just out of reach.

And if you’re good enough… you might just be let in.