Buying clothes on credit used to be embarrassing. Now it’s just another checkout option.
Since Covid, it’s never been easier to afford what you can’t actually afford. A few clicks, three installments, zero reflection. Suddenly The Row is “manageable,” Margiela is “within reach,” and a Rimowa case is only a couple of payments away. Luxury didn’t get cheaper but responsibility did.
Brands love it. Payment providers love it. And the already rich? They’re doing just fine living off our monthly mistakes. We call it access, but it’s really debt with good lighting.
What gets lost is the meaning of a statement. When everyone can buy luxury on credit, luxury stops saying anything. It becomes loud, excessive, strangely empty.
The irony is brutal. Millennials and Gen Z complain about the cost of living while debating it over €10 matcha and €80 dinners, dressed impeccably, flying budget airlines with premium luggage. Ownership feels impossible, so why even try? We’ve watched the boomer script and decided we don’t want the ending.
So we choose hedonism over houses. Experiences over equity. Debt over patience. Maybe it’s rebellion. Maybe it’s exhaustion. Or maybe it’s just easier to live well now than wait quietly for later. Even if later comes with interest.