“Firmness, commodity, and delight”—Vitruvius
When I was young and impressionable, I cared about brands.
A well-positioned brand represented something celestial, yet obtainable. The power to own some thing some designer of some notoriety created wasn’t about the status. I only knew it was of Italian origin, but I couldn’t tell you why.
The power came from feeling like I was a part of something invulnerable. When you grow up relatively poor in the inner city, your aspiration isn’t really to show up other people because of what you have. You might believe that it is.
Rather, it’s to show that in a fallen world someone caught you.
Of course, people of all backgrounds indulge in gross peacocking, and pretending to be better than everyone else. The poor are known for talking a big game on a middle school football field. The rich are no different.
However, for the poor, wearing an expensive brand transports you like a high-speed rail to a place of safety. What you feel sporting a powerful brand is safe, as if a Loro Piana cashmere sweater were a Pistoiese armor breastplate.
This elusive place of safety feels like a real place.
The doors of the train slide open and you exit to see beautiful people waving at you, with the sun shining on your face. You don’t just feel superior to others, but to your former self.
It’s an important distinction.
When anxiety is affordable, peace is extravagant.
The poor yet wise eventually learn from the failure of poverty. They no longer accept the squalor of everyday life and insist on performance, from themselves and from the products they buy, no matter what’s required of them.
This is a personal distinction.
They might mature and learn to spot the inconsistencies in politicians and pitch men, who seek the attention and money we can give them. They become more intolerant of a bad sandwich than they once were.
I’ll admit, my experiences were sudden and dramatic.
Eventually, I developed a distance, arguably a moral disgust, to people and things that refused to be made well. I was changing. I began to care. At one point, I decided to be influenced by my interests instead of my background.
This was even more radical, if only because I’m Black.
This was power. I no longer found safety in any one company, culture, country, people, or movement. I discovered each of these were brands searching for power, and needed to find their safety in me. I was power.
For me, the change was psychological, not dispositional.
If as a young man I cared about brands, I’d say as an adult I care about materials. I’ll sometimes see fitness outfits with big game talk and Instagram short films, with the latest sponsored athlete modeling “exceptional” design.
I go to the website, check the materials: polyester, nylon, synthetic “breathable” tech, and other details that reduce the costs of doing business.
I’m expected to buy a brand, not a performance.
I’m not supposed to care about where the item was sourced or how it was made. Some brands even attempt to distract me with gender, race, or military-owned, monikers, or B-corporation and climate-conscious practices.
It’s as if I were an infant fascinated with high-contrast colors.
This isn’t how I felt when I bought my first pair of suede loafers. I didn’t require help or any further explanation as to the integrity or value of the shoes. The materials were familiar and finished, and that, indeed, was the point of them.
Their construction was designed to make me feel something.
When you buy materials, you insist on the function and accomplishment of the design before the prattling and postures of the company.
This doesn’t mean you care less about its politics.
It means you know that companies can and will say whatever they want within reason. What they can’t is do whatever they want.
You can market a brand as a high-quality leather purveyor of fine luxury goods. If your jackets aren’t one-hundred percent full grain leather we’ll know.
Your favorite celebrity can market a coffee brand where the beans are sustainably and ethically-sourced. But as coffee is one of the most sprayed crops in agriculture, if said beans aren’t organic, ideally specialty, their price will reflect that.
Cashmere is one such functional accomplishment.
A slippery brand can’t simply reproduce the adaptive nature of certain goats that have evolved to withstand cold and arid climates. The material derives from the fine downy undercoat of the animal, not the coarse outer layer.
It’s the reason the material is fine, warm, and soft— and expensive.
The production and technical innovation of cashmere is a multigenerational process, whose reality will cost you. Consumers who’ve transitioned smoothly to the material world rightly care less about prices than practices.
Personally, when I began to care more about ethics than stories I became a consumer of value and, ultimately, a more valuable consumer.
In the case of cashmere, when a lower-quality sweater imposes a higher lifetime cost than a higher-quality sweater might impose upfront, consumer cost curves can invert.
Cheaper things have a habit of saying one thing and doing another.
The poor yet wise also discover the truth about brands: nearly everything is lying, and the truth is worth paying for when you find it. I’d also note it’s pure alpha for aspiring luxury brands in search of our affection.
You mustn’t simply tell, but be the truth.
A preoccupation with materials is our foundation.
We don’t simply care how things look, we care how they work. We care how a product works on our skin, in our bodies, on our children, and sensibilities.
We should be as insistent on the function, durability, and execution of things, without feeling that we needed to compromise on the mechanics to feel good about them.
It’s a recess I’ve seen inside the conversations of people with taste.
What friends of mine seek to possess is the extravagance of peace, a safety in knowing their purchase has “no sorrow with it.” This gives them a confidence and twitch-speed to perform faster and longer than someone with inferior materials.
Working professionals understand this in the context of one’s tools.
Greatness in one’s professional life is an athletic pursuit. You must be vigilant when it comes to assembling the necessary materials to assist you. There are no shortcuts, but there are secrets. It’s critical you understand the most valuable one.
You need products to work exceptionally well, so you can work well.
I think of myself as a general contractor building a project. I’m also the client and the project. Time and materials are based on the time I’ll spend working on myself. Since the project requirements are subject to change, a fixed-price won’t do.
Like any contractor, I’ll add a markup on the materials used no matter the amount of work required to complete construction. I’m building a palace, not bargaining a deal.
I’m no shoddy workman. I’ll need the best tools to be the best man.
If technology is required, I must employ a technologist. If opulent service is required, I must employ a service professional, not merely an attractive woman to assist people at the door. The materials for assembly are as important as delivery.
And they’re always worth paying for in the end.