“Luxury” is one of those words that’s been overused into abstraction. It gets slapped on everything from bottled water to throw pillows, until it means almost nothing—except, of course, that it costs more. For some, luxury still conjures marble lobbies, hushed voices, and things you’re not meant to touch. But that version is losing relevance fast.

In 2025, the most interesting luxury brands aren’t shouting about prestige; they’re quietly rewriting the rules. They’re less concerned with tradition for tradition’s sake and more focused on redefining what value, quality, and leadership look like in a culture that’s more fragmented and self-aware than ever.

That’s because modern luxury isn’t one thing—it’s a spectrum, coded differently across categories and deeply influenced by the psychology of the people buying into it. Today’s luxury consumers aren’t just buying products. They’re buying emotion, identity, self-expression, and in many cases, proof that their values are being met with as much care as their spending power.

This piece unpacks the psychology behind luxury consumption today: who’s buying, what’s driving their decisions, and how brands can respond with more than just polish. Because in a space that promises so much—craft, innovation, identity—the brands that endure are the ones that actually deliver on it.

Who Buys Luxury Brands?

Forget the monocle-wearing tycoon stereotype. Forget, even, the designer celebrity figure, influencer or creator. Today’s luxury consumer is far more diverse, far more digital, and far more deliberate. Millennials, in particular, are taking over the luxury market—not with loud declarations of wealth, but with calculated, values-led spending. According to Forbes, 51% of millennials plan to increase luxury spending this year, while 67% of Gen X and 80% of Baby Boomers plan to spend less.

Why? Millennials are in their prime earning years, and unlike the generations before them, they grew up with a cultural narrative that emphasizes experience, self-expression, and ethics over accumulation. They are less interested in brand prestige and more attuned to what that brand represents. A luxury item must be more than beautiful or expensive—it must mean something.

Case in point: Shinta Mani Wild, a luxury eco-camp in Cambodia. Guests aren’t just paying for glamping with chandeliers; they’re funding anti-poaching patrols and forest preservation. It’s a safari, yes—but one where indulgence and activism co-exist. That tension—luxury with conscience—is what defines the modern buyer.

Meanwhile, Gen Z, while still coming into spending power, is already shaping luxury’s future through influence. They aren’t big on brand loyalty, but if your values and aesthetics align with theirs, they’ll champion you harder than any paid campaign. Brands like Telfar (with the tagline “not for you—for everyone”) have cracked the code, proving that democratized luxury doesn’t dilute desire—it redefines it.

Why Do People Buy Luxury Brands?

Luxury purchases aren’t logical—they’re deeply emotional. People don’t buy luxury items because they need them. They buy them to commemorate, reward, and assert something about themselves. A Cartier bracelet isn’t just a bracelet; it’s a symbol of arrival, of personal achievement, or maybe just a moment of hard-earned indulgence after a tough year.

This emotional resonance is where heritage brands shine. Their histories act as cultural anchors—owning a piece feels like owning part of a legacy. That’s why someone might choose a Montblanc pen for signing important documents: it isn’t the ink quality (though that helps), it’s what the object says about the moment.

Even lesser-known examples follow this logic. Consider Masseria Moroseta, a minimalist luxury agriturismo in Puglia, Italy. Its appeal isn’t five-star pomp; it’s the feeling of effortless elegance, the silent story of knowing where to go without needing a concierge. Guests aren’t buying just a stay—they’re buying self-affirmation.

Then there’s the “treat yourself” psychology. Modern life is chaotic. Inflation, burnout, climate anxiety—people are looking for ways to exert control, to mark small wins. For some, that’s a limited-edition Loewe bag. For others, it’s a $40 candle with branding that feels like a private joke. In both cases, luxury becomes a balm—emotional first, transactional second.

Desirability of Luxury Brands

No longer exclusively a visual code, desirability now sits at the intersection of function, story, and symbol. In a landscape flooded with “premium” everything—from oat milk to toothbrushes—what actually makes something feel luxurious has shifted. It’s no longer just gold-plated, it’s gold-plated and made by someone who’s spent 40 years learning how to shape it.

Take the Hermès Birkin again—a familiar case study for a reason. Every Birkin is handmade by a single artisan in France who signs their work discreetly inside the bag. That signature isn’t branding; it’s accountability, intimacy, and time crystallized. Desirability here is a product of process, not just positioning.

Similarly, consider Czapek & Cie, a revived Swiss watchmaker whose entire sales process is based on pre-orders. Buyers wait up to 12 months for a timepiece, and updates come directly from the watchmakers. It’s a microcosm of new-era desirability: the longer it takes, the more intentional the purchase feels. Mass immediacy is out. Anticipation is the new exclusivity.

Durability and value retention are also central. A well-kept Rolex Submariner not only holds its price, it often appreciates. The same goes for Fendi Baguettes in rare leathers or limited Patek Philippe complications. These aren’t just indulgences—they’re liquid assets wrapped in craftsmanship.

Technological and environmental advances are increasingly shaping desire too. Vollebak, a British brand making “futureproof” outerwear with graphene and ceramic, sells to a luxury audience without the usual aesthetic trappings. Their value? Innovation, function, and materials with a sci-fi edge. In this way, desirability becomes cerebral—it’s about knowing why something is valuable, not just what it looks like.

Luxury Brand Perception

Luxury brands are no longer simply viewed as status signifiers—they’re identity validators, cultural storytellers, and sometimes, even ideological partners. In 2025, the perception of a luxury brand is shaped less by the logo and more by the ecosystem it represents.

Aesop, for example—now a staple of minimalist bathrooms everywhere. Technically, it’s a skincare brand, but its cult status has nothing to do with the products’ efficacy alone. Aesop’s power lies in its perception—subtle, intellectual, globally literate. Walking into an Aesop store doesn’t feel like shopping; it feels like entering a gallery. It’s what not yelling luxury looks like, and that restraint has made it aspirational.

Or look at Louis Vuitton. Once a travel goods house, now a shape-shifting cultural force, they’ve mastered the art of narrative through their “Core Values” campaign and collaborations with everyone from Yayoi Kusama to Pharrell. It’s luxury by osmosis—not just bought, but absorbed via story, art, and association.

Then there are brands reframing what it means to be elite. Bode, the New York-based label that repurposes antique textiles into one-of-one garments, sells luxury as nostalgia, care, and sustainability. The perception is intimate: not “look at me,” but “this is mine, and there’s a story behind it.”

Crucially, luxury brand perception now hinges on who else is wearing it. The new prestige lies in being part of the right tribe—fashion-forward but not try-hard, ethically aware but not self-righteous. Brands that can balance these tensions win long-term mindshare.

Exclusivity of Luxury Products

Exclusivity isn’t just about access—it’s about designed desire. The art of making someone want something they can’t have (yet) is what keeps luxury aspirational. But the rules of exclusivity have changed. It’s no longer about gates and velvet ropes; it’s about intelligent restraint and strategic opacity.

Take the invitation-only Noma Kyoto residency—when the world’s most famous restaurant went nomadic in Japan for a limited series of dinners. Bookings opened quietly. The site was bare. No PR blitz, no email blasts. And yet, it sold out instantly. Exclusivity wasn’t enforced—it was understood.

Then there’s the power of controlled distribution. Hermès again doesn’t do e-commerce for most of its high-end products. You can’t buy a Birkin or Kelly online, and if you ask for one in-store, you’re likely to be “offered” something else first. You’re being vetted—not in a snobbish way, but in a slow dance that builds value through suspense.

Even tech brands are playing the game. Nothing, the design-forward phone brand, launched limited drops with physical pick-up points in London and New York. Not traditionally luxurious, but undeniably exclusive. The product becomes a proxy for subculture, which itself becomes the luxury.

Modern exclusivity is no longer exclusion for its own sake—it’s about aligning values and making access feel earned. It’s no longer “you can’t sit with us,” but “if you know, you know.”

Using Luxury Products for Self-Expression

Luxury has become a tool for autobiography. It’s no longer just about what something costs, but what it communicates. In a world where identity is curated as carefully as any wardrobe, the right luxury item is a personal press release.

Customization, provenance, and symbolism are how that difference is expressed. The return of Goyard to cultural relevance, for instance, isn’t about its materials—it’s about the hand-painted monogram, a visual middle finger to mass production. It says, “This was made for me, and only me.”

Luxury’s role in relationships is another overlooked angle. A bespoke fragrance from Le Labo, gifted and co-created, becomes a marker of shared memory. A custom suit from Huntsman on Savile Row is less about cut and more about legacy—passed down, altered, imbued with familial pride. These aren’t purchases; they’re intimate artifacts.

Luxury also gives permission for public experimentation. Think of Gucci under Alessandro Michele: maximalist, gender-fluid, deeply eccentric. Wearing it wasn’t just a fashion choice—it was a declaration that you’d opted out of minimalism and into a theatrical version of selfhood.

But it’s not all show. Sometimes the expression is quietly defiant. A woman in a Loro Piana cashmere coat isn’t peacocking; she’s choosing stealth wealth, flexing taste over trends. Whether loud or soft, the common thread is this: the luxury object becomes a mouthpiece. And in 2025, everyone has something to say.

Luxury Brands and Brand Loyalty

In luxury, loyalty isn’t bought with points—it’s built through feeling. Not just a preference, but a bond. Luxury buyers don’t return for discounts; they return for the reassurance that someone gets them.

Chanel, for instance, doesn’t reinvent itself with every season. Instead, it plays the long game. The codes—pearls, quilting, No. 5—don’t scream innovation. But they whisper continuity. Chanel customers don’t just love the products; they trust the brand’s emotional consistency.

More dynamic examples? Look at Aman Resorts. Their “no logo, no clutter” ethos applies across continents, but every Aman feels tuned to its environment. Regular guests aren’t just staying at hotels—they’re joining a private worldview. Once you’re in the Aman ecosystem, it’s hard to go back to mass luxury. That’s loyalty, not through repetition, but recognition.

Then there’s the experience layer. LVMH’s La Samaritaine in Paris doesn’t just sell Dior—it offers private fittings, cultural programming, and a salon for top clients. It’s retail as relationship-building. Luxury loyalty is often invisible to outsiders, but deeply felt by those inside.

Bespoke options, early access, handwritten notes, private dinners—these are not gimmicks. They are rituals of care. And they work, because at this level, what the customer really wants is to be seen as more than a transaction.

Matter Of Form is a design consultancy specialising in brand strategy, CX and digital innovation. Designing what's next for timeless brands through a deep, pragmatic understanding of the high-net-worth consumer. See how we can work together by getting in touch with one of our consultants via [email protected].