“(…) We can forgive a man for making a useful thing as long as he does not admire it. The only excuse for making a useless thing is that one admires it intensely. All art is quite useless” – the dandy par excellence Oscar Wilde wrote in XIX century.
What if art was meant to be luxury in the last decades?
We usually link luxe to items – the Chanel bag from which you pull out your I-Phone 7, the Bulgari ring shining on your finger while texting, the Riva yacht for your vacations. They may be different at first sight, but I swear they do have something in common. In fact, they all look amazing and are high-refined and quite expensive. None of them is part of a kit for survival, but “Who cares? – you may say – It makes me feel special”. Last but not least, we are talking about goods – I mean, they are supposed to be touched and generally detected by senses. Actually, we need to experience luxury – and not necessarily to show it off.
Being a state of mind, luxury could be affordable even if you are not a Kardashian.
To a restless person like me, it consists in benefiting from time. Time to be spent in cultivating your interests – almost abusing of each second you have. Time to discover – who you are, where is your corner in the world or whether you should keep traveling like a gipsy. Time to research – luxury’s best friend is often a confident extravagance. Time to be wondered by Beauty – a faith for us who want to take part to the luxury market.
After all, I am sorry Mr. Wilde: nowadays luxury may be not as useless as art was.