On Luxury

It seems hedonistic to write about Luxury - in the sense of a Louis Vuitton bag and some Manolo shoes, it is also boring. Better to buy Vogue or Harper´s Bazaar for that.
True and real luxury is something quite different and elusive - difficult to recognize and once learned and tasted, never forgotten. It is a certain flair; an attitude; a being-in-the-knowing; quite secret sometimes; never ostentatious. Not to be bought with money - definitely. Sorry for the Beckham Family...
True and deep-going luxury is something very different and has indeed nothing to do with money - or at least after a certain level, it is not any longer possible to buy it with money - you can throw so much cash at it as you like, if you do not know how it looks and feels, you will never find it.

And one advantage: It cannot be taken away easily from someone who knows what I am talking about.

Sounds a bit like the fox and the green grapes, you will say - she has no cash, but knows about Luxury, ha ha ha. But: Indeed, I do.

And now there will be no sermon about how happy we should be to have running water in our bathrooms and heating in winter. Closely viewed, those appliances were the summit of luxury still 80 years ago - only the super-rich could afford the personal and the means to supply generously feline wellbeing in their homes. Just remember all those american heiresses who in the 1920ies married into tremendously cold english castles and whose everlasting heritage is the installation of bathrooms and central heating? THIS was a clash of Luxuries indeed: paid  decoration hermits in the park against neverending hot water. Just read Edith Sitwell.

No, real real luxury is something more discreet. And reckless, careless. Sometimes almost haughty. The "not necessity" - only possible for the one who has had everything and can decline, out of knowing and not out of need to proof something.

As it transpires more and more, time is also becoming rapidly a great a luxury - during the last 50 years the fad was, not to have time, i.e. to be important, powerful and jetsetty. This is no longer the case.
People invite again to their homes, do their cooking themselves, some even know the chicken they cook by name. Reading a story to your children yourself instead of a nanny is luxury. To drink wine only, when it is a good one, is another. Drinking champagne for the whole meal. Having fresh flowers in the house. Fresh flowers in the bathroom. A window in the bathroom. Playing an instrument. Painting. A room for oneself. A good piece of soap. Friends. The luxury of having true and everlasting friendships....  Marrying from home, not in a hotel or rented castle is luxury pure. Eating good chocolate, whenever it comes in your way. The feeling of loving and being loved. A good exhibition, with wonderful works of Art - to walk leisurely through it, best in good company, and have a chat about life and its beauty. A good and perfect fitting pair of shoes. The ideal lipstick, which makes you feel 1000 pounds/minute. A good scent. A warm bathroom. Freshly ironed bedlinnen. A place to live, which is home. Space. Quiet. A bedroom facing east, to have the sun in the morning. Coffee and a cigarette with a friend in a lovely café in the beautiful streets of our towns. An old joke shared for 20 years, which still makes you smile. A book read 10000 times, known by heart and still a pleasure to take it in your hands. Travelling by train in an almost empty carriage. Silence. Working in the garden. Waiting for 5 minutes before getting out of bed in the morning. Sitting under an old tree, drinking good tea. Laughing and conversing with friends. Old and young. Sitting in the park with a friend and watching the children play. Walking a dog.
Freedom to do what one would love to do. Looking stupid in the air. Old whisky. A fountain pen. Getting a letter. Looking at old fotographs. Having memories which make you smile....

Time to think.

I could go on and on. But my point is to prove, that real luxury is not dependent on money.
But money is NICE. Ok. Nevertheless..