Would You Spend Over £1,500 on Jelly Sandals?
On luxury brand storytelling, being a luxury sales associate, and assessing the criteria that a luxury item must meet before it is added to cart.
Image via Pinterest.
During my final year of university, I took up a part time job alongside my studies and internships working as a sales associate at D&G, the now defunct sister brand of Dolce and Gabbana. I often explain to people how that job, despite being only one day per week, was one of the most transformative professional experiences of my life. Most people don’t understand this, most likely due my sharp pivot to pursue corporate law shortly after graduating, but there are certain things about luxury brands (and the business of fashion in general) that a person just might not ever learn unless they’ve been in the thick of it for themselves.
For example, as a luxury sales associate, I would receive regular training on the new pieces that were introduced the store by the buyers. We learned why these pieces were specifically selected for our UK client base (over and above other pieces from the designers’ latest collection which appealed more strongly to clients in other markets), how and why these pieces would likely connect with said client base, and how we were to communicate the stories behind each collection to specific client categories.
I learned about top spenders: who they were and where they were from, why they loved the brand, and where else they would shop. I learned how to build client relationships, and met so many fascinating people — from international students to sheikhs and public figures that would come in to be dressed for PR purposes ahead of key events. And during quiet periods we would dress up in the pieces to understand the appeal for ourselves.
Having spent my prior student years working part-time at American Apparel, this shift from high-street to luxury sales was fascinating. I understood that most clients (save for the odd handful that would regularly spend tens or even hundreds of thousands of pounds without so much as blinking) needed to understand the story behind a piece before buying. They would often ask about the inspiration(s) behind the collections. They sometimes wanted to understand the recurring themes in the pieces, and how they were expressed — whether through colour, print, shape or fabric. We shared the stories behind the choices of technique, or use of appliqué, or of hardware on an accesory. This, it seemed, was part of what made that product (and overall shopping experience) feel special, exclusive, and ultimately luxurious, thus worthy of the elevated pricepoint.
I loved this process. It felt almost magical to be able to tell a genuine story to a new or existing customer, in just the right way so as to appeal to their very particular wants and needs, and see that story land in real-time. I get it, their eyes would say. Clients were not only buying the products in question (typically made with high quality materials and excellent craftsmanship), but also into the brand — what it said to them, and possibly what owning a piece of the brand said about them as well.
Perhaps as a result of my experiences above, I have a personal vendetta against the “luxury basic”. While my love for fashion and a beautifully-executed outfit knows few bounds, I often find it near impossible to justify why a person might spend a premium for cotton or polyester basics when there is no clear injection of craftsmanship and/or use of quality materials present. Thus the question I ask myself is this: can true luxury be felt exclusively through an applied brand name or logo?
Enter the Luxury Purchase Decision Matrix (which I’ll call the LPDM hereafter): the name I’ve given to the thought process I use when deciding whether or not to purchase a luxury item. It goes without saying that this process is almost entirely subjective: people can and should part with their money however they please, however I strongly believe that there is some merit to my method.
To summarise, the luxury item in question must meet at least two* of the following three criteria, otherwise it’s a hard “no” (and said item is swiftly removed from my virtual basket and/or in-person wishlist):
1. High-Quality Fabrics
Loro Piana Ida Bomber Jacket (from the Vicuña collection), RRP £17,795. Image via loropiana.com.
Is the brand using the finest leather available to man? Is the garment made of the most excellent quality cashmere or silk, or does it incorporate any other undeniably high-value materials?
*a product will usually always “pass” the LPDM Test if it meets this singular criteria (where numbers 2 and 3 below must always be accompanied by an additional criteria in order to pass the test overall). It is worth pointing out here that high quality fabrics alone do not automatically constitute “luxury”. Well-made products, whether or not from a luxury fashion house, are often inherently “premium”, with the focus being on quality and functionality, compared to “luxury” items which often also rely more heavily on aspiration, exclusivity, heritage and emotional appeal to justify its elevated price point (as discussed above).
2. Excellent Craftsmanship
Loewe draped jacket in nappa lambskin. RRP £4,800. Image via loewe.com.
Is there something undeniably special about the way in which the item has been made (e.g. its composition, or its cut)? Has the brand incorporated crafting techniques (e.g. weaving, pleating etc.) that would be near impossible to replicate en masse and/or to otherwise meet a lower price point? Is there something ultimately unique about how the fabric itself is crafted?
3. Strong Brand Value / Goodwill
Louis Vuitton Courrier Lozine 115 Trunk, RRP £39,500. Image via uk.louisvuitton.com.
Does the brand name hold signficant weight? Perhaps the brand boasts a long heritage, or is a comparatively new house that can punch significantly above its weight. Is the brand “buzzy” — but justifiably so? Ultimately, does “luxury” rightly come to mind when considering the brand name?
How to Apply the LPDM:
Every season or so, a luxury brand typically rolls out an “it” item of clothing that makes me wonder if the brand is playing games to see how much additional revenue they can generate simply by slapping their brand name and/or logo onto a wardrobe basic. A few recent examples across the clothing, accessories and jewellery categories are as follows:
The Loewe Tank Top
Image via loewe.com
Released in Spring 2023, this tank top was absolutely *everywhere*. At one point, it was practically impossible to scroll through any social media platform without seeing at least one influencer or vaguely “trendy” person wearing this tank top in a photo dump, IG Reels video or TikTok video post.
Retailing at £325 (as of June 2025), the 97% cotton and 3% elastane piece is differentiated from its simpler nondescript alternatives by nothing more than a centre-aligned interlocking Loewe “L” logo. As someone with professional expertise in intellectual property law, I can’t help but think that most (note: not all) people that are willing to pay for a vest top like this one are mostly paying to co-opt the value/goodwill held in the anagram L trade mark logo (Criteria #3)*. Without the application of any notable craftsmanship (Criteria #2) or use of premium quality materials (Criteria #1), purchases of this type typically always fail the LPDM Test for me.
*A brief caveat: if of course the cost of a £300 cotton vest top is for you the equivalent of spending £1 of a pack of gum at the supermarket, then the above is unlikely to apply to you.
The Jil Sander T-Shirt
image via netaporter.com.
Special mention also goes to the Jil Sander logo t-shirt, retailing at £330. I have to say, I was very nearly swayed into purchasing this piece, however this is more to do with the various ways in which I have seen it styled than the item itself. I do personally love a boxy white t-shirt, however as above I *personally* don’t consider this brand name/logo feature strong enough to elevate what is otherwise a(n admittedly nicely cut and weighted) basic white t-shirt.
As above, this lacks significant craftsmanship and use of expensive materials in my opinion, thus failing the LPDM Test.
The Row Mara Flat Sandal
image via vogue.com.
Absolutely nobody can convince me that spending over £1,000 Great British Pounds on woven plastic is normal.
Despite no longer being available to purchase via The Row’s website, the Mara sandal currently retails for over £1,600 on luxury resale platforms such as Vestiaire Collective.
Perhaps for obvious reasons, this does not pass the LPDM Test for me.
Issey Miyake Pleats Please collection
Issey Miyake Pleats Please padded pleats coat, RRP £1,140. Image via uk.isseymiyake.com.
When I first discovered that almost all of the Pleats Please collection was made with 100% polyester, I think I audibly gasped. After further investigation however, I learned that the decision to use polyester was an intentional one; polyester is one of the only materials that can hold permanent pleats following regular wear and cleaning. As an aside, if you’re chronically online, you’ll likely have been invested in the various debates on whether or not there is such a thing as “premium polyester”.
Issey Miyake pleats are a great example of how a clothing item can still pass the LPDM Test despite not using what would generally be considered to be a “premium” material. With undeniable craftsmanship, strong brand value and goodwill, Issey Miyake Pleats Please gets a “yes” from me.
Summary
It’s not lost on me that the LPDM Test would be viewed entirely differently to a client not unlike the ones that I would meet during my brief time as a luxury sales associate. In those shoppers’ (proverbial) shoes, buying an almost £20k vicuña fabric bomber jacket would, to the occasional luxury shopper, feel a lot like buying £100 trousers from COS on the way home from the office. Not nothing, but not something, either. That said, I think I will always strongly believe in the power of quality materials and craftsmanship, with a sprinkling of storytelling and the offer of a luxury experience overall, over and above a simple logo application to a basic fabric.
Perhaps my only exception to the LPDM rules is Louis Vuitton — despite the fact that most of the brand’s handbags and “small leather goods” items are largely made of canvas, I’ll always have a soft spot for the LV monogram. But as I said — entirely subjective.
How do you consider or justify your luxury purchases before buying? Let’s discuss on TikTok or via Instagram (@beinghumandoingthings).
Great read! I find it interesting how wealth influences the logic of the LPDM, so I ask: when money isn't a factor, what guides discernment? Is it taste? Cultural capital? or something else entirely.