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In 1899， the economist Thorstein Veblen2 observed that silver spoons and corsets were markers of elite social position. He coined the phrase “conspicuous consumption” to denote the way that material objects were paraded3 as indicators of social position and status. More than 100 years later， conspicuous consumption is still part of the contemporary capitalist landscape， and yet today， luxury goods are significantly more accessible than in Veblen’s time. This deluge4 of accessible luxury is a function of the massproduction economy of the 20th century， the outsourcing of production to China， and the cultivation of emerging markets where labour and materials are cheap. At the same time， we’ve seen the arrival of a middle-class consumer market that demands more material goods at cheaper price points.
However， the democratisation of consumer goods has made them far less useful as a means of displaying status. In the face of rising social inequality， both the rich and the middle classes own fancy TVs and nice handbags. They both lease SUVs， take airplanes， and go on cruises. On the surface， the ostensible5 consumer objects favoured by these two groups no longer reside in two completely different universes.
Given that everyone can now buy designer handbags and new cars， the rich have taken to using much more tacit signifiers of their social position. Yes， oligarchs6 and the superrich still show off their wealth with yachts and Bentleys and gated mansions. But the dramatic changes in elite spending are driven by a well-to-do， educated elite， or what I call the “aspirational class”. This new elite cements its status through prizing knowledge and building cultural capital， not to mention the spending habits that go with it—preferring to spend on services， education and human-capital investments over purely material goods. These new status behaviours are what I call “inconspicuous consumption”.
The rise of the aspirational class and its consumer habits is perhaps most salient7 in the United States. The US Consumer Expenditure Survey data reveals that， since 2007， the country’s top 1 per cent （people earning upwards of $300，000 per year） are spending significantly less on material goods， while middle-income groups （earning approximately $70，000 per year） are spending the same， and their trend is upward. Eschewing8 an overt materialism， the rich are investing significantly more in education， retirement and health—all of which are immaterial， yet cost many times more than any handbag a middle-income consumer might buy. The vast chasm9 between middle-income and top 1 per cent spending on education in the US is particularly concerning because， unlike material goods， education has become more and more expensive in recent decades. Thus， there is a greater need to devote financial resources to education to be able to afford it at all. According to Consumer Expenditure Survey data from 2003—2013， the price of college tuition increased 80 per cent， while the cost of women’s apparel10 increased by just 6 per cent over the same period.
While much inconspicuous consumption is extremely expensive， it shows itself through less expensive but equally pronounced signaling—from reading The Economist to buying pasture-raised eggs. Inconspicuous consumption in other words， has become a shorthand11 through which the new elite signal their cultural capital to one another. In lockstep with the invoice for private preschool comes the knowledge that one should pack the lunchbox with quinoa crackers and organic fruit.12 One might think these culinary13 practices are a commonplace example of modern-day motherhood， but one only needs to step outside the upper-middleclass bubbles of the coastal cities of the US to observe very different lunch-bag norms， consisting of processed snacks and practically no fruit.
Knowing these seemingly inexpensive social norms is itself a rite of passage14 into today’s aspirational class. And that rite is far from costless： The Economist subscription might set one back only $100， but the awareness to subscribe and be seen with it tucked in one’s bag is likely the iterative result of spending time in elite social milieus and expensive educational institutions that prize this publication and discuss its contents.15
Perhaps most importantly， the new investment in inconspicuous consumption reproduces privilege in a way that previous conspicuous consumption could not. Knowing which New Yorker articles to reference or what small talk16 to engage in at the local farmers’ market enables and displays the acquisition of cultural capital， thereby providing entry into social networks that， in turn， help to pave the way to elite jobs， key social and professional contacts， and private schools. In short， inconspicuous consumption confers social mobility.
More profoundly， investment in education， healthcare and retirement has a notable impact on consumers’ quality of life， and also on the future life chances of the next generation. Inconspicuous consumption—whether breastfeeding17 or education—is a means to a better quality of life and improved social mobility for one’s own children， whereas conspicuous consumption is merely an end in itself—simply ostentation. For today’s aspirational class， inconspicuous consumption choices secure and preserve social status， even if they do not necessarily display it.
However， the democratisation of consumer goods has made them far less useful as a means of displaying status. In the face of rising social inequality， both the rich and the middle classes own fancy TVs and nice handbags. They both lease SUVs， take airplanes， and go on cruises. On the surface， the ostensible5 consumer objects favoured by these two groups no longer reside in two completely different universes.
Given that everyone can now buy designer handbags and new cars， the rich have taken to using much more tacit signifiers of their social position. Yes， oligarchs6 and the superrich still show off their wealth with yachts and Bentleys and gated mansions. But the dramatic changes in elite spending are driven by a well-to-do， educated elite， or what I call the “aspirational class”. This new elite cements its status through prizing knowledge and building cultural capital， not to mention the spending habits that go with it—preferring to spend on services， education and human-capital investments over purely material goods. These new status behaviours are what I call “inconspicuous consumption”.
The rise of the aspirational class and its consumer habits is perhaps most salient7 in the United States. The US Consumer Expenditure Survey data reveals that， since 2007， the country’s top 1 per cent （people earning upwards of $300，000 per year） are spending significantly less on material goods， while middle-income groups （earning approximately $70，000 per year） are spending the same， and their trend is upward. Eschewing8 an overt materialism， the rich are investing significantly more in education， retirement and health—all of which are immaterial， yet cost many times more than any handbag a middle-income consumer might buy. The vast chasm9 between middle-income and top 1 per cent spending on education in the US is particularly concerning because， unlike material goods， education has become more and more expensive in recent decades. Thus， there is a greater need to devote financial resources to education to be able to afford it at all. According to Consumer Expenditure Survey data from 2003—2013， the price of college tuition increased 80 per cent， while the cost of women’s apparel10 increased by just 6 per cent over the same period.
While much inconspicuous consumption is extremely expensive， it shows itself through less expensive but equally pronounced signaling—from reading The Economist to buying pasture-raised eggs. Inconspicuous consumption in other words， has become a shorthand11 through which the new elite signal their cultural capital to one another. In lockstep with the invoice for private preschool comes the knowledge that one should pack the lunchbox with quinoa crackers and organic fruit.12 One might think these culinary13 practices are a commonplace example of modern-day motherhood， but one only needs to step outside the upper-middleclass bubbles of the coastal cities of the US to observe very different lunch-bag norms， consisting of processed snacks and practically no fruit.
Knowing these seemingly inexpensive social norms is itself a rite of passage14 into today’s aspirational class. And that rite is far from costless： The Economist subscription might set one back only $100， but the awareness to subscribe and be seen with it tucked in one’s bag is likely the iterative result of spending time in elite social milieus and expensive educational institutions that prize this publication and discuss its contents.15
Perhaps most importantly， the new investment in inconspicuous consumption reproduces privilege in a way that previous conspicuous consumption could not. Knowing which New Yorker articles to reference or what small talk16 to engage in at the local farmers’ market enables and displays the acquisition of cultural capital， thereby providing entry into social networks that， in turn， help to pave the way to elite jobs， key social and professional contacts， and private schools. In short， inconspicuous consumption confers social mobility.
More profoundly， investment in education， healthcare and retirement has a notable impact on consumers’ quality of life， and also on the future life chances of the next generation. Inconspicuous consumption—whether breastfeeding17 or education—is a means to a better quality of life and improved social mobility for one’s own children， whereas conspicuous consumption is merely an end in itself—simply ostentation. For today’s aspirational class， inconspicuous consumption choices secure and preserve social status， even if they do not necessarily display it.