I've often described my experiences of living a more consumerist life as empty and hollow.
Some of my exes were either very wealthy themselves or the sons of much, much wealthier people. Getting used to luxury consumerism never felt good, necessarily, in fact, it always made me feel rather agitated.
When you spend such an enormous premium for what is usually not a proportional increase in quality, it invites a sense of dissatisfied entitlement.
I hate that. I hate paying an astronomical premium for VIP services or luxury brand products only to be bothered by their failure to live up to the premium.
VIP travel perks don't feel sufficient for the premium, Hermes store service isn't as good as Louis Vuitton store service despite being ten times the price for a purse. Louboutin heels come in a disappointingly pedestrian beige shoe box. The $600/head tasting menu with $400/head wine pairing doesn't have the wine you expected in stock and leans too much on truffles to try and justify the price.
Even when you can afford it, it feels like paying for disappointment. Even when someone else is paying for it, it so often feels like you're being set up to feel let down.
People get nasty and resentful when they feel they've overpaid for something, and that's just how a lot of luxury feels.
No one feels good paying $17 for nuts from a hotel mini bar, even if they can afford it. And that's kind of a metaphor for how so much of the luxury market feels.
The "ooh, it feels so fancy to be able to afford this" wears off pretty quick. Then it rapidly becomes "I can't believe the VIP parking is on gravel, these heels probably cost more than the valet makes in a month."
