VIP status is slanged for, those “very important people” who were guaranteed a private table because they occupied the top of the social pyramid. It is clear that among them there was some starving man who acted as a flatterer, entertaining those who paid for the cruise and making their egos shine. Of course, celebrities also assumed this rank, to the point that, as soon as they emerged from anonymity, they already toasted with ease with Dom Pérignon. It was not the ancestry that mattered but the success. But being a VIP ended up losing its luster, vulgarized by the pink press and trivialized by those who thought that having a plug with the goalkeeper was already a sign of status.
The hangover of logos and egos of the nineties was taken advantage of by the street. Rappers went global with their tattoos and a Vuitton cap. And luxury brands, far from frowning, began to design collections of hooded sweatshirts and leggings. The idea of ??distinction was being reformed and, at the same time, a new Olympus of celebrities was emerging that made the change of record evident.
The comfortable and varied lounges of the world’s airports, for example, began to be called clubs, a much older name – and which is used for everything, whether it’s ping-pong or the bar of waitresses – but with a link of more obvious belonging.
Today, people have become customers, segmented by what they spend. For the privileged market they are no longer vip but vic (very important customer). The term explains their consumer activity, and also their rights. It is estimated that there are 40 million people in the world who can waste in their air. Yes, they are the ones who buy the most expensive of all, the handbags of more than three hundred thousand pounds at Sotheby’s, the Chaumet headbands of half a million euros, or the artworks of Damien Hirst or Lita hair
While in Europe the consumption of second-hand clothes and outlets has tripled, in the countries of the new world only exclusive things satisfy, without moral, social or ecological dilemmas. To the extent that luxury handbags are the new brick: Chanel has tripled the price of its 225 model in five years, and today it costs 9,500 euros.
Western capitalism uses trade distribution networks to perpetuate itself by creating desire. And if in the last century the United States and Japan were the apple of their eye, in this one the Chinese hurricane has arrived – after the Russian thaw – and is now looking complacently towards the Middle East.
When a couple of Europeans arrive in the lobby of a hotel in Dubai, for example, there is silence. They are a rare breed, mixed with women covered in black abayas and men in turbans. The couple dresses with discretion: they practice the silent luxury typical of those who come from the spas of the world – as Ramon Aymerich wrote so precisely in these pages. And they are as exotic as the buttery skins of Hermès. For this reason, Bernard Arnault and François Pinault are the seekers of a new gold: virgin communities of vics in Nigeria, South Africa or Indonesia, countries where a clientele as avid and loyal as they are dazzled is beginning to emerge.
Among the global nouveau riche, that old tradition coined by the European bourgeoisie of the 20th century is back: gifting their puppies with a gold watch when they come of age. Even if they live modestly, when they see themselves as owners of such an exclusive object, they believe they are acquiring power. They still don’t know the tedium of hyper-consumerism. Nor do they know that luxury is the new opium.
