A Rolex watch. A case of exceptional wine. A second home in Tuscany. (Might I have a third in Paris?)
Healthy children. Nutritious meals. A family that loves you. (A good dentist.)
Are these luxuries?
What about friends who support you through tough times, or work that brings you meaning as well as paying the bills?
How many of these mentions do we take for granted? How many of us now view what was once fundamental as among life’s luxuries?
When I am asked what I consider luxurious — not quite the same as naming my little luxuries, but close enough — my first thoughts are of experiences of the most personal nature, yet universal. I recall the extraordinary sensation of holding my children in my arms when they were infant, their skin as velveteen as the petals of a rose, their sleep a gift of reassurance, their breathing, music to my maternal heart.
Beyond these bonds of babyhood, my sons have been the source of inexpressible joy. I admit to periods fraught with worry, yet I luxuriate in recollections of their discoveries and their laughter.
More tangible expressions of the sumptuous or splendid sort?
When asked what I consider luxurious, my mind goes to a few days on a far-off beach, sun soaking into my skin just enough to pink my cheeks and relax my overwrought brain, the frothy rush of foam tickling my toes, waves working their wondrous, rhythmic magic.
When asked what I consider luxurious, I can imagine dinner out whenever I might like (and no worry to the cost), meandering the bustling streets of the Left Bank (with no thought to schedule or agenda), sitting to share a beet salad looking out at the Seine… where somehow, it always tastes better.
And for dessert? An afternoon to wander through the Marais and try on chaussures… the next morning to dine in a romantic 17th century breakfast room… the coffee piping hot, the croissants fresh, the confiture, a marvel.
These little luxuries are surely more about the experience than any “thing” that may be obtained in the process.
Once, I might have conjured a luxury possession or two and coveted a designer dress. And when I first purchased an impeccable Givenchy skirt in my twenties — I felt absolutely divine.
Once, I might have longed for a quirky chandelier dripping in crystals to hang over my bathtub — very New Orleans chic — and even now the thought of it makes me smile.
Once, I might have dreamed of an entire room devoted to all the art I most adore, with ample space for shelves filled floor to ceiling with my favorite books.
These were, and perhaps still are, reflections of who I am, what sweetens my days and nights, what enhances my sense of self.
There was a time that the little luxuries I presented to myself were alien to my friends; I had no need of cars or baubles (and I even deferred my love for shoes), but if a small painting sang to me — and kept on with its mysterious, anguished, spirited, jubilant, notes of pleasure?
I would splurge. The “luxury” of an artwork became my trusted friend, my ally, my journey, my reminder of the power of creativity and imagination. Perhaps that same essence of luxury can be achieved by the mere presence of art that speaks to the spirit in the quiet of a wintry day, face to face with Dégas or Picasso or Macréau in a private place of beauty that I can never fully articulate, but that strikes me with the same grandeur of the soprano’s perfect pitch.
Occasionally, I page through the magazines that still arrive in my mailbox in all their glossy glory. I may find an Armani dress that I imagine tailored to my (challenging) diminutive size. I marvel at the design, at the fabric, at the “artfulness.” I wonder what it would be like to drop the kind of bank required, and to have the lifestyle in which such elegant attire is appropriate.
And then I look around at the riches in my seemingly tiny world. I see drawings by friends, my mother’s antique cupboard storing memories, books that have yielded lessons and delight. I see pictures of my children as babies, as boys with our sloppy mutt of a dog, as adolescents making foolish faces. I see marks above my head where my sons “enthusiastically” spun and flipped and tricked with Chinese yo-yo’s known as diabolos, grazing the surface of the ceiling in flight.I see our lives together and I hope for their fulfilling futures, even as I sense the years passing too quickly now.
Like most of us as we grow older, I know time to be a luxury we only fully appreciate when we have too little to give to what matters to us most.
No, not a Rolex watch. Not a case of exceptional wine. Not a home in Tuscany or Paris or a week’s waking to a tropical beach.
Instead — family in good health, friends I can count on, conversations with my sons, the smile of my lover as he takes my hand.
A life that feels meaningful.
Is that too serious? Too prosaic? Too uninspired?
Perhaps.
Someone I love spoke to me recently of masks, and I am all too familiar with the weight of bearing them. She spoke of the masks we are expected to hoist up and carry in order to deal with the world as expected: masks of humor when the spirit is sagging, of sociability that drains us when we are in need of a good cry, of detachment when the ache of empathy for a friend who needs comforting is so bone deep that we wish only to reach out and envelop them in our strength.
Perhaps if we let down the mask more often, if we didn’t feel we had to hide so much of ourselves, then we would all be lightened — encouraged to say “I’m feeling sad” or “I’m tired of trying” or simply, “Be with me, so I feel less alone.”
Of course I believe that we should respect the feelings of others and express ourselves with appropriate civility, politeness, awareness. Yet shouldn’t we still be able to be honest in who we are and how we are? Is that the true luxury? To feel free enough, strong enough, whole enough to be ourselves — even on the days when we are unquestionably emotional? To know that we can show our vulnerability, our imperfections, our stress, our missteps — and we all make them — without unfair judgment? To reach a stage in life as young as possible when we can fully embrace who we are on any given day — without shame, stigma, or apology?
Please stop by Splenderosa for the continuing conversation on life’s luxuries.
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THE VINTAGE CONTESSA says
YES, those are TRUE LUXURIES………. indeed!
YOU LIVE A LUXURIOUS LIFE.
PS. IN answer to your question to me OF COURSE YOU CAN!!!!
D. A. Wolf says
The riches that count. I agree, Contessa. 🙂
Penelope Bianchi says
I have read it three times. Can’t find the question for you. Please forward!!
XXOO
I adore this post! Splendorosa does such a great job of this! I would not be inspired to write nor read without Marsha! The beautiful Marsha!
Heather in Arles says
So beautifully, perfectly put and right down to the last sentence, exactly what I needed to hear today. Thank you, friend.
D. A. Wolf says
xo From my cozy writing space to yours, Heather…
Jennifer says
Yes! Those are the luxuries that matter. We are on the same page with luxury! What joy is there in anything without our loved ones? I’ll see you when you visit Contessa…I’m very close by, lucky me:) xo
D. A. Wolf says
Oh Jennifer! That would be a happy twofer! 😉 xo
Nath says
Oh you raise a wonderful topic here. “To reach a stage in life as young as possible when we can fully embrace who we are on any given day — without shame, stigma, or apology?” I think this is Happiness, not Luxury. We should simplify and leave the term luxury to anything over the top and barely affordable, anything we don’t *need* to survive.
But I agree, with a sad nod, that in a world of conformity, “me-too” pal pressure, fads, rankings and Instagram-driven lives even individuality *might* become a luxury.
D. A. Wolf says
Individuality does seem harder to “own” in a natural way, Nath. You’re so right. Always wonderful to hear from you!
Barbara says
Yes, in these ways I dwell in luxury – the time I spend, as you’ve said, in rich conversations, basking and languishing when I can in sunshine and surf and love. And health? Yes, indeed to health, especially as we age and must care for it a little more diligently. What a wonderful stop this was this morning.
D. A. Wolf says
So glad you stopped by, Barbara!
Missy Robinson says
Right now, the greatest luxury seems like it would be unhurried time…to garden, to putter around my own space, to read, to explore the creative urges that get pushed aside for more practical necessities like dinner, laundry, sleep.
I do understand that I live in greater luxury than most in this world and I work to be content knowing that the addition of “things” rarely brings greater satisfaction.
Rudri Bhatt Patel @ Being Rudri says
So much of those everyday delights represent how I view luxury. Lovely post, Wolf.
Glamour Drops says
Luxury does seem to be an incredibly subjective word, as Pamela pointed out in her post, and rather more about what now brings people happiness, as a comparative reflection on what used to be perceived to bring them happiness. Experiences rather than things, as you say, seems to be what everybody is chasing and valuing.
Perhaps we really do need to rewrite the meaning of the word, to reflect changing times and values.
Design Chic says
Luxuries indeed, and time to enjoy family, friends and good health. Such a beautiful post and wonderful reminder to us all…
vicki archer says
Luxury broken down and defined brilliantly.
Now I find that luxury is having less than I once wanted but it means and feels like so much more.
Maturity is a wonderful thing… xv
Pamela says
You illustrate so perfectly the wisdom that comes with time. The luxuries we love today are indeed so different from the ones we longed for in our twenties. And so much richer as well. Lovely.
xo
Jeanne McKay Hartmann says
I always love your thoughtful and well-written takes on our topics! Couldn’t agree more that luxury is something that changes and evolves – and means something different for everyone. There was a time that my definition of luxury was a pretty row of dresses and shoes to wear to my job… now I look at those dresses and wonder where I can possibly wear them. For me the greatest luxury is the freedom to do what I love… to travel to the places that inspire me… to have the time to spend with the people who make every day a bit better and more beautiful.
Thanks for another wonderful post! XO
Curtis says
To me the biggest luxury in life is time.