Published in the San Diego Union-Tribune, July 31, 2023
by Neil Senturia
My dad was a radiologist, reasonably successful, highly respected at the university and the hospital, and for his entire life, he wore a simple Timex watch. Metal band, plain face. He only owned one watch.
Today that is downright un-American. I love it when Vanity Fair or Bloomberg does a feature on watches. There are timeless beauties ranging in price from the high five figures to a few hundred thousand.
I understand art and value and collecting. I know these are not built to only tell time. Frankly, if you can afford one, you can also show up late to the party, and no one will say a word.
But before we dive into the pool of plenty, for sure, let’s also have a callout for women’s handbags. You could use a tote bag or a simple fanny pack, but if you really want to hold that lipstick, a modest Birkin bag costs around $20,000 up to $250,000. Ladies, it is just a bag. Gentlemen, it is just a watch.
And Neil, you’re an idiot. That is not what they are at all.
A recent article by professors Deborah Small, formerly of Wharton but now at Yale; Alixandra Barasch, INSEAD Business School; and Shalena Srna, University of Michigan, calls into question “luxury logos” and the impact they may have on your perception as a team player in your company. They contend that signaling status and wealth can be detrimental to your job (unless you own the company).
The professors write in the Journal of Personality and Social Psychology that trying to boost your own social value and status is “less likely to inspire cooperation or to cause you to be chosen by others for their team.”
But in “competitive situations,” the professors find that the ostentatious person is more favored over modest rivals. Think about sports figures. The chains around those necks are worth as much as the GDP of some small African countries.
Sociologist Thorstein Veblen coined the term “conspicuous consumption” in 1899, and we have been buying certain logos ever since. But how do we respond when we see the other person with the luxury item?
Herewith is the confession. I am conflicted. I know an expensive watch when I see it, and I know the difference between a gorgeous Brioni suit and a Men’s Wearhouse, with two pair of pants, but I am actively unimpressed — and I’m supposed to be. What’s the point of signaling if my antenna is busted?
Look, the guy would be disappointed if I just ignored the thing on his wrist that tells time on Mars, or the bracelet that comes with a sling for your arm. The valets at the restaurant do not park my 17-year-old Lexus SUV in front, they park the Ferrari 250 GTO or the 7,148-pound Rivian truck.
What are we signaling, especially today, when the infamous wealth gap is shouted at us from all sides? Darwinian logic argues that “people covet high status for its many social benefits.” But the question we are considering is how does that play in the office?
The professors did research with 3,600 participants from 27 countries, and the findings will not surprise you. “Conspicuous consumption is a bad idea in cooperative contexts.” So, when you go to the company barbecue, put a lid on it and think about how you might be perceived by your cohorts, i.e. leave the Lambo at home or park six blocks away.
As an entrepreneur, how do you signal and to whom and when? If you are trying to build a team, you are going to ask for sacrifices, you are going to seek cooperation across the whole company. Lose the gold bracelet.
I admit that this is a nuanced topic. The Devil does wear Prada, and high-status, famous people are “listened to” more than the rest of us even if they are giving an opinion in an area in which they know absolutely nothing. Like asking Taylor Swift about whether or not to raise rates at the Fed. Fame trumps all, and the media fawn and favor at the altar.
By contrast, the professors say that “people are instinctively aware of the benefits of modesty when the context values cooperation.” But in a negotiation (a competitive situation), it clearly benefits more if you strut your stuff. Bring the Birkin.
Rule No. 769
Maybe wear a sundial.