From 'Quiet Luxury' to Post-Growth Citizen: A PLCFA Perspective on Discerning Consumption

For the past several years, a singular phrase has come to dominate the discourse on discerning consumption: "Quiet Luxury." This cultural phenomenon, propelled into the mainstream by the sartorial codes of television shows like Succession and the courtroom attire of figures like Gwyneth Paltrow, has been widely interpreted as a simple aesthetic shift. It is seen as a pendulum swing away from the logo-driven, "loud" consumerism of the 2010s—a return to muted tones, unbranded accessories, and subtle signifiers of wealth, exemplified by the cashmere knits of Brunello Cucinelli or the logo-less caps of Loro Piana.

The sartorial code of "Quiet Luxury" was popularized by characters like Shiv Roy (played by Sarah Snook) in "Succession," whose wardrobe of muted tones and unbranded, tailored garments became a key signifier of the aesthetic.

This popular analysis, however, mistakes a symptom for the cause. This study will posit that the "Quiet Luxury" trend is not merely a stylistic choice. It is, in fact, the most visible tremor of a foundational crisis within the traditional luxury system. It is the cultural manifestation of a "state of exhaustion". The legacy model of luxury has been hollowed out by its own success, creating a "Scarcity Paradox" where mass-market expansion and relentless branding have destroyed the very rarity they were meant to sell. This has been compounded by a market-wide strategy of driving growth through unprecedented price increases, a tactic that has now reached its ceiling. The result is a profound consumer "price fatigue" and a "quiet rebellion" against a system where price has become dangerously "untethered from any material reality".

Consumers are not just rebelling against logos; they are unconsciously rebelling against a system of "sign-value" (Baudrillard) that has replaced tangible, functional, and narrative worth. The luxury industry, in its Baudrillardian endgame, "no longer sells objects but rather signs of luxury," and the consumer has begun to sense the emptiness of this hyperreal exchange.

This study argues that "Quiet Luxury" as we know it is only the nascent, aesthetic Phase 1 of a critical three-stage evolution in discerning consumption.

• Phase 1: The Aesthetic (Quiet Luxury): This is a largely unconscious act of social differentiation, an aesthetic preference that is often (and correctly) critiqued as a new form of class signaling.

• Phase 2: The Ethos (The Quiet Vanguard): This is a conscious shift in values, where a vanguard of consumers moves beyond status to prioritize purpose, narrative, and permanence.

• Phase 3: The Politic (The Post-Growth Citizen): This is the final stage: a philosophical and political alignment, where consumption is reframed as a conscious act of stewardship within a new, more sustainable economic paradigm.

The purpose of this study is to provide the definitive map for that journey. It is an accessible guide for the "Quiet Luxury" consumer to transition from a passive follower of a trend to a conscious practitioner of a more deeply considered life. To do this, we will use the foundational framework of Post-Luxury Conceptual Functional Art (PLCFA) (PLCFA Definition), a lens designed to evaluate objects not by "what does it cost?" but by "what does it mean?".

The Dissociative Gaze — Is 'Quiet Luxury' Just Class Warfare?

Before we can explore the philosophical potential of this movement, we must first deconstruct its most common and potent critique: that "Quiet Luxury" is simply a more insidious term for "Stealth Wealth". This critique is not only valid; it is the essential starting point for understanding the phenomenon.

"Stealth Wealth" is a philosophy of "discreet elegance" that "prioritizes substance over appearance". It is not about not spending money; it is about communicating wealth through "subtle signals" and a quality that "only those 'in the know' would recognize". This is a classic sociological maneuver: a form of cultural capital that separates the established "old money" from the "nouveau riche". The philosopher-sociologist Thorstein Veblen diagnosed this precise behavior in his 1899 treatise, The Theory of the Leisure Class. Veblen argued that the fundamental "motive that lies at the root of ownership is emulation" and the conferring of honor through "invidious distinction". "Quiet Luxury" is a perfect 21st-century iteration of this. By shunning the evident logo—which has been democratized to the point of vulgarity—the elite practitioner of "Quiet Luxury" re-establishes exclusivity. The $500 logo-less hoodie or $1,300 cashmere turtleneck becomes the new, more effective signifier, precisely because its value is illegible to the masses.

A visual representation of the sociological distinction between "Stealth Wealth" (left), prioritizing discreet elegance, and "Nouveau Riche" display (right), showcasing logo-driven, conspicuous consumption—a dynamic Thorstein Veblen analyzed over a century ago.

This classic critique has a sharp, contemporary edge. My own research, detailed in the internal-facing "Study Expansion and Topic Generation," has identified the artist Anna Ehrenstein as a key critical voice. Ehrenstein's work, which explores "pseudo luxury" and "imitation textiles" in post-communist contexts like Albania, led her to a powerful and sobering conclusion. For Ehrenstein, "authenticity is a means to discriminate, a weapon". It is a tool used by those in power—the West over the East, the rich over the poor—to enforce asymmetrical power relations. In this light, "Quiet Luxury" is not a rejection of the class system but its perfection. It is an "iteration of class society" that makes status signals invisible to the uninitiated, thereby restoring the "invidious distinction" Veblen described.

For the majority of its practitioners, "Quiet Luxury" is this. The consumer who meticulously studies the wardrobe of Succession is not learning a critique of capitalism; they are learning a new, more effective code of elitism.

Here, however, lies the central ambiguity that opens the door for a deeper evolution. The physical object acquired by the status-driven "Quiet Luxury" consumer (Phase 1) is often identical to the object that would be acquired by the philosophical "Post-Growth Citizen" (Phase 3). A logo-less, ethically crafted cashmere sweater from Brunello Cucinelli can be purchased as a "dissociative" status signal or as a conscious rejection of the growth-at-all-costs fashion system. The visual aesthetic is the same; only the intent of the steward differs.

Artist Anna Ehrenstein's work explores "pseudo luxury" and "imitation textiles," critiquing how authenticity is used as a tool for discrimination. This piece, "Tools of Oppression (Pink Silk)," visually deconstructs potent luxury signifiers.

This "aesthetic ambiguity" is the key. The overwhelming popularity of the aesthetic (Phase 1) creates a "Trojan Horse"—a form of cultural cover for the ethos (Phase 2) to emerge. This study does not aim to critique the taste of the "Quiet Luxury" consumer. It aims to reveal to them that their aesthetic instincts are pointing toward a far more profound and meaningful philosophy. It is an invitation to elevate their intent.

Part 2: The Emergence of the 'Quiet Vanguard' — From Aesthetic to Ethos

The pivot from a hollow aesthetic to a meaningful ethos is embodied by a group I have termed the "Quiet Vanguard". This is the crucial evolutionary step, Phase 2, which moves beyond the Veblenian gaze. The "Quiet Vanguard" is composed of consumers, often Ultra-High-Net-Worth Individuals (UHNWIs), who have "accumulated sufficient wealth to feel no further need to signal it" to others.

This group is defined by a critical, conscious behavioral shift: the rejection of the "income-upgrade phenomenon." This is the default consumerist behavior where rising wealth automatically correlates with purchasing into ever-higher tiers of branded goods. The Quiet Vanguard steps off this escalator. Their focus "shifts from chasing status to chasing impact and purpose". They are not buying less simply to be subtle; they are buying differently to find meaning. This search for meaning manifests in a preference for objects defined by permanence, narrative, and ethical provenance. The brands that cater to this vanguard are not selling "quiet"; they are selling substance.

Case Study 1: The Row and the Ethos of Permanence

The Row, the brand founded by Mary-Kate and Ashley Olsen, serves as a prime example of this new ethos. Its philosophy is not anti-logo; it is pro-permanence. The Olsens consciously "chose not to leverage their celebrity status" to promote the brand, focusing instead on a mission to "deliver designs that are as beautiful as they are practical". The brand is built on "timeless design" , "meticulous craftsmanship" , and "superior materials" that ensure "longevity".

Brands like The Row exemplify the "Quiet Vanguard" ethos, focusing on timeless silhouettes, meticulous craftsmanship, and superior materials that ensure longevity and transcend seasonal trends.

For the Quiet Vanguard, buying The Row is an "investment". Its pieces are designed to "transcend seasonal trends" and "remain relevant for years, possibly decades". This is reflected in market data: the brand is famously resistant to markdowns (with only 16% of products ever discounted, versus an industry average of 50%), and its pieces "retain strong resale value". This is a direct, market-based expression of the core PLCFA pillar of Permanence Over Disposability. The consumer is not just buying a coat; they are buying an object designed to resist the "relentless cycle of trends".

Case Study 2: Loro Piana and the Ethos of Material Narrative

Loro Piana, another "quintessential brand for 'quiet luxury'" , defines its value not by a logo, but by its mastery of material narrative. For this brand, the product is the story of the "world's finest and rarest natural fibers". The "object of affection" is the narrative of the vicuña, a rare animal that yields "a mere 250 grams of fleece every two years" , or the brand's pioneering of "Baby Cashmere," a fiber "sourced exclusively from the underfleece of baby Hircus goats".

Loro Piana's value is built on the narrative of the world's finest fibers, like those from the vicuña, a rare animal that yields an incredibly small amount of fleece, making its story central to the object's worth.

Loro Piana's vertical integration, which allows it to "control every step of the process, from the initial shearing to the final stitch," is not just a profit strategy; it is a "commitment to the sustainability of these rare, exclusive fibers" through long-term conservation programs. The value is not in the price tag; it is in the narrative of the material's source, rarity, and ethical stewardship. This is a perfect, commercial-scale example of the PLCFA pillar of Value Derived from Narrative, Not Price.

This narrative, however, has proven to be dangerously fragile. The very foundations of Loro Piana's 'quiet' ethos were shaken in 2024 and 2025 by a series of devastating investigations. Reports revealed that the Indigenous communities in Peru who harvest the rare vicuña fiber—the core of the brand's narrative—live in poverty, receiving as little as $280 for fiber used in $9,000 sweaters, with many working unpaid during the shearing. This was compounded in July 2025, when the brand was placed under court administration in Milan for "culpably failing" to monitor its Italian supply chain, which allegedly relied on subcontractors using illegal, exploitative workshops paying workers as little as €4 an hour. This stark disconnect between the public-facing narrative of stewardship and the reality of its supply chain exposes the critical vulnerability of the Phase 2 ethos: a story without transparent, systemic accountability is just a more sophisticated form of marketing.

The traditional Incan "Chaccu" is central to the Loro Piana narrative. However, investigations revealed a stark disconnect between this story and the reality for the Indigenous communities harvesting the fiber, who reportedly live in poverty—exposing a critical vulnerability in the brand's ethos.

Case Study 3: Brunello Cucinelli and the Ethos of Ethical Provenance

Perhaps the most philosophically advanced practitioner of the Quiet Vanguard ethos is Brunello Cucinelli. His entire brand is an object lesson in ethical provenance, built upon his philosophy of "Humanistic Capitalism". This philosophy is not a marketing tagline; it is a corporate governance structure. It is rooted in Cucinelli's personal experience of seeing his "father's tearful eyes after being humiliated at work," a wound that became his "will to work all my life to promote the moral and economic dignity of the human being".

The Cucinelli philosophy is built on a "harmony between profit and giving back" , a "long-term, legacy thinking" that plans in centuries , and a belief that the purpose of business is to benefit humanity, starting with the local community. He has famously restored the hamlet of Solomeo, creating a beautiful place for his artisans to work, and enforces a culture where workers are not to email after 5:30 pm to protect their "human privacy". The Quiet Vanguard consumer who buys Cucinelli is not just buying a luxury garment; they are buying a stake in a humane philosophy. They are participating in a system that aligns with the PLCFA pillar of The Object as a Vessel for Connection and Meaning.

Brunello Cucinelli's philosophy of "Humanistic Capitalism" is physically embodied in the restored hamlet of Solomeo, where his artisans work and his corporate culture is rooted in the "moral and economic dignity of the human being."

Yet, like Loro Piana, this "humanistic" brand narrative is facing its own crisis of authenticity. In late 2025, the company was accused by researchers of "misleading shareholders" and potentially "blatantly disregarding" EU sanctions by continuing to operate and sell ultra-high-value goods in Russia. While the brand denies any wrongdoing and states it is in "full compliance", the allegations strike at the very heart of its "moral" and "ethical" positioning. It sharpens an existing academic critique: is "Humanistic Capitalism" a new, scalable model, or a beautiful philosophy "only possible because of the company's underlying success"? This tension reveals the gap between a corporate philosophy and a truly systemic politic.

These case studies, and the controversies that now plague them, reveal a crucial, twofold fact. First, the 'Quiet Vanguard' is already practicing PLCFA instinctively, as a matter of taste, purpose, or a search for quality. But second, these scandals demonstrate the profound limitations of an unconscious ethos. They prove that without a rigorous, conscious, and systemic framework, even the most well-intentioned philosophy is vulnerable to hypocrisy and the traditional system's ethical failures. The role of the Objects of Affection Collection, therefore, is not just to provide a language for what this vanguard is doing right, but to provide the critical framework that holds them accountable for where they are failing. This act of naming and defining is what transforms an unconscious preference into a conscious, defensible philosophy, arming them to take the final evolutionary step.

Part 3: A Framework for Discerning Consumption — The Four Pillars of PLCFA

This is where our foundational thesis, Post-Luxury Conceptual Functional Art (PLCFA), provides an operating system for the Quiet Vanguard's ethos. PLCFA is a framework for understanding and evaluating a "contemporary category of creation that redefines the relationship between art, luxury, and utility." It refers to "objects designed with both function and philosophy at their core".

For the consumer seeking to transition from a passive aesthetic to a conscious ethos, these four pillars serve as a direct guide—a set of questions to ask of any object before welcoming it into one's life.

Pillar 1: The Inseparability of Concept and Function

This pillar demands that an object's utility be "expanded beyond mere practicality to include emotional, psychological, social, and even political work". In a PLCFA object, the concept and the function are "inextricably linked". The canonical example from my research is the work of Mark Rothko. The function of his Seagram Murals was not to be decorative, but to create a "secular chapel" for profound emotional contemplation—a function inseparable from his conceptual aims.

Mark Rothko's Seagram Murals are a canonical example of PLCFA Pillar 1. Their "function" is not decorative, but to create a "secular chapel" for profound emotional contemplation—a function inseparable from their conceptual aims.

For the discerning consumer, this means asking: What work does this object do? Does a chair merely hold a body, or, like one from Faye Toogood's "Assemblage" series, does it function as a piece of raw, elemental sculpture that redefines the room it inhabits?. Does a garment, like those by Rei Kawakubo, function simply to cover, or to deconstruct and critique our very notions of form and beauty?.

Pillar 2: Value Derived from Narrative, Not Price

This pillar is the very heart of the "quiet" ethos. PLCFA "situates value in depth of thought, cultural resonance, ethical provenance, and enduring use, not in the rarity of materials or the status of a brand". The Loro Piana case study, where value resides in the story of the vicuña, is a perfect illustration. An even more potent example is the work of artist Robert Ebendorf, who "transforms discarded detritus into philosophical objects." His work is a primary example of "Material as Story," where value is created "through intentionality and narrative rather than intrinsic wealth".

Artist Robert Ebendorf exemplifies PLCFA Pillar 2 by transforming "discarded detritus" into philosophical objects. This work is a primary example of "Material as Story," where value is created "through intentionality and narrative rather than intrinsic wealth."

For the consumer, the question is: What is this object's story? Is its value intrinsic—located in its narrative, its craft, its provenance—or is it purely extrinsic, defined by a price tag and a logo designed to signal that price to others?

Pillar 3: Permanence Over Disposability

This pillar defines PLCFA objects as being "designed to resist disposability, mass production, and the relentless cycle of trends that kills creativity". These are objects meant to be "stewarded, lived with, and eventually passed down," acting as "carriers of meaning across time". This principle directly codifies the ethos of The Row, with its focus on timelessness and durability. It is also a direct rejection of the "burnout society" and the "Paris Fashion Week Paradox," an unsustainable system of 18 collections per year that "kills creativity" and signals the death of traditional luxury.

For the consumer, the question is: Is this object built to last, or built for a trend? Am I acquiring a permanent "interlocutor" or a temporary placeholder?

Pillar 4: The Object as a Vessel for Connection and Meaning

Finally, PLCFA objects are not "passive commodities for acquisition but 'interlocutors in daily life'". They are designed to "facilitate a 'dialogue with culture'" and become sites of profound human connection. The Brunello Cucinelli philosophy, which connects the owner to a humane system of production in Solomeo, is a direct embodiment of this. This pillar is also exemplified by the work of Studio Formafantasma, whose critical investigations into material supply chains—like the political and ecological history of timber—connect the owner to the deep, often invisible, global forces embedded in the object.

Studio Formafantasma's critical investigation "Cambio" explores the political and ecological history of timber. This work exemplifies PLCFA Pillar 4, connecting the owner to the deep, often invisible, global forces embedded in an object.

For the consumer, the question is: Does this object connect me to a community, a maker, or an idea? Does it insulate me from the world, or does it deepen my engagement with it?

Part 4: The 'Un-Smooth' Object — An Antidote to Digital Burnout

This framework provides the what. But why is this shift toward deep, narrative, and permanent objects happening now? The answer lies in the deep, philosophical exhaustion of 21st-century life.

In my foundational research, I identify the contemporary philosopher Byung-Chul Han (Byung-Chul Han) as providing the most crucial diagnosis of our time. Han argues that we live in a "burnout society" driven not by external oppression, but by an internal "excess of positivity"—an imperative to perform, optimize, and produce that leads to self-exploitation. This culture has its own dominant aesthetic, which Han calls "smoothness". This is the "frictionless surface of an iPhone, the perfectly curated Instagram feed, the seamless interface". This "smoothness," Han writes, offers "no resistance, no negativity, and therefore, no real experience." It is the aesthetic of "passive consumption".

Contemporary philosopher Byung-Chul Han provides a crucial diagnosis of 21st-century life, arguing that we live in a "burnout society" driven by an imperative to perform, which creates an aesthetic of frictionless "smoothness."

The entire PLCFA framework is an antidote to this digital "smoothness." A PLCFA object is, by its very nature, intentionally "un-smooth". It is defined by its haptic qualities, its texture, its patina, its irregularities. It has, as Han might say, a "narrative depth that demands engagement, contemplation, and touch". It resists passive consumption; it must be experienced.

This "un-smooth" philosophy has a powerful, non-Western anchor: the Japanese worldview of Wabi-Sabi. Wabi-Sabi is not a mere design trend; it is a comprehensive philosophy that "valu[es] imperfection, transience, and authenticity". It finds profound beauty in the "crack in a ceramic bowl" or the "weathered surface of a wooden beam" —the physical testaments to an object's unique history, its narrative, and its journey through time (Pillars 2 and 3).

This is not the sterile, cold minimalism of the 1990s. It is the "Warm Minimalism" and "soulful" simplicity that is defining the 2025 luxury aesthetic. Current design trends speak of "natural textures," "artisanal beauty" , and "authentic materials that age well and develop a natural patina over time".

The Japanese worldview of Wabi-Sabi finds profound beauty in imperfection, such as the "crack in a ceramic bowl." This "un-smooth," haptic quality is a physical antidote to the frictionless "smoothness" of digital life.

What we are witnessing is a profound cultural shift. The popular "Quiet Luxury" aesthetic is the physical manifestation of a collective, unconscious desire for an antidote to the "smoothness" of digital life. People are not just rejecting logos. They are rejecting the passive, frictionless, and dematerialized world of the screen. They are seeking "un-smooth," haptic, resistant, and narrative-rich physical objects as a form of cultural therapy. This is a deep-seated, human motivation that runs far deeper than class signaling.

Part 5: The Final Evolution (Phase 3) — From Quiet Vanguard to Post-Growth Citizen

This brings us to the climax of the argument: the final and most important evolutionary step. This is where the personal ethos of the Quiet Vanguard (Phase 2) must, and can, be transformed into the collective politic of the "Post-Growth Citizen" (Phase 3).

As established in my "New Value Equation" research, the Quiet Vanguard's "rejection of the 'income-upgrade phenomenon' is a de facto rejection of the consumerist engine that drives GDP growth". When this affluent consumer, who possesses the means to buy extravagantly, "choos[es] not to buy a Ferrari" , they are making a quiet statement with "profound economic implications." This behavior, whether conscious or not, is a "nascent, market-led form of Degrowth".

The goal of this study is to make that political act conscious. The journey from "Quiet Luxury" is incomplete if it remains a personal, aesthetic, or even ethical choice. Its final, most potent form is a conscious political and economic one.

The "Post-Growth Citizen" is the individual who consciously aligns their PLCFA values with the economic philosophy of "Degrowth". The Degrowth movement advocates for a "planned, democratic reduction of production and consumption in wealthy nations" not as an act of deprivation, but as a strategy to improve well-being, reduce inequality, and align our economies with planetary boundaries. This philosophy is mirrored in the "Slow Movement," (Value Beyond Price) which champions "quality over quantity, connection, and savoring experience" over acceleration and disposability.

This alignment fundamentally reframes the act of acquisition. For the "Post-Growth Citizen," acquiring a PLCFA object is no longer an act of consumption—an act that feeds the "burnout" system of the growth-at-all-costs paradigm. It is, instead, an act of stewardship.

When the "Post-Growth Citizen" acquires a timeless garment from The Row, a narratively-rich textile from Loro Piana, or a humanely-made piece from Brunello Cucinelli, they are not "consuming" it. They are removing that object from the "relentless cycle of trends" and placing it into a permanent archive of personal or cultural meaning. This is the "artisan as activist", and the steward as curator.

Here, we discover the new, ultimate luxury. If traditional luxury was defined by acquisition and signaling, and "Quiet Luxury" by subtlety and purpose, the Post-Growth paradigm defines luxury as exiting the game of consumption entirely. The ultimate status symbol is no longer a thing, which can be copied, faked, or mass-produced. The ultimate, most exclusive possession is a conscious, coherent philosophy of living. The "Post-Growth Citizen" is the true inheritor of the luxury ideal, one who has traded the anxiety of having for the permanent, meaningful work of stewarding.

The Stewardship of Meaning

This study has mapped a three-stage evolution for the discerning individual. It is a journey that begins with a simple aesthetic preference and ends with a profound political and philosophical commitment.

The final evolution from consumer to "Post-Growth Citizen" reframes acquisition as stewardship. The ultimate luxury is no longer owning, but consciously engaging with and becoming a steward of an object's meaning.

• Phase 1: Quiet Luxury. A dissociative aesthetic, largely unconscious, and rightly critiqued as a Veblen-esque tool for class signaling.

• Phase 2: The Quiet Vanguard. An unconscious ethos, driven by an instinctive, therapeutic search for the "un-smooth" —for permanence (The Row ), narrative (Loro Piana ), and humanism (Cucinelli ).

• Phase 3: The Post-Growth Citizen. A conscious philosophy, where the individual deliberately uses the PLCFA framework to align their acquisitions with a "Post-Growth" and "Slow Movement" ethic, transforming consumption into stewardship.

The mission of the Objects of Affection Collection is to champion this final, most critical stage. The transition from a passive consumer of "Quiet Luxury" to an active "Post-Growth Citizen" is the most important act of discerning consumption one can make in the 21st century.

It is the shift from owning objects to becoming a steward of their meaning. This, ultimately, is the new, enduring definition of wealth and the true, profound work of an "Object of Affection."