How Minimalist Luxury Solves the Deprivation Problem
Ophelia among the Flowers. Odilon Redon, about 1905-8. Courtesy the National Gallery, London.
The most persistent myth about a simplified life is that it must be a life of lack, when in truth, it is a life of more considered choices.
As I journey deeper into the world of minimalism, I’ve arrived at a curious realization: my empathy for why so many of us are wary of it is actually increasing, not decreasing. There was a time, not so long ago, when I would have actively distanced myself from the title of “minimalist.” The stereotypes associated with the lifestyle were a powerful deterrent. I didn't see many people who looked or lived like me—a mother, an entrepreneur, a woman in midlife—espousing its virtues. It felt like an exclusive club for a very specific kind of person.
Reconsidering the Minimalist Label
In recent years, however, I’ve shed some of that reluctance. I’ve come to believe quite firmly that I can define myself in any way I see fit, regardless of who has traditionally been part of any given "club." This has made me less afraid to adopt labels and identities that I feel truly align with my personal philosophies. Yet, even as I’ve embraced the core tenets of minimalism and started creating content to explore this path of intentional living, I’ve become more acutely aware of its public relations problem.
The version of minimalism often modeled for us online can look sparse. It can look joyless. It can look, frankly, like nothing to be envied. While the principles and techniques for decluttering your life shared by many influencers are sound, the visual and narrative details of their day-to-day existence can feel alienating. It’s a portrait of a life that is certainly not for everyone, and it often feels incompatible with the beautiful, layered chaos of family and career.
This is precisely why I believe the concept of ‘minimalist luxury’ is so vital—it elegantly solves the deprivation problem.
The Elegance of Intentional Luxury
Minimalist luxury is the opposite of scarcity and underscores a profound intentionality in how we choose to invest our resources. This idea is, of course, central to minimalism in general, but it’s brought into sharp focus when you add the element of “luxury.” It posits that when it is time to spend your money, you will spend it on something good. Something of quality. Something that provides lasting value and joy to your life. The focus shifts from merely having less to ensuring that what you do have is both worthwhile and worth having.
This philosophy, which I have wholly adopted, isn't just about owning fewer possessions. It’s a commitment that when I do decide to acquire something, that something will be the best I can invest in at that moment. This practice of mindful consumption is about making a decision I can feel good about long-term, confident in the intrinsic value that possession brings to my home and my life. It transforms the act of acquiring from a fleeting impulse to a deliberate, thoughtful curation.
Investing in Enduring Value
The same principle applies to time, our most finite resource. How I spend my time should be the absolute best use of it. There is a meaningful distinction here. Adding the “luxury” element forces a deeper consideration of how you invest your resources because the goal is to get the greatest possible return. That return isn't just measured in the happiness a purchase or experience brings you personally. It’s also in its longevity. The old adage “buy nice or buy twice” comes to mind. We should aspire to buy “nice,” rather than constantly replacing everything from our furniture to our clothing to our kitchen gadgets.
This is a cornerstone of building a refined life. By choosing quality over quantity, we are not only being more sustainable, but we are also respecting our own hard work and the resources it took to acquire these items. We create an environment that supports us rather than demands constant upkeep and replacement. It is about crafting a legacy of quality, even in the smallest details of our daily lives.
This shift in mindset reframes the entire conversation around minimalism. It ceases to be about deprivation and becomes, instead, a practice of choosing wisely—for long-term value, whether that value is monetary or simply, and most importantly, personal. This is the essence of intentional luxury, a philosophy that enriches life not by adding more, but by elevating what is already there.
If this perspective resonates with you, my new book, Worthwhile & Worth Having, takes this idea even further. It’s a guide to embracing minimalist luxury without sacrifice—showing how fewer, better choices create a life of abundance, not lack.
