Founded by Peter the Great in the early 18th century, St. Petersburg was originally conceived as a new European capital, a window to the West, and a symbol of Russia’s modernization. In the first decades of the 18th century, the nobility and those close to the imperial court sought to build houses here that reflected their elevated status and ambitions. An example is the palace of Alexander Menshikov — one of Peter I’s closest associates — built according to the design of the Italian architect Domenico Trezzini. This mansion, executed in the Petrine Baroque style, combined features of European palace traditions with innovative solutions, emphasizing not only wealth but also a new view of architecture as a means of political statement. Subsequently, Baroque continued to dominate St. Petersburg’s architecture, but over time it was replaced by stricter and more rational Classicism.

With the Industrial Revolution came the secularization and democratization of luxury. Machines replaced artisans, and brands became carriers of a new bourgeois identity. Louis Vuitton, Hermès, and Cartier transformed from suppliers to royal courts into creators of a new consumer code. In the 20th century, luxury gradually lost its esoteric nature and became a mass phenomenon. Glossy magazines, film, mass media, and advertising made it recognizable, desirable, and, paradoxically, replicable. Logos became symbols of success—brands that shouted about the owner’s status. However, this period is merely one stage in a long evolution. And today, it is coming to an end.

Modern luxury has ceased to be a statement—it has become a question. It increasingly speaks not through loudness, but through silence. Today, silence is an elitist strategy: it requires knowledge, intuition, and depth. This echoes the Japanese philosophy of wabi-sabi—the beauty of the imperfect, the inconspicuous, the transient. Silence, restraint, even an aesthetic "weariness" have become marks of distinction.

This shift is not merely stylistic but philosophical in nature. Modern luxury is moving away from conspicuous consumption and turning to experience as the primary object of aspiration. The focus is on unique, personalized impressions: a private dinner with a chef at a Tuscan villa, an expedition to glaciers with geologist guides, a night at a Zen monastery, or a bespoke journey tracing family archives. Travel becomes a form of intimate intellectual and emotional experience, rather than a tourist display of wealth.

When we speak of luxury, clichés most often come to mind: gleaming gold, rare automobiles, private jets, logos that speak louder than their owners. Yet increasingly, these images are merely the superficial, outdated layer of a deeper and more dynamic substance. Luxury, like any cultural category, is not a frozen canon but a living myth. And today, we find ourselves at a unique turning point: before our eyes, this mythology is shifting — from a culture of possession to a culture of meaning, from conspicuous abundance to intellectual restraint, from noisy success to the aesthetics of silence.

Author: Anastasia Kremleva

Historically, luxury has always been more than just a marker of wealth; it was a language of power. In ancient Egypt and Assyria, symbols of luxury—from turquoise to golden sarcophagi—reinforced the ruler’s status as an intermediary between the earthly and the divine. In ancient Rome, only the highest senators were permitted to wear purple togas, and the feasts of the elite became theaters of political supremacy. In feudal Europe, luxury materialized in fabrics, coats of arms, interiors, and rituals, down to the campaign tent. With the advent of absolutism, Louis XIV’s Versailles became the embodiment of absolute power, self-contained and put on display through marble, gilding, and systems of court etiquette. Luxury was a tool of hierarchy and subjugation.

This shift is also affecting the investment sphere. A growing number of affluent clients are investing not in rapidly depreciating assets, but in enduring forms of presence—trophy real estate, cultural heritage, collections, and family wineries. Acquiring an object with a history, investing in a home that will become a family legend, creating an asset that can be passed down to children—this is a new way of perpetuating one’s name. Interest in architecture as cultural capital is growing. It is no coincidence that projects created by world masters—from Peter Zumthor to Tadao Ando—are perceived not as housing, but as heritage.

Experiential luxury is the fastest-growing segment of the industry. In 2024, the luxury travel market surpassed $ 1.4 trillion, with a projected annual growth rate of over 8%. The wellness segment—from detox retreats to anti-stress programs involving neuropsychologists—has become the most important vector of luxury’s transformation. People are investing in health, silence, and the absence of digital signals. Ownership is giving way to time, and time is becoming the new currency.

Privacy has become the primary metaphor for privilege. True status is no longer displayed—it is concealed. Being outside the public sphere, living in an "unmarked" home, having no open social media profiles, owning objects that no one knows about—this is the new luxury. It is not reclusiveness, but an elite form of presence. Private clubs and invitation-only communities are forming a new class: those who do not appear on lists, but know how and where to be. Clubs like Silencio in Paris and Core in New York are not merely elite spaces—they are new forms of cultural aristocracy.

Modern luxury is becoming an existential category. It is the ability to slow down in a world accelerating toward madness. It is the art of saying little, but precisely. It is time spent in a space that requires no justification. It is the legacy that will remain when algorithms vanish. It is a choice in favor of depth, knowledge, culture. And perhaps, it is the ultimate form of genuine freedom.

The global luxury market, despite temporary stagnation, continues to grow. According to Bain & Company forecasts, the personal luxury goods market could reach € 650 billion by 2030. However, the growth centers are shifting: China, the UAE, and Saudi Arabia are coming to the fore, while Europe is becoming an arena for cultural re-evaluation. Post-pandemic recovery, increased sensitivity to sustainability, and the localization of experiences are all influencing the format and perception of luxury. Modern consumers demand not just exclusivity, but meaning—from the origin of materials to the philosophy of the brand.

Finally, the most significant change concerns the very function of luxury. It no longer serves as a means of separating "us" from "them." On the contrary, the new luxury is a language of belonging to a specific type of thinking. It is a cultural code deciphered through knowledge, cultivated taste, and sensory perception. It requires preparation for appreciation, much like a museum or a symphony. In this sense, today’s luxury is not about how much something costs. It is about how deeply you feel.

By the beginning of the 21st century, luxury faced a crisis of authenticity. The economic collapse of 2008 triggered a moral rejection of excess. The era of Instagram and digital display blurred the line between the original and the imitation: an Hermès bag in a feed and its copy on a marketplace look identical in pixels. The ESG agenda, climate anxiety, and the intellectual saturation of society shifted focus from the material to the ethical. Brands encountered an inflation of symbols: a name alone was no longer enough. The era of a new, post-visible luxury is dawning.

The style from which the logo has disappeared has become a marker for those who recognize it. Brands like The Row, Loro Piana, Zegna, and other purveyors of "invisible luxury" speak to the initiated. They are not seen; they are recognized. The architecture of private resorts like Aman or Six Senses is designed not as a backdrop for Instagram, but as a space for silent presence, for integration into the natural and cultural landscape. Simplicity, restraint, bespoke tailoring, materials with profound tactile meaning—this is the new language of distinction.