As the cost of living continues to rise, talking about luxury may seem indecent. In Quebec, the consumer price index rose by 3.2% in June compared to last year.
The Canada Mortgage and Housing Corporation also forecasts that 2026 will be marked by slow economic growth, high borrowing costs and weak housing demand.
In this context, the word “luxury” spontaneously evokes excess, logos, conspicuous consumption, and a world inaccessible to the majority. But this definition is perhaps too simplistic.
Luxury can also refer to a different relationship with objects and places: buying less, choosing better, maintaining, repairing, and passing things on. It can speak of craftsmanship, durability, memory, and even a renewed sense of security.
In times of uncertainty, this concept of luxury deserves to be discussed, precisely because it opposes rapid accumulation and disposability.
Meaning
David comes from a Sicilian family established in Quebec, active in the furniture industry for several decades. In both our family histories, objects were never mere decorative accessories. They represented the work required to acquire them, the prudence of those who had known hardship, and the desire to leave something for the next generation.
A piece of furniture kept for twenty years doesn’t have the same meaning as an object bought to follow a trend and replaced two years later. A table around which a family gathers, a restored armchair, a wardrobe passed down through generations, or a piece made by a craftsman have a value that goes far beyond their price.
My work in the luxury residential sector has taught me that the word “luxury” often provokes two opposing reactions. Some idealize it without critical distance. Others reject it immediately, considering it a pointless display of wealth. These two reflexes prevent us from asking a more interesting question: what truly deserves to be considered luxurious?
Moral exemption
A high price guarantees neither quality, nor ethics, nor durability. Some brands primarily sell an image. Some expensive items age poorly, are impossible to repair, or rely on production methods that should not be celebrated. Luxury should therefore not be granted moral exemption simply because it presents itself as prestigious.
Conversely, not everything that is affordable or mass-produced is necessarily inferior. Many families buy according to their means, and it would be deeply inappropriate to transform sustainability into a moral privilege reserved for the wealthiest.
The real distinction is not between expensive and cheap. It lies between what is designed to be replaced and what is designed to last; between what only seeks to impress and what truly enriches the everyday experience; between the object that follows a trend and the one that accompanies a life.
Housing
This reflection is particularly relevant in the housing sector. CMHC forecasts that market activity will remain subdued in 2026 due to uncertainty, borrowing costs, and modest income growth. When homeownership becomes more difficult, every home-related decision carries more weight. Renovations are less frequent. Some purchases are postponed. People try to avoid costly mistakes.
This could push us towards the cheapest option at all costs. But it could also encourage another question: how do we create interiors that can stand the test of time?
The answer isn’t to fill every home with unaffordable objects. Rather, it’s about rediscovering a culture of choice. A single, well-designed piece can have more meaning than an entire room bought to replicate an image seen on social media. A repairable material, a locally sourced item, an antique, a family heirloom, or a handcrafted piece can all contribute to this idea of luxury.
Quality
Retail trade continues to grow despite the uncertainty: sales increased by 0.7% in Quebec in May. So we are still consuming. The question is not only whether we spend, but what we choose to support when we do.
Do we want to support anonymous objects with a deliberately short lifespan? Or can we place greater value on quality, repair, craftsmanship, the origin of materials, and after-sales service?
Redefining luxury will obviously not solve the housing crisis or the rising cost of living. But words influence our aspirations. As long as luxury is solely associated with excess, we will leave the field open to those who make it a social performance.
We can impose a more demanding definition on it. True luxury should not be about possessing ever more. It should be about knowing why we choose an object, who made it, how it will age, and to whom we will one day be able to pass it on.
In an age dominated by speed, image, and replacement, that which lasts has perhaps become the rarest form of wealth.