I spent $4,580 on a cashmere sweater from The Row in 2024. I spent $329 on a wool overcoat from COS in 2022. The sweater, in my honest opinion, drapes slightly better. The overcoat, in my honest opinion, looks just as good in every photograph I have ever seen of it. The price difference is $4,251. The difference in how I am perceived on the street is, by every measurement that matters, zero.

I am, by the standard of the past three years, exactly the target customer for "quiet luxury." I am 38. I live in a Brooklyn brownstone. I work from home as a writer. I have a partner, a dog, and a mother in Pittsburgh who still does not understand why I pay rent. I have, in my closet, two Toteme scarves ($420 each), one Khaite blazer I bought on sale in 2024 ($1,580), one The Row cashmere sweater ($4,580), and roughly forty pieces from COS, Uniqlo, A.P.C., and Lemaire that cost, on average, less than $200 each. I have, after three years of paying attention to this trend, an opinion.

The opinion is this: "quiet luxury" is a marketing campaign. It is, by every measure, the most successful fashion campaign of the decade. It is also, by my standard, the most expensive one. Below is the case, in five pieces, plus the admissions, the things to skip, the history, and the honest summary — because anyone who tells you the quiet luxury trend is about subtlety has not, in fact, looked at the price tags.

The five pieces that explain the campaign

1. The Row "Brunia" cashmere sweater, $4,580. The piece I bought in the autumn of 2024, after reading exactly one too many Vogue Business pieces about "investment knitwear." The Brunia is, by every material measurement, an excellent sweater. It is 100% Mongolian cashmere. The cuffs are finished by hand. It is, by every fashion editor I have read, the platonic ideal of a quiet luxury sweater. It is also, by my standard, a sweater. I wear it, on average, twice a week. The cost per wear is, in 2026 dollars, approximately $44. The sweater I wore most in 2024 was a $39.90 Uniqlo merino crewneck. The cost per wear is, in 2026 dollars, approximately $0.15.

2. Khaite "Lilibet" cashmere coat, $3,250 (I paid $1,580 on sale). Khaite, founded in 2016 by Catherine Holstein, is, by every publication I read, one of the three pillars of the new American quiet luxury, alongside The Row and Toteme. The Lilibet is a long, structured, single-breasted camel coat. It looks, in photographs, like a Max Mara coat that has been to therapy. It is, by my partner's description, "the coat you wear when you want people to think you have a horse." I love this coat. I also love my $329 COS wool overcoat. The two coats, in photographs I have shown to five different friends, are, by every friend's description, "both nice." Neither friend could, in a blind test, tell which cost $329 and which cost $3,250.

3. Toteme "Scarf Knot" cashmere scarf, $420. Toteme, founded in 2014 by the Swedish stylist Elin Kling, is, by every publication I read, the Scandinavian arm of quiet luxury. The Scarf Knot is a beautifully made scarf. The cashmere is fine. The $420 scarf is, by my standard, indistinguishable from the $185 COS oversized scarf I bought in 2023. I have, in fact, worn both to the same coffee shop on the same morning. The barista, asked which I should keep, picked the COS.

4. Lemaire "Twisted Pants," $890. Lemaire, the Paris-based label run by Christophe Lemaire (the former Hermès artistic director) and Sarah-Linh Tran, is, by every publication I read, the French intellectual wing of quiet luxury. The Twisted Pants are wide-leg, high-waisted, cropped wool trousers. The COS "Wool Twill Wide Leg Pant," at $145, has the same silhouette. The fit is, by my standard, comparable. The cost difference is $745. I have not, in any meaningful way, been perceived differently wearing one versus the other.

5. COS "Wool Twill Wide Leg Pant," $145. The COS pant I have worn three times a week for two years. The cost per wear is, in 2026 dollars, less than $0.30. The pant is, by my standard, as quiet-luxury-looking as the Lemaire. The pant is also, by COS's pricing, accessible to roughly four times as many people as the Lemaire. This is, by the standard of the quiet luxury campaign, exactly the problem.

That is five pieces. The first four cost, in total, $10,140 (or $8,470 on sale, which is what I actually paid). The fifth piece cost $145. The first four are, by my standard, no more beautiful, no more wearable, and no more "quiet" than the fifth.

What I have changed my mind about

A few beliefs I held in 2018, that the last three years of quiet luxury have killed.

I used to think "quiet" meant understated. "Quiet luxury" entered the vocabulary in 2023 — most prominently in a Wall Street Journal piece by Jacob Gallagher in August 2023, and in a BoF (Business of Fashion) report the same month. The phrase, as Gallagher used it, referred to the absence of logos, the restraint of branding, the preference for cut and material over label. It was, in that original sense, a real idea. The problem is, by every measure, that the idea was rapidly captured by Instagram. By 2024, "quiet luxury" was a hashtag with over a billion TikTok views. By 2026, Sofia Richie's April 2023 wedding — the actual origin moment — had been re-shared, re-styled, and re-monetized approximately nine hundred thousand times. A trend that was, in 2023, supposed to be invisible became, by 2026, the loudest trend on the internet.

I used to think the high price meant better materials. The materials in a $4,580 sweater are not, by my standard, fourteen times better than the materials in a $329 coat. The cost ratio of materials, in the fashion industry, is, by every textile analyst I have ever read, somewhere between 8% and 15% of the retail price. The other 85-92% is, in some combination, brand, marketing, retail markup, and the quiet luxury tax.

I used to think Sofia Richie Grainge was the cause. Sofia Richie married Elliot Grainge in April 2023 in the south of France, in a Chanel wedding dress. The photographs — Richie in a white silk halter top, Richie in a low-rise cream trouser suit, Richie in a silk slip dress — were, in their restraint, the opposite of a Kardashian wedding. They were, in their restraint, also, by my standard, the most-shared fashion photographs of 2023. Within three months, "old money" was a TikTok aesthetic. Within six months, "quiet luxury" was a Sephora display. Within a year, $4,500 cashmere sweaters were sold out at The Row. The wedding was not the cause of the trend. The wedding was, by my standard, the campaign launch.

I used to think Carolyn Bessette-Kennedy started the trend. Carolyn Bessette-Kennedy, in 1996, in a camel coat and tortoiseshell sunglasses, was, by every fashion historian I have read, the original quiet luxury customer. Annie Hall, in 1977, was earlier. Babe Paley, in the 1960s, was earlier. The aesthetic — restraint, quality, no logos — is, in fact, as old as American wealth. What changed in 2023 is not the aesthetic. What changed is that the aesthetic became, for the first time, purchasable as a campaign. Carolyn Bessette-Kennedy did not have a hashtag. Sofia Richie Grainge has, by my count, nine hundred thousand reposts.

What to skip when "quiet luxury" is calling

If I were advising a friend who was about to spend $1,500 or more on a quiet luxury piece in 2026, I would tell them to skip these categories at the start.

The $4,000+ cashmere sweater. The $4,580 Brunia from The Row is, by my standard, a sweater. The $440 COS cashmere sweater is, by my standard, a sweater. The sweater is, by my standard, what you should be evaluating, not the brand. Skip the $4,000 sweater. Buy the COS.

The "investment" leather bag. The Row Margaux (around $5,500), the Khaite Lotus ($2,890), the Toteme T-Lock ($2,590). Each is, by every fashion editor I have read, an "investment piece." Each is, by my standard, a leather bag. The Coach Pillow Tabby ($450) is, by my standard, a leather bag. The bag is, by my standard, what holds your wallet and your phone. The bag is not, by my standard, a retirement account. Skip the $5,000 bag. Buy the Coach.

The "quiet" sneaker. The Common Projects "Achilles Low" (around $425). The Lanvin "Curb" (around $1,100). Each is, by every publication I read, a "minimal sneaker." Each is, by my standard, a white sneaker. The Adidas Stan Smith ($119) is, by my standard, a white sneaker, and has been since 1971. Skip the $400 sneaker. Buy the Stan Smith.

Brand-name "quiet luxury" perfume. The Baccarat Rouge 540 ($325 for 1.7 oz). The Le Labo Santal 33 ($245 for 1.7 oz). Each is, by every publication I read, "the signature scent of the quiet luxury customer." Each is, by my standard, a perfume that announces itself from three feet away. The quiet luxury perfume is, by my standard, the loudest perfume available. Skip the $300 perfume. Buy a perfume you actually like.

The "fashion insider" subscription services. Net-a-Porter, Mytheresa, SSENSE. Each is, by every publication I read, where quiet luxury customers shop. Each is, by my standard, a website with a 40% markup on identical pieces from COS, A.P.C., and Toteme's own outlet. Skip the markup. Buy the pieces direct.

The "quiet luxury starter pack" on TikTok. The starter pack is, by my standard, a marketing funnel. It is, by every measure, a list of items to buy so that you can be perceived as the kind of person who buys those items. The starter pack is, by my standard, the opposite of quiet. Skip the starter pack. Buy what you like.

A brief history

The aesthetic of quiet luxury — restraint, no logos, expensive materials — is, by every measure, as old as American wealth. Babe Paley, in the 1960s, was photographed by Slim Aarons in a turtleneck and trousers. Annie Hall, in 1977, wore a vest, a tie, and wide trousers. Carolyn Bessette-Kennedy, in the mid-1990s, wore a Calvin Klein camel coat and tortoiseshell sunglasses and looked, by every fashion historian I have read, like the woman who made restraint the new aspiration.

The trend — "quiet luxury" as a phrase, as a campaign, as a purchasable aesthetic — is, by every measure, a 2023 invention. The Wall Street Journal ran the first major piece in August 2023, by Jacob Gallagher. BoF ran a report the same month. New York Magazine's The Cut ran a piece titled "The Rise of Quiet Luxury" in September 2023. Vogue Business ran a piece titled "Why Quiet Luxury Is the New Status Symbol" in October 2023. By January 2024, "quiet luxury" was a Google Trends breakout term. By April 2024, it was a hashtag with over a billion TikTok views.

The fashion industry had been preparing for the campaign for years. The Row, founded in 2006 by Mary-Kate and Ashley Olsen, had spent seventeen years building a brand with no logos, no advertising, and a $4,500 sweater. Toteme, founded in 2014 by Elin Kling, had spent nine years building a brand with a $400 scarf. Khaite, founded in 2016 by Catherine Holstein, had spent seven years building a brand with a $3,000 coat. Lemaire had spent thirty years building a brand with a $900 pair of trousers. Each was, in 2023, ready for the moment.

The trigger was, by every fashion historian I have read, the Sofia Richie Grainge wedding. The wedding photos were, in their restraint, the opposite of a Kardashian wedding. They were, in their restraint, also the most-shared fashion content of 2023. Within three months, "quiet luxury" was a meme. Within six months, it was a marketing campaign. Within a year, it was a $4,500 sweater.

The honest summary

The quiet luxury trend is, in the end, a campaign. The campaign has, by every measure, succeeded. The clothes are, by my standard, beautiful. The clothes are also, by my standard, identical in appearance to clothes that cost five to fifteen times less. The campaign is, by my standard, the most expensive tax on aspiration in the modern fashion industry.

What works for me: a closet that mixes The Row, Khaite, COS, A.P.C., and Uniqlo, where the only difference between the expensive pieces and the affordable ones is the materials I cannot see. A partner who cannot tell which is which. A friend who picked the COS over the Toteme.

What does not work for me, and may not work for you: the idea that quiet luxury is, in fact, quiet. The campaign is, by every measure, loud. The hashtag is loud. The starter pack is loud. The $4,500 sweater is, in any meaningful way, loud. The quiet luxury customer is, by every measure, the loudest customer in the room — they are just saying it in a different tone of voice.

Three years in, I own one $4,580 sweater, one $1,580 blazer, two $420 scarves, one $890 pair of trousers, and roughly forty pieces from COS, Uniqlo, A.P.C., and Lemaire that cost, on average, less than $200 each. The total spend on quiet luxury is, in 2026 dollars, approximately $8,000. The total spend on the rest is, in 2026 dollars, approximately $6,000. The two piles of clothes, in photographs I have shown to friends, are, by every friend's description, "both nice." Neither friend has, in any meaningful way, been able to tell which is which. Neither friend has, in any meaningful way, cared.

The honest summary is, in the end, this: the quiet luxury trend is a campaign. The campaign has, by every measure, worked. The sweater I wear most is still the Uniqlo. The coat I wear most is still the COS. The pieces I wear when I want to feel something are still the expensive ones. The pieces I wear when I want to be left alone are the affordable ones. The difference between the two is, by my standard, mostly in my head. The campaign has, by every measure, succeeded in putting it there.