The question “Do brands sell lifestyles”, to me, is the exact same as asking if owning a handbag is a personality trait. Think about it, no brand now tries to sell you anything if they’re not selling you a whole new identity, one where you can see yourself going on weekend trips to the Amalfi coast, and where, somehow, you’re having martinis at noon on a Thursday. It doesn’t take a genius to figure out that brands aren't in the business of selling products - they're in the business of selling daydreams wrapped up in leather and logos. And let's be real, they’re laughing all the way to the bank.
First order of business: brand identity. What makes a brand what it is? Is it as easy as the logo, or is it deeper than that? Think Hermès for example. Every single article has a backstory that could be made into a movie at Universal. Do you see yourself horse riding on the beach at 6 am? No? What if you’re wearing equestrian boots with a lock and a key, and a perfectly padded jacket from the fall\winter collection? Sign me up for the classes!
It can’t be that easy to establish a brand identity, though. I mean, I know people who go to resorts in Asia for 5 months and still can’t figure out who they are. So how do brands do it? In a market drenched with designer duffels and vloggers, how does a brand tailor its own space? I figured it’s all in the one word as overused as it is misunderstood: authenticity. Because let’s face it - we’re all looking for that one brand that stays true, that won’t leave us the moment the next “it item” comes around. Authenticity in fashion is the love language. It’s the glue that holds together a brand’s vision, mission, and, let’s be honest, its Instagram feed. And yet, it’s one of the trickiest things to pull off.
But is having a vision enough? The question is, whose story are you really wearing? We, as consumers, want a story so compelling we want to be part of it, or, at the very least, wear it. We all know Instagram, the place where the lines between consumer and brand are blurrier than a brunch mimosa, and where consequently, brands must engage in ways that feel personal, almost intimate. They can’t just project an image anymore; as a brand, they have to listen, adapt, and evolve. They have to become the friends we never had, the crush we can’t get over, the role models we wish we could be.
And like everything good thing in life, there needs to be a balance. A balance between what? Aspiration and accessibility. What good is the feeling of being that woman - the impossibly chic Parisian woman, who drinks espresso on balconies and has a lover in every arrondissement- if anybody can have it? How do they make the other type of woman - the Bridget Jones of society, want their new glossy life, but make sure that they’re still relatable, that they’re not alienating themselves to them? I think that balance is what makes a brand that is both aspirational and attainable. The high-end brands do this particularly well, they cultivate that air of exclusivity all the while inviting the citizens of the fashion world into their own little world.
And honestly, maybe they don’t even sell a lifestyle. Maybe they just sell us the canvas, the paints, and the brushes, and we, as customers, make it our own. But authenticity stays and will always stay at the center of any equation. A brand that plays around too much with the who and the why risks big in this whole mess that is modern marketing. They can’t go too far with the whole "untouchable luxury" act, or they’ll price themselves out of the game. That’s why they let you in just enough to taste it - keep you craving more but never quite full. It’s the fashion equivalent of a half-hearted compliment - nice to have, but not quite satisfying. But as soon as they find that way of creating that narrative that invites their customers to dream and embrace a way of life that aligns with their Pinterest boards, they win. Just look around - everyone wants in, and they’re willing to max out a credit card or two to get there.
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