Feeling Rich

Luxury assets, like fine wine, classic cars, high-end watches, and prime real estate, once reliably soared in value, becoming ever more expensive symbols of wealth and exclusivity. But since peaking in 2023, these “plutocratic assets” have entered a surprising downturn. Prices for top Bordeaux wines, prime property in major cities, private jets, and even Rolex watches have dropped, sometimes sharply. Despite this, the world’s super-rich are not getting poorer, billionaires are more numerous, and the top 0.1% control more wealth than ever. This article examines what drives such decline. 

The real reason for the bear market in traditional luxury is a shift in what counts as truly exclusive. Social media, second-hand markets, and the globalization of luxury mean that almost anyone with money can now access nice things: lab-grown diamonds rival the real, and even rare goods can be rented, shared, or partially owned. As a result, classic status goods have lost their sense of scarcity and ability to provoke rivalry, the qualities that once made them so desirable. This is not even counting the fact that fake version of uber-premium goods are so well-made that all but true experts would be fooled. With that come ubiquity of the label to the point of becoming undesirable as a status symbol.

In response, the ultra-wealthy are pivoting toward experiences and services that can’t easily be bought by the masses or replicated. Exclusive travel, unique dining, VIP events, and rare “moments” are booming. Economist data shows that while the price of luxury goods has fallen, the cost of ultra-luxury services, like a Michelin-star meal, a ticket to the Super Bowl, or a night at Paris’s finest hotel, has soared since 2019 and continues to rise.

These services are inherently limited: only so many people can dine at the world’s best restaurants, stay in the top suites, or attend exclusive galas and sporting events. The value comes not just from enjoying the experience, but from knowing that others can’t. For the ultra-rich, telling a story about a unique experience now carries more prestige than owning yet another collectible item on display.

In a world where almost everything can be bought, the greatest luxury has become "access", to moments, memories, and places that remain out of reach for nearly everyone else. The age of the status symbol asset is fading. The new luxury is the unrepeatable experience. While that maybe true, I have to imagine being in rarefied atmosphere like that means that wealth can no longer be flaunted at scale. If you are only surrounded by the top 0.1% in wealth, you are among your peers at that point and no one is going to swoon at what you have so does it matter anymore, does having exclusive access to experience even make the person feel rich when everyone there has it as well. There has to be a parade and people to watch and clap.

Dutch Oven

I often pass by a Sur La Table store and never fail to check out the Le Creuset cookware sitting by the shop window. I use my Dutch oven at least once a week but the one I have cost me less than thirty dollars and has served me well for over ten years. It does not appear anywhere close to retirement so the way I see it I've already got my money's worth. The Le Creuset stuff always gave me pause. There is no scenario in which I would buy such a thing for myself. I'm not sure if I'd be comfortable using it if it was given to me a as gift. Maybe its meant to be decorative and just lend color to the kitchen.  Reading this article about the brand and how its changed over time was interesting.

Le Creuset, long the gold standard in high-end enameled cast iron, was once celebrated for its durability and status as a culinary heirloom. A Le Creuset Dutch oven was seen as the ultimate cook’s tool: expensive but meant to last a lifetime, cherished for both utility and sentiment.

However, as the article reveals, Le Creuset’s reputation has changed dramatically in recent years. The brand’s products are increasingly purchased not for actual cooking, but for "social clout". Instead of being used in the kitchen, these $400 pots often sit on shelves as decorative trophies. Factory-to-table events have intensified the collector culture, drawing superfans who chase “mystery boxes” and limited-edition colors, only to end up disappointed with the reality, echoed by high-profile dissatisfaction on TikTok and Reddit. Makes sense to me that some might see ownership of something like this is a status attainment and if so, using it to cook stew would feel anti-climactic,

Le Creuset itself isn’t blameless in this shift. The company now leans into "conspicuous consumption", regularly releasing new colors and “timely” marketing tie-ins with franchises like Pokémon, Star Wars, and even the musical Wicked. The effect: what was once “timeless” now feels “trendy.” While this approach has boosted profits (now around $850 million yearly), it’s also cheapened the brand’s image, with some products, like the signature stoneware spoon rest, criticized as pointless wedding registry filler. I have been more than a few wedding registries where the bride (or groom) had asked for a Le Creuset Dutch Oven and no one had signed up. It does not make logical sense to many folks including me. 

Moreover, with competitors like Staub and authentic global cookware (Japanese donabes, Mexican ollas, copper jam pots) now easy to buy online, a kitchen full of unused Le Creuset is no longer an aspirational mark of domestic skill, it’s just “cheugy.” The article closes by highlighting home cooks who prefer more functional cookware and avoid getting swept up in Le Creuset’s hype and color cycles.

Le Creuset, once valued for lifelong utility, is now caught between collector hype and conspicuous consumerism, raising questions about what real kitchen mastery looks like today, and whether “buy-it-for-life” products still mean anything in an era driven by trends and status.

Spiritual Speed

People taking GLP-1 drugs like Ozempic, Wegovy, and Mounjaro report their cravings for food, alcohol, and other pleasures suddenly diminish without effort. This experience intrigued the author of this Atlantic article. to visit a Buddhist monastery, where Sister True Vow explained that Buddhism has long considered desire as a central cause of suffering. While some users feel liberated by their vanishing cravings, a result centuries of spiritual practice aim for, others instead describe life as less joyful or even empty, raising new questions about what it truly means to be free from desire.

As these drugs reach millions of Americans, society is confronted with a rare mass experiment: what happens when wanting itself is chemically muted? While weight loss is generally celebrated, many users describe emotional dullness and loss of interest in previously pleasurable activities. Psychiatrists and researchers note that although the drugs do not appear to cause more depression or suicidal thoughts compared to older medications, the loss of desire or motivation, termed "avolition", is a uniquely subtle, even confusing, effect.

Neuroscience has shown that wanting (the drive to pursue a reward) and liking (the enjoyment of that reward) are controlled by separate processes in the brain. This means it’s possible to want things you don’t even like, or enjoy things you no longer crave. The dopamine system is central to this, easily manipulated by drugs: increasing dopamine can flood us with compulsive urges, while lowering it can flatten our mood and make life feel lifeless. GLP-1 drugs “quiet” the brain’s desire circuits in ways researchers are still trying to completely understand.

This abrupt change, suddenly losing the urge to indulge, contrasts with Buddhism’s approach, which recommends gently developing self-awareness and gradually loosening the grip of desire. Sister True Vow points out that letting go of cravings over years, with deliberate reflection, is psychologically different from a medical shortcut. For some, the medication’s effect can be jarring, but it might also present an opportunity to examine what really drives happiness and fulfillment, potentially leading to a deeper personal “Middle Way” of balanced, mindful living.

Ultimately, modern culture is often criticized for overstimulating our dopamine systems, leading many to seek out “dopamine fasts” to tame instant gratification. Yet, as the GLP-1 experience shows, simply erasing all desire can make life unsatisfying too. True contentment seems to lie somewhere between relentless craving and total renunciation, a balance of enjoying the present while understanding the roots of our wanting. Reading this essay made me think about how one may feel connected to the universe after consuming psilocybin mushrooms. The experience is unlike another and truly mind altering. But achieving that sense of oneness with the universe in a deliberate, controlled and practiced manner has to be a different thing altogether and those that can do that are not anything like the average Ayahuasca retreat goer I would imagine.

Random Answers

Reading these lines in Open City by Teju Cole got me thinking about infinite AI Slop for some reason, and why it even exists as a concept. Maybe it's the innumeracy that the author talks about

This was part of my suspicion that there was a mood in the society that pushed people more toward snap judgments and unexamined opinions, an antiscientific mood; to the old problem of mass innumeracy, it seemed to me, was being added a more general inability to assess evidence. This made brisk business for those whose specialty was in the promising of immediate solutions: politicians, or priests of the various religions. It worked particularly well for those who wished to rally people around a cause. The cause itself, whatever it was, hardly mattered. Partisanship was all.

There is nothing more immediate that AI generating endless video reels whose only value is that it grabs human eyeballs and advertisers can monetize that attention. If the population is generally anti-scientific and lacks the ability to assess evidence, the conditions feel completely ripe for the infinite slop machine that has now been unleashed on us all. 

Reading Goal

I used to be the person who read all day all summer holidays and there was nothing else I would have rather done. Context matters and as such recreating that "magic" has proven impossible later in my life. Reading had to fit in between other things. Escaping into a physical book for eight hours was a luxury I stopped having. I miss that time and miss the person I used to be. This essay gave me food for thought.

The Cut asked eighteen avid readers how they find time to read books amidst today’s constant distractions and busy routines. The consensus: the battle is real, with phone and screen addiction emerging as universal enemies to sustained reading. Many interviewees mentioned strategies to minimize technology’s pull, such as leaving the phone behind, designating device-free reading windows, or always having a book on hand to fill spare moments. These small choices, compounded daily, make carving out more reading time possible, even when it feels elusive.

Across professions, routines diverged but determination was a common thread. Some participants are militant about schedules, blocking out reading time in digital calendars or setting monthly book lists and holding themselves accountable. Others take a more fluid approach, reading whenever the urge strikes: in transit, during a child’s practice, or in those precious quiet moments at home. Audiobooks have become a lifeline for parents or those with busy hands, while plenty still extoll the irreplaceable experience of holding a physical book, annotating and making each copy truly personal.

Reading, for these well-read individuals, is not just a hobby but a vital mental space and joy. Many schedule reading as a reward at different times of day, early mornings, during commutes, or as a wind-down ritual before sleep. Rather than pursue aggressive reading goals, some prefer to savor fewer books deeply, while others delight in keeping detailed logs or using book-tracking apps to motivate themselves. For many, reading is deliberately solitary, a form of self-care and escape, even if it sometimes happens in short bursts between life’s obligations.

Ultimately, finding time to read is less about discovering hidden hours and more about persistent, creative choices, treating reading as both a pleasure and a priority. I think I have treated it more like a pleasure not as much of a priority. Something I want to change next year. 

Creator Economy

Syracuse University has made a bold move in higher education by launching the nation’s first academic Center for the Creator Economy. This innovative center, a collaboration between the Whitman School of Management and the Newhouse School of Public Communications, positions Syracuse at the forefront of research and learning in the rapidly expanding creator-driven landscape. With global creator community growth estimated at 10–20% annually and projections that the creator economy will reach $500 billion by 2027, the university is responding to an era where nearly half of U.S. teens are earning income through digital channels. I started to understand this market only recently because of the work I am doing these days. It is fascinating and completely incomprehensible to me how all of this works.

Even as folks like me remain largely confused about it, the creator economy is fundamentally reshaping how ideas, products, and services are marketed and monetized, fueled by podcasters, influencers, streamers, and digital artists who dominate platforms like TikTok, YouTube, and Instagram. Syracuse’s new center will cater to this digital-first world by offering both undergraduate and graduate courses in content creation, audience engagement, and digital strategy. Alongside academics, it will provide workshops, speaker series, executive education, and on-campus incubators to give students practical experience and mentorship for developing their own ventures.

This academic initiative is a strategic response to shifts in career aspirations and workforce realities of today’s students, many of whom already see themselves as creators and entrepreneurs. It is also a brutal job market for college graduates with degrees that were traditionally viewed as safe bets. The center pledges to meet students where they are, helping them not only build personal brands and digital businesses but also understand the evolving legal, ethical, and strategic sides of the creator economy. Industry involvement will be strong, with an advisory council of creators, media executives, and investors shaping the vision and activities of the center, ensuring that students are prepared to lead in tomorrow’s economy.

Syracuse’s embrace of the creator economy comes as it temporarily pauses admissions to some traditional majors, signaling a wider transformation in how educational institutions adapt to the needs of a new generation. The Center for the Creator Economy represents not just a programmatic update, but a fundamental shift in academic priorities, aiming to help students thrive at the intersection of creativity, commerce, and digital innovation in a world where content is king and creators are the new entrepreneurs. This may be just the kind of thinking that can keep college education relevant for kids. 

Optimal Outcome

The AI hiring landscape is currently experiencing a frenzied, competitive surge, as startups battle to attract top engineering talent amid the dominance of industry giants like OpenAI and Anthropic. Recruitment tactics have become unconventional and creative, billboards featuring cryptic codes, personalized gifts, and unique experiences designed to stand out and appeal to the select few highly sought-after candidates. 

Despite sizable investments and strong financial backing, these startups often struggle to match the compensation and prestige offered by Big Tech firms, who can routinely outbid rivals for the best engineers. Reading this story made me wonder if the wisdom we need to dispense to any and all college-bound kid these days is to strive to become on of those candidates that companies will pay and arm and leg to hire. If in fact that is the plan, what must be true in middle and high school for such outcome to occur. 

Executives at high-growth startups, such as Decagon and Unify, are candid about the difficulties they face in filling essential roles. Beyond high-stakes gestures (like exclusive dinners or even bespoke artwork), the most reliable strategy for hiring has actually returned to personal networks. Founders often tap into their connections, relying on referrals and shared acquaintances to identify and recruit top talent. With hundreds of millions in funding and all the resources that come with it, these companies still find the pool of product-centric AI engineers to be limited and highly competitive, many of whom juggle multiple lucrative job offers at any given time.

The ideal candidate profile has evolved: companies now search for "AI product engineers" adept not only in technical skill, but also in rapidly leveraging new AI tools and fulfilling product management functions. Startups attempt to lure these professionals with the promise of meaningful ownership—acting as “mini founders” responsible for shipping entire products. However, the lure of major labs like OpenAI persists, and industry founders increasingly see little distinction between Big Tech and elite AI firms, making differentiation and retention even tougher.

Despite the current hiring boom and influx of capital, there is growing concern within the sector about sustainability. The abundance of well-funded startups and competition for a small pool of elite talent has prompted speculation about a potential bubble. Many founders warn that the surge may eventually slow, leading to a shakeout across the industry as capital and attention consolidate around the most successful and resilient players.