(Photo from Getty Images)
Today I woke up to my wife saying, “The Birkin bag, the OG, sold for TEN POINT ONE MILLION, MIKE.” Insert side eye and judgment from both of us.
But me being me, I started to roll this concept around in my head.
During my plodding to get dressed. Birkin bag.
During my run. Birkin bag.
During my drive to work. Birkin bag.
And this isn’t to say I came up with a rational summary exactly where I land. And I want to know what you think about what I was thinking.
My background – I grew up in an affluent town but with humble beginnings. About thirty miles outside of New York City, we’re surrounded by farmland (yes, “we’re” because I moved back to my hometown after a thing or two.) My parents did well. We didn’t want much. But, we had a strong family, salt-of-the-earth values instilled in us at an early age. We knew “money didn’t grow on trees”, and that it took making good choices and hard work to have a comfortable life.
For us.
We also understood that not everyone had the same choices.
Ah ha.
There lies the privilege; when you have a nice set of decisions to choose from.
Keyboard warriors – When I saw some of the comments from the NYT post about the Birkin bag sale, they resonated with me. Here are some of the comments:
- The first with the most responses: “I smell a broken moral compass!”. Yep, I stole that phrase because it resonated and started this whole morality crisis. Today.
- “We all have the same opportunities to invest our money.” (Uhhmmm)
- “How many people could you feed with that money?”
You know the drill. The keyboard warriors are out in full effect. Flinging out Google data and Chat GPT-generated digs.
Is luxury a moral downfall? Man, those comments…they got my brain firing on all cylinders, and mainly, I began to question if luxury is morally corrupt.
I once bought a $200 pair of sneakers because I was feeling low. That purchase was less about the shoes and more about the story I told myself: that I deserved something nice. I worked hard. And hey, these runners would help me break my personal best.
Reality: I was chasing significance with a credit card.
But many of us do the same thing on a different scale. We buy the car that’s $10K out of our budget. We lease the “boss” lifestyle before we can cashflow it. We chase identity through what we own.
Here’s the question that haunts me, and maybe it’ll stick with you, too:
What else could we be doing with that money?
Ten million dollars could fund so many needs in the world. Pick a cause, any cause.
Here’s the thing – the Birkin was originally made for Jane Birkin. It was for working women to throw everything into one place and carry and go. Its status was created afterward. I think we lost the plot somewhere along the way because it grew into the status symbol it is today.
So no, I’m not mad at the person who bought that bag. I’m curious. I’m wondering what story they were telling themselves.
Because that’s what money does – it gives voice to our beliefs. It whispers stories about status, safety, success. And if we’re not careful, it starts to run the show.
Psst – This is why I wrote The Money Habit.
Money isn’t just math. It’s psychology. It’s history. It’s a trauma. It’s identity. If we don’t slow down long enough to ask why we spend, we’ll end up broke in ways that have nothing to do with our bank accounts. (Been there. #stillmarried)
And I’m not preaching from the mountaintop. I’ve lived this. I built a company that made millions… and lost it all because I believed that success meant always looking successful. I was the king of the metaphorical Birkin bag.
From making it all, to losing it all. From that big lake house in the “best town in NJ” and the Land Rover to the little rental house in the town over, and a car that I hoped started in the morning.
If you’re an entrepreneur, or you’ve ever stared at a luxury item thinking, “Maybe this will mean I made it,” I get you. We all want to feel seen, valued, respected, safe. But real success? It’s silent. It’s internal. It doesn’t always look impressive on Instagram, but it feels rich.
So maybe this isn’t about shaming someone else’s choices. It’s about holding up a mirror to our own. What do you chase when you’re tired, scared, or uncertain? What does luxury mean to you?
Here’s my working definition:
Luxury is the freedom to live according to your values.
Sometimes that might look like a $9 latte guilt-free. Sometimes it’s saying “no” to a flashy upgrade so you can say “yes” to a deeper dream. And sometimes, it’s walking away from the Birkin bag – not because you can’t afford it, but because you no longer want it, and maybe because you don’t need it to feel worthy.
That, to me, is the ultimate flex.
That, and my family smiling.
Your morals, your decisions? Not for me to tell you. But here’s where I land for myself. Financially recovered, my family and I are comfortable. Sometimes there’s a little luxury. Often, there’s a lot of sharing. It’s because I changed my money mindset. It’s because I got disciplined. Every dollar is accounted for in an account.
I recently shared that my daughter had a scary climbing fall, with a just as scary medical bill – even after health insurance. Because I had created different accounts and allocated for exactly this kind of emergency, the bill was taken care of, and my daughter could focus on her long and painful recovery without the stress of finances. (Appreciative, my fiercely independent daughter did not like this one bit, by the way.)
My employees will tell you I have shown up with a poker table for one of their husbands, a grill for another’s new house, you know, stuff.
One of our team members helped another when her car was towed and she had no way to pay to get said car back.
We’re pretty open, and we talk about all of this. They told me it wasn’t about the stuff. It wasn’t about the money. It was that they felt seen. They were helped. They were in it together.
Ok. I think I’m on to something and can answer my own question.
It’s not up to me to tell you how to spend your money. What I can say for myself is that I have a little now because I learned how to manage it. And when I find something worthwhile – a cause and yes, even a guitar, I spend.
Money isn’t the answer. It does not buy happiness. For me, my family, and my team, I notice, money is the resource that can provide help, peace of mind, and relief.
Ok, so I’m still not sure where I land on the Birkin. And maybe it’s just not for me to judge. I do know I created accounts to help my family and my community. And I think that’s all my heart needs.
Wishing you peace of mind.
-Mike