What's in a name?

I have been inexcusably delinquent in posting, but I'll attempt to rationalize my neglect by reminding myself (and you) that I am so close to finishing a freelance project that has resisted completion for months.  Though said project consumes almost every waking moment of my time, today I treated myself to the latest installment of my favorite New York Times column, Critical Shopper.  (You can read the complete article here.)

 This week, Cintra Wilson notes that her scavenged ensemble of eBay and discount store finds closely resembles those of her fellow shoppers at Isabel Marant's Soho boutique.

I was wearing a boy's plaid rodeo shirt with snap buttons (eBay, $12), a charcoal-gray Hanes zipper hoodie (Wal-Mart $12), skinny-legged Levi's I bought at one of those loud discount places on lower Broadway (under $40) and an old wool Army jacket (eBay, under $20). Coincidentally enough, I looked, in texture, shape and substance, more or less like I got dressed right in the store.  [Another shopper], wearing what I reckoned was head-to-toe Isabel Marant, was dressed more or less like I was: military jacket, high clog boots, skinny pants.  Only the grand total of my outfit cost approximately what she might have paid for parking while buying hers.

I love Wilson's columns because she is rarely seduced by the lure of luxury.  In a 2009 review of Vince's Meatpacking District boutique, Wilson called the line's $53 and $118 tank tops "viscerally obscene."

The Vince pocket T is the identical twin of the Gap pocket T, only without the democracy. It’s the $72 pocket T made of silky thin Peruvian cotton that says to your mechanic: “Sure, we’re all God’s children in the brotherhood of man. Only I’m slightly better than you.”

Wilson raises an interesting question about the value of comparable goods:  At what point should the difference in workmanship and materials justify the cost disparity between similar items?  When does our money stop paying for quality and start paying for a name? Take these chairs, for example:

Images from Design Within Reach and West Elm, respectively

The top chair, available at Design Within Reach, is $449.  The bottom chairs, from West Elm, are $79 to $99, (roughly the price of a Vince t-shirt).  The DWR chair has a narrower back than the West Elm version.  The top curvature of the West Elm chair dips deeper than the DWR chair.  The variations, in my mind, cannot warrant the $350 price difference.

One of my DC friends is an interior designer who used to work in a high-end, contemporary design district in Georgetown.  The quality and cost of the pieces she sold made DWR look like Ikea; these items were built to last.  She spoke of clients who had owned their contemporary Italian furnishings for fifty years, but she also lamented the amount of indestructible furniture that her delivery crew hauled to who-knows-where when her clients redecorated. Since her clients did not keep their expensive furnishings for all eternity, did they realize the value of their initial expenditure?

Admittedly, my perspective on fine Italian furniture is skewed; I could not afford a Minotti chair or a Cappellini lamp even if I wanted one. But the same logic should apply to most purchases: Will I enjoy more/better use of this type of item if I spend more money? Since I prefer comfortable furniture to uncomfortable furniture, (quel surpris!), I am willing to spend more money to purchase quality furniture that will last longer, thus enjoying more and better use of my purchase.  Even so, I would not spend an amount equal to my annual income on a dining set guaranteed to last a thousand years because, much like my friend's clients, I am unlikely to keep it for a thousand years.

So what about home accessories?

Last year, Apartment Therapy posted a comparison of several similar home furnishings from West Elm and Target to illustrate that similar looks can be found at a variety of price points.

Images from West Elm and Target via Apartment Therapy

 In both of the comparisons above, the West Elm item, featured first, was more than twice as expensive as the Target item.  Why spend more when you can get the same look for less money? When it comes to similar items like lamps, mirrors, and pillows, I buy the cheaper version and spend the rest of my money on shoes. 

All things being equal, the amount you pay for an item does not enhance or diminish how you interpret your style. Ultimately, that is the logic Wilson imparts so poetically.

On Church Street I stood underneath a tree that was having a riotous outburst of pink flowers, and I may be far from wise, but eventually I noticed that no matter how much money I threw at it, it didn’t get any prettier. It wouldn’t have been prettier if I had replanted it on 86th and Madison, either. The point is to recognize a meritocracy in things of value, regardless of their low points of origin, current trendiness or future invisibility.