Luxury’s a funny one, isn’t it? It’s a nebulous little word, as unapologetic in its uniqueness as it is indefinable in its scale. Contrary to popular belief, I think there’s something wholesome about the concept of luxury. Something worth celebrating. Luxury not as excess, you understand, but as comfort; as reward. Luxury is that gift to yourself; it’s the warmth of others; it’s that item, product, or ritual that takes you to that fuzzy space. Luxury is the calm-inducing, zen-evoking centre of something that’s all yours. Unless, of course, it’s shared. Which, as we know, is a luxury in and of itself...
