Before I explain what luxury means to me, let me give you some background. I worked for 10 years as a commodity broker, stopped for four years to have twins (now 10 years old), and am now the CEO of Restore the Music UK, a new charity funding musical instruments and tuition in schools across London.
I have been on a very high salary, then none at all, then average, and I have crossed paths with people from every field, race, income, political allegiance and skill set. I have been in a position to be the targeted consumer of luxury products and then very definitely the non-consumer.
There are two things, however, which have really shaped my personal response to the notion of luxury.
Number one is a Greek island called Kastellorizo. It has 300 inhabitants, one road and no traffic lights. Everything has to be imported, including water, and if the ferry does not come, then nor does the food/loo roll/toothpaste.
And yet, such restriction makes it abundantly clear that luxury is not about the best that you can afford. In a place like this, where the thunderstorms are like the greatest lightshows on earth and the sea the warmest and clearest you will ever swim in, luxury is turning the tap on and having water come out of it. It is about the intense shades of colour on the wild flowers, the rugged beauty of the rocky landscape. It is about experiencing a moment that can never be taken away from you. Moments so heartbreakingly pure and precious that all else pales in comparison.