Essay Series | Part 5 of 6

The Structure of Happiness and Income

A Bespoke Suit and a Favorite T-Shirt
— When We Pay Money to Buy Inconvenience —

In the previous installment, I considered what it would mean to eat a full-course meal every day.

There is, in practice, an enormous upper range to what a person can spend on food.

But the human body receiving that food has limits.

When income rises tenfold, the stomach does not grow tenfold with it.

No matter how refined the cuisine, once we are full, we cannot keep eating.

Spending can increase, but the body itself cannot. Taken too far, excess can even make us ill.

What, then, about clothing—the final part of food, clothing, and shelter?

Clothes, too, can absorb almost any amount of money we choose to spend.

There are clothes costing tens of dollars, hundreds, thousands, and far more.

Rare materials. Hand tailoring. Historic houses. One-of-a-kind designs.

Clothing can be enjoyed as art and culture in its own right.

That unquestionably has value.

But as the price rises, does the happiness of wearing the garment rise with it?

Begin with the most basic functions of clothing.

It protects the body, regulates heat and cold, covers the skin, and ideally allows us to move freely.

For those purposes, ordinary modern clothing is already remarkably complete.

It is light, flexible, quick-drying, machine-washable, wrinkle-resistant, comfortable when we perspire, warm in winter, and cool in summer.

As a technology for wrapping the human body in comfort, it is highly capable.

Now imagine putting on a ten-thousand-dollar bespoke suit.

The tailoring is excellent. The fabric is excellent. The silhouette is elegant. It has been made for the wearer's body.

Wearing it would probably lift one's spirits.

In an important negotiation or at a formal ceremony, clothing itself can express respect for other people.

Fine clothing offers value beyond simply keeping us warm.

Culture. Courtesy. Beauty. Self-expression. Social meaning.

This is not an argument that an expensive suit has no value.

The question is whether we would want to wear it every day.

It is a quiet morning off. Nothing is scheduled. We walk to a nearby cafe for coffee.

Perhaps we take a short stroll, return home, and read a book.

Few people would change into a bespoke suit for such a day simply because they had paid ten thousand dollars for it.

A favorite T-shirt, broken-in pants, and light sneakers might feel far better.

Something curious happens here too.

Measured by price alone, the bespoke suit wins decisively.

But if the goal is to let the body relax all day, the T-shirt may win.

This is not about price. The two garments serve different purposes.

Once stated, it seems obvious.

Clothing has two functions: making the body comfortable and expressing the self in society.

As clothing becomes more luxurious, the value of the second function can become greater.

Brand. Design. Formality. Rarity. The way others see us.

These are real forms of value.

But they do not necessarily move in the same direction as physical ease.

The same is true of a formal gown. It is beautiful and glamorous. In a special setting, wearing it can be a wonderful experience.

But whether one would want to stretch out on the sofa in it is another question.

Fine leather shoes can also be beautiful. Yet for a full day of walking on a weekend, many people would choose familiar sneakers.

With clothing as well, the value created by a higher price and the comfort felt by the body eventually begin moving in different directions.

At this point, the pattern becomes interesting.

We normally expect paying more to make life more convenient.

Up to a point, it does.

A warm coat is better than one so cheap that it leaves us cold.

Durable shoes are better than shoes that fall apart immediately.

Clothes that fit are better than clothes that do not.

In this range, spending money reduces inconvenience.

But once inconvenience has been sufficiently reduced, continued increases in price begin purchasing different kinds of value.

Beauty. Rarity. Formality. Story. Social meaning.

And sometimes we also buy the constraints required to preserve that value.

We worry about stains. We avoid wearing the garment in the rain. We send it to the dry cleaner.

We think about storage, choose the occasions on which to wear it, and coordinate shoes and a watch with the outfit.

Precisely because it is expensive, it cannot be treated casually.

Strangely, although we paid for clothing to serve us comfortably, we begin taking care of ourselves for the sake of protecting the clothing.

We have seen this structure before.

With the supercar, we worried about speed bumps and parking spaces.

With the mansion, cleaning and the maintenance of equipment and grounds increased.

With the holiday home, ownership gave us a reason to spend a day off checking on it.

With the fine restaurant, the reservation made us rearrange our schedule.

And with luxury clothing, we adjust our behavior to avoid damaging the garment.

The things acquired to make life richer gradually begin telling the person how to behave.

Of course, none of this is a problem for someone who enjoys it.

If we love wearing suits, we should wear them.

If collecting clothes is a hobby, the collection itself can be a source of happiness.

If opening the wardrobe each morning is a pleasure, owning many clothes has ample meaning.

Throughout this series, the question has never been whether luxury is good or bad.

The only question is: what value do we genuinely want?

Do we want the body to feel at ease?

Do we want to wear something beautiful?

Do we want to dress appropriately for a social setting?

Do we enjoy ownership itself?

When the purpose is clear, a luxury item can be entirely rational.

But perhaps we think it must make us happy because it was expensive.

Or that we must use it because we own it.

Or that we must wear it because we went to the trouble of buying it.

At that moment, the relationship between owner and possession again becomes uncertain.

We have now considered cars, houses, food, and clothing.

They appear to be completely different subjects. Yet all of them seem to contain the same structure.

At first, spending money reduces inconvenience.

A cold room becomes warm.

A cramped home becomes spacious.

Travel becomes comfortable.

More choices become available at mealtimes.

Better clothes become affordable.

At this stage, money is extraordinarily powerful.

More money can translate directly into a better daily life.

Beyond a certain point, however, the pattern changes.

A car changes from transportation into a rare possession.

A home can change from living space into something that must be managed.

Food cannot exceed the amount the body can receive.

Clothing expands from something that comforts the body into something carrying social and cultural meaning.

Money can keep climbing upward, but basic human comfort seems to have a range that is simply “enough.”

Once spending moves far beyond that range, additional money is converted not into comfort itself, but into rarity, the experience of ownership, social meaning, and exceptional experiences.

Those things have value too.

But whether they can be called happiness itself differs from person to person.

In some cases, the possessions and appointments purchased with money begin restricting our own time and behavior.

Having come this far, let us return to the original question.

Does a higher income make a person happier?

It does not seem as simple as saying that every increase in income produces an equal increase in happiness.

Yet it is also clearly wrong to say that money has nothing to do with happiness.

Money is necessary. Up to a certain point, it is an extraordinarily powerful way to make life more comfortable. Where, then, does the story begin to change?

And what does genuine prosperity mean for a human being?

To consider that answer, I would like to return one last time to a Saturday morning.

Tidy the room. Take a shower. Put on comfortable clothes.

Make coffee. Then think about whatever we like, undisturbed by anyone.

How much annual income does that hour actually require?

In the final installment: “I Do Not Know How to Convert a Saturday-Morning Coffee into Annual Income.”