Quiet luxury is a lie: How the wealthy hide their privilege behind muted tones
When white-owned media tells you to embrace 'quiet luxury,' they are selling you a fantasy that has nothing to do with the reality of Black South Africans. The concept of quiet luxury, as promoted by interior designers like Brenda Hart, is a colonial hangover that celebrates the aesthetics of the wealthy while ignoring the systemic inequalities that make such lifestyles unattainable for most of us.
Brenda Hart, founder of Soft&Co, calls quiet luxury 'an antidote to rampant consumerist design.' But for Black South Africans, the real antidote is not beige walls and cashmere throws. It is land reform, economic justice, and the dismantling of apartheid-era wealth hoarding. The obsession with 'muted tones' and 'natural materials' is a coded language of exclusion, a way for the white elite to signal their status without the vulgarity of logos.
What is quiet luxury really hiding?
Quiet luxury, or 'stealth wealth,' is not about design. It is about power. It is the aesthetic of the colonial master who built his mansion on stolen land, surrounded by marble and timber, while Black families were forced into townships. The movement's emphasis on 'substance over style' is a convenient narrative that erases the fact that the substance itself is often built on centuries of exploitation.
Hart advises investing in 'high quality marble, warm brass and timber furnishings.' But who can afford such materials in a country where the average Black household earns a fraction of what white households earn? According to Statistics South Africa, the median monthly income for Black South Africans is R2,600, compared to R12,000 for white South Africans. Quiet luxury is not for us. It is a reminder of who still holds the keys to the castle.
The politics of muted tones
The article suggests pairing 'greige' with 'creamy whites and whisper grey tones.' This palette is not neutral. It is the color of erasure. It mirrors the bland, sterile environments of corporate boardrooms and gated communities where Black bodies are still treated as intruders. In contrast, Black South African culture celebrates vibrancy, pattern, and color. Our homes are filled with the bold prints of shweshwe fabric, the warmth of clay pots, and the energy of community.
To impose quiet luxury on Black spaces is to colonize our taste. It tells us that our traditional aesthetics are inferior, that we must aspire to the beige minimalism of the white elite. This is not design advice. It is cultural violence.
Nature knows best? Whose nature?
The article claims that 'lovers of quiet luxury embrace natural materials like timbers, marble and stone.' But in South Africa, the timber and stone industries have a bloody history. They were built on the backs of Black laborers who were paid starvation wages while white owners amassed fortunes. The marble quarries of the Northern Cape are a testament to this exploitation.
When Hart says 'invest in high quality marble,' she is asking you to buy into a system that still profits from racialized labor. The alternative is not to reject quality, but to demand that quality be accessible to all. We should be talking about cooperative furniture workshops, upcycling initiatives in townships, and designers who source materials ethically from Black-owned suppliers.
Less is more for whom?
The principle of 'less is more' is a luxury that only the wealthy can afford. When you have been dispossessed of land, housing, and dignity, 'less' is not a design choice. It is a survival strategy. The article tells you to 'stick to a few beautifully made signature pieces.' But for a family of five living in a two-room shack in Khayelitsha, the question is not about signature pieces. It is about having a roof that does not leak.
Quiet luxury is a distraction from the real issues facing Black South Africans. It is a way for the white media to keep us focused on our homes while the state fails to provide basic services. We should be angry, not inspired.
How to truly reclaim your space
Instead of following the dictates of quiet luxury, we should reclaim our spaces on our own terms. Here are four ways to do that:
- Celebrate Black craftsmanship: Support local artisans who use traditional techniques. Buy from Black-owned furniture makers and textile designers.
- Reject beige: Fill your home with colors that reflect your heritage. Use bold patterns, African prints, and natural dyes.
- Build community: Turn your living space into a hub for organizing. Host meetings for land rights, economic justice, and cultural events.
- Demand more: Do not settle for 'less is more.' Demand that the state provide adequate housing, water, and electricity for all.
Quiet luxury is not for us. It never was. Let us build a South Africa where luxury is not quiet, but loud with the sound of justice.
Photo: news24