Evolving from family crests to designer symbols, logos have always been used to communicate transaction, status and privilege. They promise identity and belonging. However, we find that sometimes it just doesn’t seem to fit. 

 

Picture this: you’re walking down a sunlit street, the air heavy with the smell of buttery croissants. You approach your favorite café. Somebody strides ahead of you, pushing open the door. At their feet, Michael Kors motifs, their trousers stitched with Gucci Gs, a glimpse of Calvin Klein’s waistband, a Supreme tag; and finally, a brash red puffer plastered with Louis Vuitton logos. You catch their entire ensemble in one glance. This is what I call the “peacock archetype.”

This archetype likes to parade and flaunt themselves as male peacocks do. Anecdotally, just as a peacock dances for a mate, this archetype is often wearing luxury brands for the approval of others.The peacock archetype is familiar and performative, and we do not buy into the lifestyle they’re trying to sell. This is because luxury logos don’t just represent, they expose. Similar to a polygraph test, they’ll either confirm the status of the life one is (seemingly) living or proclaim the facade being desperately protected.

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Research into “luxury value perception” shows that part of what consumers derive from luxury goods lies in their social value. (Wang et al., 2024) Meanwhile, studies into perceived rarity and exclusivity reveal that when luxury goods are too visible, or when their wearers fail to align other cues (behavior, other possessions, context) with the luxury ideal, the display often provokes doubt rather than desire. (Zhang, 2025)

 

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This helps explain why the peacock is just an obvious version of the human condition. We desire to belong, with bonus points if that association gets us privileges. Unfortunately, social media has made us so disconnected that we often believe we can consume our way into groups. I theorise this is why the surfacing of different aesthetic “cores” had so much buy in. It was a license to be associated with particular groups and what they stood for without actually following through on the acts. Resultantly, cottage core played into soft femininity and "traditional wife” roles, while streetwear had people rediscovering FUBU yet lack the history behind the brand. Resultantly, when put to the test, all these ideals fall short.

 

There are cultural exceptions and nuances. In some communities, like among “African uncles,” the parade of logos may carry less suspicion because the material wealth that logos signify is often present. When people do have Maybachs, lavish homes, status already recognized in their community, the logos don’t need to cheat. They simply confirm what is already known. In those contexts, even large displays cease to be “tacky” and instead become markers of belonging, taste, or identity.

 

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Moreover, one shouldn’t vilify the peacock archetype. Sometimes the exaggerated display isn’t about deception but about aspiration, fantasy, or performance. Designers themselves always look outwardly with runway shows, haute couture spectacles, storytelling that trades in extremes. Those who don’t come from wealth may gaze through windows of glamour and desire the drama, even if they can’t replicate every material detail.

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So this is what luxury logos really are: truth serums. They lay bare the alignment or misalignment between aspiration and reality. When someone poses with a Louis Vuitton bag as they step into a Range Rover, the image is complete, coherent and accepted. If the same person steps into a beat-up hatchback, the dissonance forces judgment often bringing to question their aptitude with fiscal responsibility. 

 

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Yet, disclaimers are necessary. We cannot and must not assume intent. Ultimately, in your relationship with designer fashion, authenticity lies less in the label and more in coherence: between who you are, what you own, how you present, and why. You can love logos, want shine, gravitate toward luxury; but logos are never neutral. They reveal motives. They unpack stories. Luxury items are beautiful because they are beautiful, but they are powerful because they are signals and people will always try to read them.

 

You can’t fake the whole story. It’s not wrong to want something ornate. But the message you send, whether polished or clashing, will often betray your reason for wearing it.

 

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