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"  This may be a somewhat unusual question, but having just returned from the European fashion shows, I&amp;#039;ve had it on my mind: What is the nature, I&amp;#039;ve been wondering, of prestige in ownership these days? Does it come from having something that is completely one-of-a-kind, an object that is a statement of individual taste, likely discovered in a place so far away that it is guaranteed to be a thing of curiosity to all who see it? Or is the pleasure derived from taking home something\u2014a watch, a pair of shoes, a handbag, a sculpture\u2014that is easily identifiable and available to anyone else lucky enough to be able to afford it? The former isn&amp;#039;t so much about price as novelty\u2014my Bar Hemingway ashtray, for instance, from the Ritz in Paris, which is currently closed for renovation. The latter is more likely to be a display of purchasing power and is also more about joining rather than standing apart from the crowd. An example of this, if I may borrow a possession from someone else&amp;#039;s closet, is the ironically old-fashioned gingham print\u2014on shoes, jackets, and dresses\u2014from Prada this season. It&amp;#039;s not exactly a logo, but to anyone who follows these things it might as well be. A quick reminder that helps explain where I&amp;#039;m going with this: It wasn&amp;#039;t all that long ago that the luxury fashion world was enamored of stamping its logos on everything. It made sound, if shortsighted, business sense; it was also good for branding (while it lasted). But it took the cleverness of a Ms. Prada or a Marc Jacobs (see: collaboration with Stephen Sprouse and others) to refine a crass impulse into a cool commentary on the ugly side of conspicuous consumption. That, of course, didn&amp;#039;t stop fashion types in other countries\u2014Russia first, then China\u2014from having to work through a weakness for a piece of post-Communist bling, and who can really blame them? But from the point of view of this magazine, which has been a refuge for the subtly chic throughout its entire existence, it is clear in the aftermath of such showiness that there is now emerging a new kind of sophisticate, one who is as likely to be Asian as American and who has his or her heart set on finding a rare luxury trophy to hang in the closet. I saw this with my own eyes on a recent trip to attend the shows in Milan and Paris. I don&amp;#039;t subscribe to the typical fashion editor&amp;#039;s opinion of Milan; I actually like the city a lot. I&amp;#039;m intrigued how a place that sprawls like Houston and was also built on a swamp could have become modern-day Italy&amp;#039;s capital of taste, not just in fashion but in design and architecture, as well as classical music. Whenever I&amp;#039;m there I spend a lot of my time walking its labyrinth of streets, peering into gated courtyards\u2014feeling, at night, when the city can often seem deserted, that I have been painted into a de Chirico and that the Minotaur is on my trail. Along with my ongoing need to increase my caffeine intake to at least six macchiatos a day, I make sure to see what&amp;#039;s new in my favorite shops, including Bernardini, which houses a faultless collection of period items, from anything the Prince de Polignac might have touched to the orange Vuitton trunks a Romanov would have commissioned. I must also always drop by G. Lorenzi, which could exist only in Italy. Its windows are maintained like a jeweler&amp;#039;s, but the contents are for men: rare lighters and ashtrays, handcrafted knives and tools, and unique indulgences, like a gleaming prosciutto slicer the size of a toaster. After one of the aforementioned energy boosts across the street at Cova, it&amp;#039;s on to Larusmiani, an intimate three-story shop that has been making a handsome line of fine men&amp;#039;s clothes under its own name for three generations, and to Rubinacci, the great Neapolitan tailor, for a quick peek. I noticed something else new at these places this time: discreetly dressed browsers from the Far East. And I saw them at Vionnet, the sophisticated and stylish French house recently revived by Goga Ashkenazi, an Oxford graduate from Kazakhstan. And at the intimate address where Prada, whose show the day before had introduced the next print everyone will want, debuted a special bespoke fur service while I was there, offering clients a way to take home something no one else will ever have\u2014the ultimate sign that there is nothing wrong with having a little of both. "^^<http://www.w3.org/2001/XMLSchema#string>
<http://www.townandcountrymag.com/style/collectibles/a1377/jay-fielden-nature-of-prestige-in-ownership/>