Luxury is Dead!
- The Cigar Profit
- Jul 22
- 22 min read
After Further Investigation, it Was an Inside Job
July 22, 2025 | Jonathan Lipson | Founder & President | The Cigar Profit Consulting | Schedule an Exploratory Call Today
Preface:
Some of you will swear I’ve gone soft - anti-capitalist, off track. Let’s be clear: I’m as capitalist as it gets. I believe in ambition, competition and strategy. What killed luxury wasn’t capitalism - it was short-term laziness wrapped in corporate spin.
And that’s why I’m writing this - because the free market isn’t failing us… it’s about to correct all of this in the most brutal way possible.
When Everything’s Called Luxury, Nothing Truly Is
There was a time when the word “luxury” meant something. A time when buying something came with pride, when ownership meant exclusivity and when brands understood the transaction didn’t end at the register - it began there.
That time is gone.
Today, you don’t need to chase luxury, it chases you. Every ad, every influencer, every credit offer tells you the same lie: this product is luxury, this service is luxury, this cheap plastic wrapped in branding is luxury. Meanwhile, the product in your hands feels thinner, the leather fades quicker and the so-called “exclusive” item can be found online for half-price with a coupon code.
This isn’t a market correction. This isn’t inflation. This is manufactured disappointment, dressed up and sold as premium.
In the next few minutes, we’re going to walk through what killed luxury, how it’s rotting from the inside across industries and why even the most iconic brands are cannibalizing their own legacy in the name of short-term gains. And at the end, we’ll shine a light on one industry that didn’t just follow this trend - they took a shovel and buried luxury six feet under.
If you’re reading this thinking, “Maybe it’s just me,” it’s not. The problem isn’t your income, it’s the product. It’s not your tastes that changed, it’s the business model that betrayed you.
And we’re going to break it all down - one layer at a time.
Maslow’s Pyramid Doesn’t Lie - Luxury Starts at the Top
Luxury was never supposed to be about convenience. It wasn’t supposed to be about trend-chasing or status theater. Luxury, by definition, was the pursuit of something higher - an achievement, an expression of self-actualization.
You don’t need a degree in behavioral economics to understand Maslow’s hierarchy of needs. Every human starts with the basics: food, shelter, safety. Then comes connection: friendships, community, love. Climb higher and you reach esteem - the respect of others, self-respect, achievement. At the top? Self-actualization. Fulfillment. Identity.
That’s where luxury used to live. Not in survival. Not in social validation. In identity.
Luxury wasn’t just something you bought - it was something that represented who you had become. A milestone that validated years of discipline, success and earned status. Luxury was for the person who didn’t need to prove anything… because they had already proven everything.
Today? Brands figured out it’s easier to fish at the bottom of the pyramid. Sell lifestyle to people struggling with rent. Sell status to people who’ve barely paid off last month’s minimums. Drape the language of luxury over products meant to appeal to insecurities, not identity.
What was once self-actualization has been repackaged and peddled to belonging - the third rung. It's not about achieving something, it’s about appearing like you have.
When luxury devolves from who you are to what you can mimic, it’s not luxury anymore. It’s costume jewelry on a collapsing framework.
Maslow didn’t lie - businesses did.
Manufactured Scarcity, Contrived Demand
Scarcity used to be natural. Limited resources, limited production, limited access - that’s what made something valuable. If it was rare, it was desirable. If it was hard to get, it meant you were part of a small, respected group.
That’s not what scarcity looks like anymore.
Today, scarcity is manufactured. Artificial. A lever pulled by companies to create demand that wouldn’t exist otherwise. They don’t limit production because the product is hard to make or because quality demands it - they limit production because it’s easier to sell mediocrity when you create a feeding frenzy.
Look at the modern playbook:
Watches that sit in backrooms while display cases stay empty - unless you “build a relationship.”
Cars “sold out” before they hit the lot, while backdoor deals send them to brokers and flippers who resell them for 20% over sticker.
Liquor allocations, where a bottle of bourbon that was $60 five years ago can’t be found for under $500, all because distributors and retailers play keep-away with the product.
Fashion houses launching $3,000 handbags but shipping one or two per store - forcing waiting lists that don’t exist because of demand, but because of deliberate throttling.
Manufactured scarcity is the illusion of exclusivity, while supply quietly floods side channels - grey markets, secondary markets, “preferred” dealers who pay to play. The brands tell you it’s limited, but you can find it everywhere… at a price.
This isn’t luxury. It’s orchestrated manipulation designed to force FOMO, push panic buying and make you believe you’ve achieved something… when all you’ve done is overpay for inventory they chose not to sell to you directly.
Maslow told us esteem comes from achievement. Manufactured scarcity hijacks that need and replaces achievement with access. It tricks you into thinking you’re winning when you’re just standing in line - hoping your number gets called.
In the old world, scarcity was proof of quality. In today’s world, scarcity is proof of marketing.
And when companies realize they can make more profit manipulating demand than building product excellence, the product always suffers. Quality goes down, prices go up and consumers stay addicted to the chase instead of the experience.
Scarcity wasn’t meant to be a gimmick. It was meant to be a reward for selectivity. Now it’s just a leash - and the customer base is chained to it.
And it gets worse.
Scarcity used to imply quality because the product was built to last. Now, it’s scarcity on the front end and planned obsolescence on the back. You fight to get the product… only to watch it deteriorate faster than anything that came before it.
Look around:
Watches with failing movements, but a waitlist wrapped around the block.
Cars loaded with electronics designed to glitch out right after the warranty expires.
“Luxury” fashion stitched together with cheaper materials while price tags balloon.
“Special edition” liquor rushed through bottling with no pedigree, only marketing spin.
Brands used to build things to outlive the buyer. They sold generational ownership. A watch that stayed in the family. A car that became a classic. A handbag that aged better with time.
Now they build for repeat churn, not lasting value. Get the customer to buy, get them to brag, get them to come back - not because it fulfilled them, but because it fell apart, wore down or got leapfrogged by the next marketing cycle.
Scarcity got weaponized. Then obsolescence got baked in. And luxury, the kind that once symbolized permanence, got replaced by a cheap imitation wearing a premium price tag.
Revenge Spending and the Debt Trap
When the world shut down, something broke - not just supply chains, but people’s relationship with spending. The pandemic didn’t just pause consumption, it created a backlog of emotional impulse, a psychological debt where people felt owed something. And as soon as the doors reopened, brands didn’t hesitate to capitalize.
Enter: revenge spending.
The phenomenon where people weren’t just spending - they were overcompensating. Buying more, buying bigger - and most importantly, buying dumber. Not because they needed to, but because it made them feel like they were taking back control.
Luxury brands knew it. They didn’t just watch it happen - they engineered it. Prices didn’t just go up because of inflation - they shot up because companies saw the perfect opportunity to reframe gouging as empowerment.
That handbag wasn’t overpriced - it was your victory lap.
That overpriced watch wasn’t a rip-off - it was you proving you survived.
That limited bottle wasn’t just expensive - it was your reward for enduring lockdown.
The narrative shifted from value to vengeance: spend to feel alive again.
And how did consumers fuel it? Not with savings - but with credit.
Buy Now, Pay Later services exploded.
Credit card balances hit all-time highs.
Default rates followed right behind.
Consumers weren’t climbing the ladder - they were digging deeper into financial holes, all while the brands congratulated them for it.
It used to be that luxury was the finish line: something you attained after you built wealth, after you established success. Now, it’s a debt-fueled shortcut to pretend you arrived, while your financial stability burns in the background.
Revenge spending didn’t empower anyone - it enslaved them to a cycle where brands manipulate psychology, banks collect interest, and the average consumer gets a brief mental orgasm… followed by months-long walk of shame.
This isn’t aspirational living. This is predatory economics dressed up as luxury culture.
And it didn’t stop there….
it’s not slowing down - it’s accelerating. Because brands aren’t focused on creating loyal customers anymore. They’re focused on harvesting them while they can still qualify for credit.
And we’ve seen how this story ends before.
In the lead-up to 2007, it wasn’t just housing that inflated - it was the normalization of over-leverage, the celebration of irresponsible debt and a cultural blind spot where everyone believed, “it’s different this time.” Banks extended credit to people they knew couldn’t repay. Consumers bought into lifestyles their paychecks couldn’t sustain. Businesses fattened margins with artificial demand, while the real economy couldn’t keep up.
The result? Massive defaults. Collapsing industries. Entire companies wiped out overnight. All because the game wasn’t about sustainable growth - it was about short-term extraction, right up until the house of cards came down.
We’re heading down the same road. But this time it’s wrapped in designer packaging and labeled “luxury.” Same debt, same overreach, same reckless expansion - but now it’s a handbag, a car, a bottle of liquor, and yes, even cigars, pushing consumers toward personal economic cliffs.
The more brands chase revenge spending, the more they accelerate a new bubble: one built on aspirational debt and fueled by consumer identity crises. When defaults spike - whether it’s credit cards, BNPL services or personal loans - the crash won’t be limited to finance. It will ripple through every sector propped up by this fake version of luxury.
This isn’t just bad for the consumer - it’s bad business. No brand survives when its core customers go broke. No industry stays premium when defaults erode discretionary spending. And no “luxury boom” can withstand a debt-fueled crash.
If companies can’t learn from 2008, they deserve what’s coming. And if consumers don’t wake up, they’re going to learn the hard way - again.
And it’s not just the average consumer at risk.
The top end - the so-called wealth class - isn’t immune. They just carry a different kind of exposure: wealth on paper. Equity portfolios, business valuations, stock options… none of it is cash-in-hand. And history shows how quickly “paper wealth” burns when debt-fueled bubbles collapse. The Great Depression eviscerated old money dynasties. The dot-com crash vaporized overnight tech millionaires. 2008 took down not just subprime homeowners, but CEOs, shareholders and high-net-worth investors who bought into their own illusion of financial invincibility.
The trickle-down effect doesn’t stop at the middle class - it drags down the very brands that abused it.
Luxury housing collapses when even upper-class buyers start offloading assets to cover margin calls.
High-end car markets freeze when suddenly everyone’s liquidity vanishes.
Watch auctions stall when speculative collectors can’t find the next greater fool.
And brand equity plummets when aspirational buyers default and premium buyers retreat to capital preservation.
This isn’t paranoia - it’s a cycle as old as modern capitalism. Families that controlled wealth for generations have lost it in a single economic downturn because they forgot that cash flow sustains wealth, not paper valuations. Companies that built empires on aspirational debt and financial leverage have watched it disappear overnight when the market corrected.
The more today’s “luxury” companies prop up sales through credit, oversell to the over-leveraged, and ride short-term market highs, the more they’re building a time bomb. A collapse where it’s not just the middle tier that suffers - it’s the illusion of top-tier wealth that takes the hit, too.
Luxury didn’t used to be about financial risk. It was about security, achievement and permanence. The more companies forget that, the more history guarantees they’ll end up a case study - just like the industries before them.
The Experience Scam: When Luxury Forgot Substance
When the cracks started to show, luxury didn’t fix itself - it pivoted. Instead of improving the product, brands found a new pitch: the “experience.” They didn’t need to make things better - they just needed to make you feel better.
Experience became the escape hatch from accountability.
Suddenly, you weren’t just buying a product - you were buying the story, the ritual, the moment.
You weren’t just purchasing a handbag - you were “welcomed into the brand family.”
You weren’t just getting a car - you were “becoming part of a performance heritage.”
That $25 pour of whiskey wasn’t just a drink - it was a “journey through tradition and terroir.”
And every cigar wasn’t just a cigar - it was a “celebration of craftsmanship” before you even lit it.
Here’s the ugly truth: most of it is performance art. It’s a distraction - a calculated psychological play to shift your focus away from the erosion of product quality, the inflation of price and the collapse of brand consistency.
This is where the scam fully unravels: the product got worse, the prices got higher, and the experience became the excuse.
But it didn’t stop there - because brands didn’t just replace product quality with empty experiences… they started punishing the people who actually cared about ownership.
The biggest betrayal of the “luxury experience” wasn’t the watered-down product or the inflated price - it was how brands weaponized the grey market while pretending to protect exclusivity.
If you wanted to buy from them directly - through their flagship stores, through their “authorized dealers” - you had to wait. You had to prove yourself. You had to spend more money on things you didn’t want, to qualify for the thing you actually wanted. Meanwhile, in the back alley of commerce, the product you were told was “impossible to get” was flowing like water.
You couldn’t get it at the castle - you had to go begging at the back door.
That limited car? The showroom had no allocation, but the broker down the street had three - at a $25,000 markup.
That sought-after bottle? The distillery’s visitor center was out of stock, but the auction site had cases available for five times the MSRP.
That coveted watch? Zero availability at retail, but grey market dealers could get you one tomorrow… if you swallowed the premium.
That exclusive cigar? The lounge had nothing, but a no-name website could send you a box in 48 hours.
This is the rot at the core: the brands built the castle, promised exclusivity, and then trained their most loyal, highest-potential customers to crawl through the mud outside the gates.
They taught you that if you were disciplined, if you followed the process, if you were loyal - you’d be punished with waiting lists, pre-qualifications and endless hoops. But if you went to the grey market, paid the premium and supported channel piracy - you’d get what you wanted instantly.
This isn’t luxury. This is a masterclass in destroying aspirational loyalty.
Luxury used to reward achievement. Now it rewards whoever’s willing to be gouged the fastest.
It’s not about the “experience” - it’s about creating artificial roadblocks inside the castle, so you feel lucky when you overpay outside of it.
And the longer companies play this game, the more they train their customer base to disrespect the brand, distrust the process and chase transactions instead of relationships.
The end result is predictable:
Loyalty erodes.
Lifetime customer value drops.
Brand equity sinks while transaction margins get squeezed.
And the product, which was supposed to be the centerpiece, becomes secondary to the hustle.
When luxury forgot substance, it didn’t just cheapen itself - it invited its best customers to escape through the back door.
That’s not aspirational. That’s institutional stupidity.
And just to be clear - this isn’t an anti-capitalist rant. Far from it. I’m a capitalist to the core. I believe in the free market. I believe in competition. I believe the market should reward those who build value and punish those who abuse trust. That’s exactly why this conversation matters.
The danger isn't the market turning on you - it's the market delivering exactly what you earned.
History shows us what happens when brands play games with consumer trust while ignoring product substance:
Sears was once the biggest retailer in America - destroyed because it forgot its core customer and let others outmaneuver it.
Blockbuster didn’t collapse because of piracy - it collapsed because it abused pricing, ignored innovation, and dismissed customer frustration… until Netflix took everything.
Blackberry dominated the phone market - until it became addicted to status quo profits and dismissed product innovation. The market didn’t care about past success; it cared about current value, and Blackberry got steamrolled.
Luxury isn’t immune to this reckoning - if anything, it’s more vulnerable. Because the more you sell “brand story” without backing it up, the harder the crash when the story unravels.
That’s the real warning: The free market rewards value… but it crushes arrogance. It rewards customer loyalty… but it obliterates consumer manipulation. It rewards product excellence… but it punishes engineered disappointment.
There’s always a disruptor waiting in the wings. There’s always a brand ready to offer actual value while incumbents gorge themselves on artificial scarcity and grey market games.
Luxury brands aren’t just gambling with quarterly profits - they’re gambling with survival.
Because the free market doesn’t care how long you’ve been at the top. It only cares what you’re delivering today.
And this is where I want to be clear - because I’m not writing this as some outsider throwing rocks at the glass from a distance. I’m writing this as someone who’s been inside the room. I’ve built brands. I’ve written the playbooks. I’ve seen how the machine works - how decisions get made when the pressure’s on, and how good strategy turns into bad shortcuts when people think no one’s watching.
I get the power of marketing. I understand the value of great positioning. But there’s a line - and it’s been getting crossed more and more. Not by accident. By design.
This isn’t just a rant, it’s a spotlight on a pattern. To show how the playbook keeps devolving. From building loyalty to manufacturing scarcity. From creating value to squeezing margins at any cost. From delivering quality to conditioning the customer into paying more for less.
And it’s not just happening inside boardrooms - it’s happening inside classrooms.
Which makes me ask - what are they even teaching in business schools anymore?
Are they teaching young executives to torch long-term trust for a quick quarterly win? Are they telling budding brand managers that customer loyalty is optional if you spin the story hard enough? Are they training future supply chain leads to believe product integrity is negotiable as long as the margin holds?
Because based on what I see… they’re definitely not teaching history. They’re not studying how Sony let Samsung take everything. They’re not learning how Cadillac went from aspirational to rental fleet punchline. They’re not reading how Nokia collapsed in plain sight while their competitors ate their lunch.
Or maybe they are reading it - and ignoring it anyway. Because it’s easier to copy the short-term blueprint, hit your bonus and let someone else clean up the mess after the fact.
But the market doesn’t forget. Customers don’t forget. And there’s no MBA crash course on how to escape a brand collapse once you’ve destroyed your own value.
So the real question is simple: are you building something that lasts… Or just looting the castle before the walls give out?
Supply Chain Fiction: The New Margins of Deception
If you believed the first lie was scarcity, the second is the supply chain. Every margin grab, every product downgrade, every quality shortcut gets pinned on “supply chain pressures”… but the numbers tell a different story.
Look at the historical baselines: commodity costs have always fluctuated, but the fundamentals don’t support what consumers are being charged. Core materials like cotton, leather and most non-precious metals haven’t tracked anywhere near the levels of retail price hikes we’ve seen. In cigars, raw tobacco leaf costs have stayed relatively steady - yet retail prices have skyrocketed. In spirits, base grains and production inputs remain stable, but premium liquor prices have exploded - not because the liquid got rarer, but because the real scarcity is self-inflicted, created by brands unwilling to control their own channels.
Meanwhile, companies have streamlined production, reduced quality control oversight, centralized sourcing to cheaper regions and expanded “cost efficiencies” through automation - all while jacking up prices under the guise of economic necessity.
And for those who think this is just about product cost - it’s not. It’s about margins by deception:
Raising prices during a crisis… but refusing to lower them when costs normalize.
Blaming transportation costs… while locking in cheaper long-term freight contracts behind the scenes.
Claiming supply constraints… while funneling stock into backdoor grey market pipelines to inflate artificial scarcity.
This isn’t responsible business. This is deliberate consumer misdirection - weaponizing economic headlines to squeeze the customer base while quietly expanding profit margins.
Luxury used to be cost justified - rare materials, high-touch production, artisanal labor. Now it’s margin justified - “We raised prices because we can, and you’re too distracted to notice.”
This isn’t inflation - it’s inflation theater. It’s not scarcity - it’s supply chain fiction. And it’s driving an industry-wide erosion of trust that’s going to be hard to reverse.
And while these companies cry about rising costs, every major economic report tells a different story.
Record profits. Year after year. Quarter after quarter. Luxury groups aren’t struggling - they’re thriving. Publicly traded luxury conglomerates are pumping out double-digit profit margins while claiming they “had no choice” but to raise prices on the consumer.
So where’s all that money going?
Is it going back into R&D to improve product quality? Is it going toward craftsmanship and artisan retention? Is it being reinvested into innovative product pipelines, better materials or local sourcing?
Because from where I’m standing - it doesn’t look like it.
It looks like an industry that’s copy-pasting playbooks, not innovating. It looks like the same product with less substance, wrapped in more story, sold for more money.
When the product gets cheaper to make, the experience gets thinner and the price keeps climbing - it’s not economics, it’s exploitation.
Luxury isn’t in a battle against cost - it’s in a race to see who can get away with delivering the least while charging the most.
That’s not market correction. That’s corporate greed with a marketing department attached.
And it’s happening in plain sight.
And while we’re on it - let’s talk about the other scam making the rounds: the "benevolent business" pitch.
How many Millennial and Gen Z founders are standing on stages, pitching investors, saying: “We discovered this amazing craft in a third-world country… we’re giving back… we’re creating sustainable luxury while empowering marginalized communities.”
Sounds noble, right? Reality check - it’s the oldest business model in the world dressed up in Ivy League pitch-deck language.
You didn’t invent ethical business. You found a low-cost labor source, wrapped it in a feel-good narrative and pay just enough for the workforce not to leave. That’s not “impact capitalism” - that’s cost arbitrage with a moral sticker slapped on top.
Let’s stop pretending it’s anything else.
You didn’t reinvent commerce - you sourced cheap product and sold it for premium prices.
You didn’t fix global inequality - you created a profitable outlet and paid people to keep making your product while you stacked margin.
You’re not a revolutionary - you’re a capitalist like the rest of us, you just got better PR coaching.
This isn’t to say paying fair wages is wrong. But let’s call it what it is: business. You didn’t solve poverty. You found a margin play that photographs well. And the customers get sold on the story while the product gets cheaper to make and more expensive to buy.
You’re not building luxury - you’re building narrative leverage. And the more people wake up to it, the more that feel-good margin bubble pops, just like every other overplayed brand gimmick.
You want to build something real? Start with honesty. Deliver product excellence first - story second.
You Can’t Lie When the Whole World’s Watching
Here’s the part brands don’t want to see, let alone admit:
There are no secrets anymore…
You used to be able to hide behind controlled messaging. Gatekeepers. Industry media. Fancy showrooms. Now? Every blindspot gets blasted to millions in real time.
Wondering how brand-new watches end up flooding the grey market before customers even see them? Instagram’s got the timestamped proof.
Questioning why your “exclusive allocation” cigar is already half-price online? Reddit has the inventory screenshots.
Curious if that “handmade luxury” bag was actually built in a sweatshop? TikTok’s showing you the factory floor.
Doubting why your “limited edition” whiskey gets flipped for 5x the price but is sitting in backrooms? YouTube’s got the leaked wholesaler lists.
Social media didn’t create the problem - it exposed it. The same people you lied to are now your watchdogs, armed with footage and global reach. And every fake scarcity drop, every channel-stuffing scandal, every quality downgrade you thought would go unnoticed? It’s front-page content before your board meeting even starts.
You’re not fighting market forces anymore - you’re fighting transparency. And it’s a fight you’re going to lose.
Because when you keep pretending you’re selling luxury while cutting corners, people don’t just complain - they document it, distribute it and destroy your narrative in real time.
It’s not just leaks. It’s receipts. And the longer you pretend customers aren’t watching, the faster they dismantle your narrative in public view.
Premium Cigars – The Industry that Buried Luxury Further Than the Seeds in the Ground
If there’s one industry that took every bad lesson from the luxury world and applied it with a vengeance – it’s the industry I’m in… it’s premium cigars.
This should have been the last stronghold for authenticity. An industry built on centuries-old craftsmanship, heritage, agricultural artistry - a product that takes years from seed to smoke, handled by generations of skilled hands. It had every tool to be the last honest luxury product standing.
Instead, it buried itself under the same garbage heap as everyone else.
The playbook is identical:
Price hikes divorced from quality improvements.
Limited editions that are anything but limited.
Core lines watered down while brands chase quarterly new releases.
Discount channel flooding that trains consumers to wait for deals, not savor products.
They’ve slapped “luxury” on everything from $5 bundle brands to $40 cigars pumped out of factories faster than they can dry the tobacco. They’ve created fake scarcity with annual releases that somehow always show up on discount sites six months later. They’ve built “brand exclusivity” while shoveling backdoor deals to grey market e-comm, crushing any retailer trying to do it the right way.
And the worst part? They’ve trained their own best customers - those who used to be the loudest advocates, the ones who built shop culture, who hosted herfs, who promoted brands without being paid - to go scavenging for discounts instead of building loyalty.
In one breath, the industry tells you their cigars are rare, artisanal, crafted with love. In the next, they’re undercutting themselves, flooding back channels and killing retailer confidence.
Core lines? Neglected. Brand identity? Diluted. Pricing discipline? Non-existent. Customer loyalty? Hollowed out.
And just like the worst of the luxury world, they hide behind “experiences”, flashy packaging, overpriced event tickets and “exclusive” blends that change nothing except the ring gauge and the box color.
Premium cigars didn’t just forget what made them special - they buried their own luxury status deeper than the seeds in the ground, chasing fast dollars over history, volume over value, churn over craftsmanship.
This was supposed to be the one industry that stayed honest. It chose short-term cash over long-term respect - and it’s paying the price, one burned-out customer at a time.
And since we’re calling it out - let’s make it uncomfortable for everyone.
To the retailers: why are you still carrying the products from brands you know are actively tanking your business? Brands that are feeding discount channels while asking you to buy more boxes, host more events and carry more deadweight? Is it just easier to blame the market than to stand up for your humidor? Are you afraid to build something special because it actually requires selling… instead of just moving boxes until the next deal sheet lands?
To the consumers: why are you putting up with this? We hear you - every retailer hears you - when you walk in and say, “I can get it online for 40% off.” You’re frustrated for a reason: because you know you’re being played. You see the same brand selling you two different stories - “luxury experience” in the lounge and “fire sale pricing” on your phone. You keep chasing the deal because the industry trained you to - but deep down, you know the whole thing feels hollow now, don’t you?
And to the manufacturers - whether you own the ecosystem or not - why aren’t you doing better? Why aren’t you protecting your luxury status? Why aren’t you defending your core lines, if you even have a real core left? Why do you keep pumping out the next limited edition, the next sub-brand, the next bundle that devalues your own story, your own product, your own place in this industry? Why do you continue to ignore channel control, churn SKUs and burn through goodwill while you drown in self-inflicted MUDA?
This industry was built on craftsmanship, connection, and consistency. What’s left now is a cheap imitation wrapped in buzzwords and pricing games - and if everyone keeps playing along, there won’t be much left worth defending.
Not for the retailers who’ve turned their humidors into clearance racks. Not for the consumers who’ve been trained to chase price instead of quality. And not for the manufacturers who’ve hollowed out their own brands in exchange for a few good quarters of shipment numbers.
At some point, the market always corrects. At some point, the burnout overtakes the buzz, and the deals stop moving boxes, and the loyalists stop showing up - because they don’t see anything left to be loyal to.
That’s where this industry is headed unless someone, somewhere, decides to break the cycle. Because you can’t pretend to be luxury while acting like liquidation. You can’t build long-term respect while selling short-term gimmicks. And you can’t bury your integrity and expect your legacy to survive.
Luxury Is Dead - And Everyone’s at the Funeral
Luxury isn’t fading. It’s not “evolving.” It’s dead. The casket’s in the ground, the dirt’s been shoveled and the headstone’s already carved.
If you’ve been paying attention, you’re here at the funeral, watching it all play out in real time.
The disciplined operators - the ones who built real value, protected their product, respected their customers - they’re standing at the gravesite, heads held high. They didn’t cheat the market, and they’re not getting buried today. They’re here to learn, to observe, to make sure they don’t end up next.
The brands who sold out their identity, gutted their product and chased every short-term win? They’re not standing anywhere. They’re six feet under, buried by their own decisions. No one’s mourning them - just reading off lessons of what not to do.
And then there’s the rest - the ones standing uncomfortably at the plot next door, shovel in hand, still telling themselves, “We’ve got it under control.”
Here’s the unavoidable truth: people will keep buying luxury. Not because of branding tricks. Not because of scarcity games. Because Maslow said so. Because people will always climb toward aspiration, identity and self-expression.
The demand will always be there. The question is where it lands - with brands that respect it, or with the next flashy gimmick that flames out in five years.
So… if you’re an operator, look around.
Are you burying the brand? Are you standing at the funeral, learning how not to end up in the box? Or are you standing at your own plot, shovel in hand, thinking you’ve still got time?
That’s the only decision that matters now. Because the customer will keep climbing the pyramid - The only question is whether they’ll climb over your grave or walk through your door.
Who’s Left Actually Building Value?
After all this, the question every smart operator should be asking is simple: who’s actually building value anymore?
Not just pumping out product. Not just chasing trends. Not just playing musical chairs with pricing.
Who’s standing up for the customer? Who’s protecting their core product? Who’s willing to walk away from shortcuts to build something real?
Because those are the companies - across every industry - that will survive when the bubble bursts. The ones who understand that long-term value is built in truth, consistency, and real craftsmanship, not in fake scarcity, backdoor discounting, or pretend exclusivity.
That’s the work we focus on at The Cigar Profit - calling out the rot, highlighting the gaps, and showing serious operators how to build brands that outlast the gimmicks and outlive the cycles. Whether it’s cigars or any other luxury product, the rules don’t change: protect your brand, respect your customer, control your channel and deliver a product you’re proud to sell at full price.
If you’re tired of watching the same bad playbook destroy margins, customer trust, and brand equity, this is your wake-up call.
It’s time to stop chasing the short game and get back to building something with staying power.
You can follow The Cigar Profit for more brutal honesty like this. Or you can reach out directly - because fixing the problem starts with a real strategy, not another shiny brochure.
Your move.
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