Are you as confused about the word ‘luxury’ as I am? Even a few years ago, the word was supposed to imply something that was meant for a select few.

Now, everything from bottled water to dog collars comes with this adjective stitched on. So, are we, despite the economic downturn, seeing a boom in luxury products? Or is it that cynical but savvy manufacturers have cottoned on to the market’s seemingly insatiable demand for ‘luxury’ everything?

It is certainly nice to own nice things — a watch with a complex mechanism, a hand-stitched bag, delicately embroidered cushion covers, a coffee machine with those milk froth thingies that make cappuccinos. Give me a choice between staying at the YMCA and a beautiful resort, I’d vote resort. Travelling first-class, heck, even business class (particularly if your employer is paying) can make the longest journey tolerable. While a ‘luxury’ restaurant is no guarantee for a great meal, chances are the luxury restaurant will have invested in the services of a half-way decent chef, so your chances of getting a palatable meal will certainly be higher than, say, at the corner diner (though I have eaten some great meals in little holes-in-the-wall).

My objection to the use of the word luxury is just that you see it everywhere and so often that it has ceased to mean anything. The luxury industry is just that, an industry that churns out products that bestows facsimile status on its users. If  luxury is supposed to imply exclusive, then the easy availability of the product — pen, mobile, vacation, potato chips — as something your next door neighbour is just as likely to own robs it of its cachet, doesn’t it?

Even a fool can see through the nexus between glossy magazines (‘purveyors of the fine life’ or some such nonsense) and luxury products. Just last week, I was flipping through a magazine at the doctor’s clinic, browsing through an editorial feature that featured ‘must-have’ products. A few pages later and voila, one of the watches featured as a ‘must-have’ popped up again, this time in an ad.

Most important, what economic factors could possibly justify the mark-ups? I mean, how much can a handbag actually cost to produce — even if it’s made of alligator skin? Given that some bags cost as much as a compact car, that is not an unreasonable question. Yet, and here’s the strange thing, the more expensive the handbag, the more desirable it seems.

So though luxury is now as common as the H1N1 virus, some manufacturers like to pretend there is a huge shortage for their products and perfectly self-respecting women wait  sometimes for as long as six months for a bag that is obscenely expensive. And what happens when they finally attain the Holy Grail? They end up becoming walking and talking ads for the product by sporting its logo proudly. Why would anyone pay for a bag that has LV or whatever stamped all over it?

But to say that the mark-up is only for the logo is simplifying things. Why would anyone put down $5,000 for Frette bedsheets? But then again, when the luxury condo you live in cost $10 million, what’s a few thousand for such items as designer sheets, soaps and scented candles?

Does this mean there is nothing like luxury? Depends on how you define it. For most of us living in the 21^st century, luxury means time — time to spend with your children, time to read a book or time to watch the sun go down, thinking of nothing in particular.

Luxury is when my trusted tailor, Munna Masterji, comes home to pick up fabric, disappears with it for days (could be months, depending on his mood) and returns with garments that look like they’ve been stitched by elves; as a bonus, he’ll throw in a little purse made from the left-overs. And get this: I know for a fact that nobody else in the world will ever wear that exact same garment. Name one couture brand that can promise you that.

Luxury is when Pankaj, my fishmonger in Delhi’s INA Market, calls urgently to say that he’s just received a supply of fresh fish roe and could I send someone jaldi (quickly) to pick it up? Luxury is waking up early to go to the wholesale flower market and returning with armloads of flowers, knowing that you don’t have enough vases to put them in. Luxury is living through troubled times, sickness or ill health, and receiving the wealth of friendship from strangers and old friends alike.

The maharajas of old India sustained many of today’s luxury houses (Cartier, Boucheron, Rolls Royce etc) by commissioning fabulous bespoke pieces for themselves. In today’s democratic India, anybody can live king-size. But real luxury? Now, that is something money just can’t buy.

(Namita is a New Delhi-based journalist and author and writes on social, political and lifestyle trends. She is currently working on her second book)