I don't seek social status—in every way, except my actions

On the subtle ways we stumble into status-seeking, and how to want less while living more.

Whenever I travel to a new place, there’s one quiet quest that kicks off the moment I land. Not for museums. Not for architectural marvels. Not for meaningful cultural exchange with locals.

No, no. I’m on the hunt for GREAT designer bags.

Sorry — did I say great? I meant fake. But not just any fakes.

The fakes. The crème de la counterfeit of handbags.

The kind that could saunter past a discerning sales associate at Saks without raising an eyebrow. The kind you’d swear a tiny Italian artisan named Gustavo lost sleep over, weeping into its leather. The kind that, if accidentally left on a café chair, would spark a full-blown custody battle between strangers.

I approach this noble pursuit with the rigor of a trained forensic analyst. I scrutinize every seam. I run my fingers along the zippers. And I evaluate the weight of the replica’s hardware in my palm like I’m training for the Olympic shot put.

And when I finally find a great one — indiscernible at the molecular level from its authentic counterpart — oh, the joy!

The quiet thrill of fooling the world into thinking I spent $4,000 on a Chanel, when I really spent $40 and some bargaining grit in a back alley next to a falafel stand.

But recently, I started to ask myself: Why do I get such delight from this hunt for marvelously fake handbags? Why do I get such an oddly satisfying rush from passing off high-end fashion — even faux fashion — as my own?

Is it some quiet rebellion against capitalism and the absurd markup of designer goods? Or is it something a little closer to home — and a little harder to face?

That maybe, deep down, I crave social status more than I realize.

And definitely more than I care to admit.

The uncomfortable truth: we all love status symbols

I don’t dream of Porsches, penthouse suites or coveted Zipcodes with multi-car garages. I don’t pine for granite countertops, Tiffany’s charm bracelets or matching monogrammed luggage sets.

I would never…never… call myself materialistic. How shallow! So unrelatable to someone like me. Someone who claims to care about purpose, meaning and depth. Someone who knows what really matters.

Family. Love. Community.

Obviously not social status.

And yet — when I take a step back and study my life? The track record tells a different story.

Time and time again, I’ve chosen things that are admired. That signal I’m whole. Polished. Successful. And not just with traditional material goods — like handbags and trending Birkenstocks. But with more subtle cues, too.

The slippery, harder-to-detect kind. The kind that don’t scream, but simmer:

Job titles. Travel itineraries. Curated Instagram photos. Coveted corporate logos.

Status seeking isn’t always flashy or material. Sometimes, it just looks like the curated accumulation of subtle “status markers,” that sneak into our lives under the guise of virtue.

It masquerades as “ambition” in career, “wanderlust” in travel, or “aesthetic” in taste. But underneath, they all signal the same thing: arrival in a coveted lifestyle.

And often, the right tax bracket.

I’ve chosen signals of status, even if I claim that it isn’t what I value. My status-seeking disguised itself so cleverly, I didn’t see it for what it was — something I just re-branded in my mind, into character traits that sounded more palatable.

Yea. I don’t value status at all. In every way but my choices.

So how do we actually want less, compare less and deconstruct any subtle status longing — without just preaching minimalism from a house filled with five-figure furniture and white upholstery that screams: “I’ve REALLY transcended materialism!”

I’m still learning how to myself.

But I think the first step is to simply, talk about it.

3 ways to cure our attachment to social status

We’re probably all a little more status-seeking than we’d like to admit. And yet, the moments I’ve felt the most free — most grounded, most fully myself — have always been the ones where status had no oxygen.

When I’m deep in writing, so immersed I forget that anyone might read it. When I’m somewhere with no internet, no signal — and no way to signal anything back.

Those moments are rare. But they offer a glimpse into something quieter. They remind me that a life untethered to constant signaling is possible — and may even be the one most worth longing for.

So how do we begin to loosen our grip on status — and find something sturdier to hold instead? Here are a few shifts that I’m still wobbling my way through, but slowly learning to make.

1. Admit your envy out loud. Then, replace comparison with curiosity.

Status-seeking is often a symptom of comparison — the constant measuring of ourselves against others, often without even realizing it. But one of the fastest ways to loosen the grip of status-seeking is to name the thing you want, and stop pretending that you don’t. Name the thing, not just to yourself, but out loud to someone you trust.

“I’m jealous of her house.”
“I wish I was published in TIME Magazine like him.”
“I wish I had gotten chosen for that promotion.”

Saying these things doesn’t make you petty — it makes you more vulnerable, open and authentic than 90% of humans.

But behind every envy is often a deeper want: for respect, for financial security, for joy. But we can’t identify and tend to that deeper desire, if we’re busy pretending we’re above the surface-level one.

And once you name it, you can ask the better question: What does this envy reveal? And what might I learn from it?

The person whose lifestyle sparks envy — ask them how they cultivated it. The moment you feel behind in some realm — dig into that domain, and explore alternate ways to approach it.

Curiosity doesn’t erase comparison, but it channels it more boldly. And taking action always feels better than living in unspoken insecurities.

2. Audit your aspirations. Ruthlessly.

We’ve all been sold a thousand ideas of what makes a “good” life — and most of those ideas are wrapped in aesthetics and accolades. The dream job. The dreamy kitchen. The dream partner with the salt-and-pepper hair who makes pour-over coffee with deep eye contact.

But how much of what you’re chasing is truly yours? And how much is borrowed — unconsciously inherited from the feeds and voices around you?

When I looked closely, I realized I didn’t want a more lavish life. I wanted a more honest one — with more unscheduled free time and less optics. Less about how things looked, and more about how they felt. And strangely, that kind of life — quieter, simpler, less adorned — felt bigger. Maybe because it grew from the inside out.

Simply put: audit your aspirations. Ask: “If no one could see this, would I still want it? Or, would I choose something else entirely?”

3. Choose what won’t go in your highlight reel

We’re all curating. That’s not a flaw — it’s a function of being human in public. But curation becomes harmful when it turns into distortion. When we hide all the parts of our life that are unflattering, that we start losing touch with an honest calibration on our own feelings.

So try this: intentionally leave some of your best moments off the record.

Keep some things sacred. Don’t post the most stunning photo. Don’t humble brag about that cool invite. And it’s not like you need to go entirely cold turkey on some social sharing — Hell, I’m not that enlightened.

But every now and then, maybe we can let a beautiful moment pass without trying to bottle it up as proof that our life is enviable.

And slowly, you’ll start to find that releasing status signals helps you see your genuine wants beneath it all more clearly. And isn’t that — that beautiful discovery of ourselves — what we’re all hoping to find anyway?

Conclusion

I’m still learning this.

Still catching myself being drawn to flashy job titles. Still occasionally scrolling with envy. Still getting that little ego rush when someone notices something I hoped they would in my background, and praises me for my accomplishments.

But at least now — I can see it.

I can sit with it. Laugh at it. Poke fun at my own occasional shallowness. Enough to begin gently, tenderly, loosening its grip on my subconscious.

Because after a lifetime of subtle status chasing, I’ve realized something about it all: status seeking never satisfies me. It only keeps me hungry and hollow — wondering if I’ll ever reach completion.

But presence? Honesty? And learning how to live in increasing alignment with who I really am? What I really want?

That doesn’t just fleetingly appease. It roots deeply. Not to lift us higher in the eyes of others. But to hold us steady, when no one else is watching. So we can anchor ourselves and commit whole-heartedly to honoring our truest values.

That’s where courage is found, and where joy lives.

And, all along — that’s the only kind of soul-fulfilling status that was ever actually worth chasing.