10 purchases that instantly reveal you're trying to buy your way into a different social class

My friend just bought a $3,000 espresso machine. Not because he likes coffee—he drinks gas station brew. But his new startup friends all have them, and suddenly his Keurig felt like wearing Crocs to the Met Gala. Now he makes one nervous cappuccino every morning, burns the milk, and goes to Starbucks anyway. I love him for trying.

That's the thing about trying to level up through purchases: we all think we're being subtle, but our Amazon history tells a different story. Not because these things are wrong—they're just so obviously strategic. Like we're all playing dress-up with credit cards.

I get it. I really do. Consumer psychology research calls it "aspirational consumption"—buying what we think signals membership in the group we admire. We're all guilty of it. My own apartment has evidence of at least three different phases of who I thought I wanted to be.

1. The entry-level luxury car you're definitely leasing

Nothing says "I'm trying" like a base model BMW with no options. You know the one—the 3 Series that costs less than a loaded Toyota but comes with that blue and white badge that makes you feel different at stoplights.

I had a friend who did this. She'd casually mention she "drives a BMW" and let people imagine the rest. Meanwhile, she was out here with manual seats and no heated steering wheel, but honestly? She felt amazing driving it, and that's worth something. The actual wealthy people in their 2011 Subarus probably don't even notice, but that's not really the point, is it?

2. The Canada Goose jacket in Los Angeles

It's 65 degrees and you're dressed for an Arctic expedition. That $1,500 parka isn't keeping you warm—it's keeping you relevant. Or so you think. The patch is positioned perfectly for your Instagram stories, which are all taken indoors because actually wearing it outside would cause heatstroke.

Real cold-weather people are wearing some brand you've never heard of that costs twice as much and looks like it came from REI's clearance rack. But you wouldn't know that because you bought your credibility at Nordstrom.

3. The wine fridge for your studio apartment

You might not drink much wine. Maybe you have three bottles total, gifts from various occasions. But that 12-bottle wine fridge is humming away, keeping your modest collection at the perfect temperature. Is it necessary? No. Does it make you feel sophisticated? Absolutely.

I had one in my first apartment. It held exactly two bottles of Trader Joe's finest and a six-pack of beer. But every time I opened my actual fridge, I felt like someone who had their life together. Sometimes that feeling is worth the counter space.

4. The Peloton gathering dust

Two grand for the home gym experience. You rode it religiously for exactly two weeks, posted about your "journey" with genuine enthusiasm, and now it's holding your jackets. The monthly subscription still hits your credit card because canceling feels like admitting something you're not ready to admit.

We all know someone with a Peloton story. Mine lasted three months, which I consider a victory. The thing is, when you bought it, you really believed you'd become a morning workout person. That optimism? That's worth something, even if the bike is now basically furniture.

5. The Hermès bracelet that costs more than your savings account

It's the cheapest thing Hermès makes, but it's still Hermès, right? That leather bracelet that cost you a month's rent is your ticket to the big leagues. Except everyone knows it's the "I can't afford a Birkin but I need something with that orange box" starter pack.

You wear it every single day because cost-per-wear math is the only thing keeping you from crying. Rich people are wearing friendship bracelets their kids made at summer camp.

6. The business class flight to Vegas

It's a two-hour flight. You paid an extra $800 to sit slightly forward and get a free drink you could have bought for $12. You took seventeen photos of the lounge, your seat, the amenity kit you'll never use, and that champagne you don't actually like.

The CEO in economy with his noise-canceling headphones and Kindle doesn't even notice you boarding first. He's flying to Vegas seventeen times this year. You're still paying off this trip.

7. The standalone espresso cups nobody uses

You don't have a proper dining table, but you have $200 Italian espresso cups. They're displayed in your kitchen like tiny art pieces, waiting for the sophisticated coffee moments you keep meaning to have. Meanwhile, you drink from whatever mug is clean, usually with a corporate logo on it.

I bought a set of these once. Used them exactly twice, both times when my mom visited. She was impressed though, and honestly, sometimes that's enough. They're still there, beautiful and unused, holding space for the person I might become.

8. The Vitamix for your smoothie phase

$600 to make smoothies with more power. You justified it as an "investment in health." You've made exactly four smoothies and blended some soup once to feel better about the purchase. It takes up a quarter of your counter space and sounds like a jet engine.

The funny thing? When you do use it, you feel like you've got your life together. That smoothie tastes like accomplishment, even if it's the first one you've made in three months. We're all just trying to be the person who uses their Vitamix regularly.

9. The bathroom upgrade nobody asked for

Suddenly your regular toilet isn't enough. You need heated seats, custom water pressure, and Bluetooth connectivity. You spent what some people pay for a car to revolutionize your bathroom experience. Your friends are either impressed or concerned—there's no middle ground.

I'll admit it: I looked into this. Spent three hours reading bidet reviews at 2 AM. The only thing that stopped me was my landlord. But the dream lives on. We all want to feel fancy somewhere in our lives, and honestly, why not the bathroom?

10. The watches (plural) you can't tell time on

You're a "watch guy" now. You have three automatic watches that you can't read without your phone, displayed in a case that costs more than the watches. You use terms like "movement" and "complication" that you learned from YouTube videos at 2 AM.

The old money guy wearing his grandfather's Timex doesn't even notice your Swiss engineering. He's too busy actually being places on time.

Final thoughts

Here's what I've learned about aspirational purchases: we're all doing it, just at different price points and with different props. The espresso machine, the BMW, the Peloton—they're not really about fooling other people. They're about trying on different versions of ourselves, seeing what fits.

Sometimes these purchases are rehearsals for who we're becoming. Sometimes they're expensive reminders of who we're not. Either way, they're human. We buy things that make us feel closer to our ideal selves, even if that ideal changes every few years (hence my storage unit full of various phases).

The real joke isn't that we make these purchases—it's that we think we're the only ones doing it. Everyone has their version. Your Vitamix, my watches, their wine fridge. We're all out here trying to buy our way into feeling like we belong somewhere, even if we're not quite sure where that is yet.

My friend still makes terrible coffee every morning in his $3,000 machine. But you know what? He loves that machine. It makes him happy. And honestly, isn't that worth more than perfect cappuccino foam? (The answer is yes, but don't tell him I said that—he's still learning to steam milk.)