7 “investment” pieces that aren’t investments at all

You know that moment when a brand calls something an “investment piece” and your brain does the math like, “If I wear it 400 times, that’s only… okay still expensive”?

Same.

I love nice things. I’ve worked around luxury long enough to appreciate craftsmanship, great materials, and design that ages like Parmigiano. But let’s be honest: a lot of what gets sold as an “investment” is actually a very pretty expense.

Buy it if it brings you joy. Just don’t pretend it’s a portfolio.

Here are 7 “investment pieces” that almost never behave like investments—and what I’d do instead.

1. Designer “it” bags

I get the appeal. The leather smells like a small miracle and the hardware could double as jewelry.

But unless you’re buying rare, historically significant pieces and storing them like museum curators, most designer bags are the financial equivalent of driving a new car off the lot. They’re fashion, which means trends turn over faster than a brunch table.

Buy a bag for fit, function, and the grin it puts on your face. Not because a TikTok said it “holds value.”

What to do instead: choose timeless over “it.” A clean shape in a neutral color you’ll carry for five years beats a logo hurricane you’ll baby for five months.

2. Limited-edition sneakers

Sneaker flips look thrilling on YouTube. In real life? It’s queues, bots, fees, and a market that moves like a soufflé—up one second, collapsed the next.

Plus, rare kicks you actually wear stop being “deadstock” the moment they touch pavement, and deadstock in your closet doesn’t spark joy—it gathers dust and resentment.

Buy them because you love them on your feet, not because you love them on StockX.

What to do instead: if you care about longevity, go for classic silhouettes in durable materials. If you’re hunting “value,” invest in your feet: custom insoles, better socks, shoes that don’t murder your arches.

3. High-end kitchen showpieces

As someone who’s spent way too much time in professional kitchens, I promise: the tool doesn’t make the chef. That $900 blender won’t suddenly turn your Tuesday soup into a Michelin course.

A lot of “investment” kitchen gear ends up as countertop sculpture. It looks fantastic. It collects compliments. It also collects dust because it’s heavy, fiddly, or a pain to clean.

Buy the gear you’ll use weekly. Not the gear you imagine a future you might use “once I start making almond butter from scratch.”

What to do instead: invest in three workhorses—a sharp chef’s knife you’ll maintain, a heavy pan you actually lift, and a cutting board that stays put. Then invest in skills. Knife skills yield ROI every single night.

4. Trendy home gym machines

If the marketing video includes a living room the size of a small airport and everyone’s glistening like a coconut commercial, proceed with caution.

Big-ticket machines can be great… if they match your training style and you’ll use them year-round. But many become “aspirational furniture”—expensive clothes racks haunting the corner while you do push-ups on the rug.

Buying the machine is not the habit. The habit is the habit.

What to do instead: start with a simple kit you can’t ignore—adjustable dumbbells, a kettlebell, bands, a mat. If you still want the spaceship six months later, you’ll actually use it.

5. “Smart” devices you’ll outgrow in a year

“Smart” is another word I side-eye. Smart scales. Smart mirrors. Smart mugs that nag you through an app. Some are cool. Others are subscription puppets disguised as objects.

The trap is feature-chasing. You spend big because it promises to optimize you into a better human, then the app breaks, the battery dies, or the company pivots and your Very Important Data lives in a server farm and your drawer.

Buy the thing that does the job when Wi-Fi is having a mood.

What to do instead: choose durable basics with replaceable parts, and add “smart” only where it truly reduces friction. A dumb kettle that boils fast is smarter than a smart kettle that needs a firmware update at 6 a.m.

6. Capsule-wardrobe “forever” staples you never actually wear

I love a good uniform. But the internet’s idea of “forever staples” often looks like a minimalist who moonlights as a museum guard.

If it doesn’t fit your body, lifestyle, climate, or personality, it’s not a forever piece—it’s a silent guilt-shirt. Price doesn’t make something timeless. Use does.

I’ve made this mistake with a beautiful jacket I wore twice because it pinched at the shoulders. It was an “investment,” all right: an investment in learning to move my arms when I shop.

What to do instead: define your actual use-cases. Commute in heat? Travel a lot? Work from home? Buy for your life, not for a mood board. Tailoring is a better “investment” than a price tag.

7. Collectible bottles

As a former luxury F&B guy, I love a cellar tour. But most of the wine and spirits pitched as “liquid assets” are really “liquid stories.” If you plan to sell, you need immaculate storage, provenance, and a buyer. If you plan to drink… congrats, you’ve just “depreciated” it in a single delightful evening.

And unless you’re chasing unicorns with serious expertise, secondary markets are crowded with people who are very, very good at separating enthusiasts from their money.

Buy bottles to share. The return is memories, not margin.

What to do instead: invest in tasting knowledge. Learn regions, producers, vintages, and food pairings. That education compounds every time you order or host.

The bottom line

An “investment piece” that doesn’t appreciate, generate income, or meaningfully lower long-term costs is an expense with excellent branding.

That’s fine.

Joy is allowed. Just buy for joy — and invest in the unsexy stuff that compounds: skills, health, sleep, strong relationships, and a little cash buffer.

Those pay dividends every single day.