The longer I look at it, the harder it is to believe that things which are truly rare are still recognizable at first glance.
Everyone talks about rarity. Brands, marketing, consumers. The word keeps circulating, but it feels as though it has lost its original meaning. Even the best brands no longer seem rare. They are simply highly visible.
Something changed along the way.
Rarity used to be naturally tied to time. To access. To patience. Expensive brands could exist without constant presence because their strength did not lie in reminding people of themselves, but in consistency. They did not need to be everywhere, because they were not for everyone.
Today, that connection has been severed.
Rarity has been detached from time and plugged into distribution. Instead of selection, we have reach. Instead of limited access — algorithms. If you can reach everyone, you have to speak louder. If you can be present everywhere, absence begins to look like a mistake.
In this world, rarity stops being a condition and starts becoming a message.
Marketing has created a paradox: we increasingly judge brands by how their signals look, rather than by how the product behaves over time.
The logo, the narrative, the publishing tempo — everything becomes more important than silence and continuity. What was meant to be an exception now has to shout just to be noticed.
Not because it is worse.
But because the system demands it.
You can see this even in brands that historically built their position on inaccessibility. When they begin producing playful, ironic, or lightweight content disconnected from the substance of the product, it is not accidental. It is an attempt to adapt to a world where attention matters more than reputation, and recognition travels faster than trust.
As a result, rarity becomes loud.
And what is loud ceases to be rare.
This does not mean that true rarity has disappeared. Rather, it has become harder to see. There are still brands and products that are rarely talked about. That do not advertise aggressively. That do not explain their price.
And very often they do so not because they cannot afford otherwise, but because they do not have to.
They have been present for years.
And that is enough.
I only wonder whether, in a world accustomed to noise, we are still capable of recognizing something that does not ask for attention.
— Michał
Refined Money
