Nailed or Failed

Some luxury brands last forever. Others dilute and disappear. What separates them? Through three pairs of brands, this project dives into the real reasons for luxury’s success, trying to give answers to some of the industry’s most pressing problems: how do you grow without becoming ordinary? Is innovation sustainable in luxury? How to control scarcity and demand?

AMAN vs SOHO HOUSE

Exclusivity and luxury go hand in hand, but what does exclusivity really mean in the lifestyle industry? Can it change over time and be shaped by companies?

Let’s look at two heavy hitters of the sector with two completely different approaches to exclusivity: Aman Resorts and Soho House. One of them became world-famous and maintained its luxury appeal throughout the decades, while the other completely lost its positioning and diluted its brand.

One nailed it and one failed it. Let’s break down why.

In 1988, Mr. Adrian Zecha pitched an idea so absurd that every bank he approached turned him down. He wanted to build a small resort in Phuket, Thailand, with just 40 rooms, and charge five times the normal rate. After being turned down several times, Zecha and three friends invested their own capital, giving birth to Aman Resorts.

After forty years, Aman has not changed its philosophy: the brand operates only 35 properties worldwide. Not 350. Thirty-five, a number so low for the hotel industry that would spell failure for every other hotel chain.

Now consider Soho House, a private members club for creatives such as writers, directors, and artists, founded in London in 1995 by Mr. Nick Jones. Here, the real product was not the club itself, which might have been like any other in the city, but was the network of connections the club gave access to. Memberships were intentionally hard to get, and every member felt like they belonged to a selected group.

Both brands used artificial scarcity to create a sense of exclusivity and desire for their products.

Aman's strategy is simple: surgical growth, small scale, high prices.

In 2024, the average spend per stay exceeded $5,000. Every property is capped at under 50 rooms, not as an aesthetic choice, but as a structural commitment to privacy.

The locations are carefully chosen: on one hand, they hold intrinsic cultural value, which the brand tries to incorporate in its experience, and on the other they are situated in remote or prestigious areas. The most famous example is Amangiri, an ultra-luxury resort stranded in the middle of the Utah desert, in complete isolation and away from any modern distraction.

For Aman, word of mouth among ultra-high-net-worth individuals is the only marketing that matters, as the brand does not advertise in any traditional sense. Discretion about its guests is itself the luxury signal and it shows: the Aman Club membership program reports a 92% renewal rate.

Soho House’s strategy is the opposite: become the dominant player in private clubs, expand fast, and raise prices.

In 2021, after receiving widespread attention and pushed by an all-time high demand, Soho House listed on the New York Stock Exchange, with a historic $470 million IPO. The problem?

The moment Soho House accepted Wall Street's logic, it accepted Wall Street's demands. Growth was sped up to reward investors: within three years, the brand expanded to 46 locations, 220,000 members. Management announced plans to open 8 to 10 new houses per year, targeting 85 locations by 2027.

The logic is simple: more houses mean more members, more members mean more revenue, more revenue means a share price that justified the valuation.

But one thing was lost in the race for higher profit: the feeling of exclusivity.

Suddenly, the perception shifted from “I’m lucky to be here” to “Why is everyone here?”

By 2023, members in London, New York, and Los Angeles were reporting long waits, overcrowded spaces, and declining service. As a response, Soho restricted new memberships in all three cities. Meanwhile, the company continued its aggressive expansion in less wealthy cities like São Paulo and Mexico City, further contributing to brand dilution.

As a result, the stock, listed at $14, was eventually bought out at $9. The company is now returning to private ownership, highlighting the diverging interests between luxury and financial needs.

The difference between Aman and Soho House is not one of vision, as exclusivity can be built both in the form of privacy and connections. Instead, it concerns the practical issue of capital management and scarcity.

Aman stayed private from the beginning and thus was able to grow at their own pace, leveraging scarcity and price. And that is how it nailed it.

Soho House accepted outside capital and the pressure to scale that came with it. And that is how it failed it.

For any other industry, fast growth and financing would be certainly positive, but for luxury they could prove fatal. Exclusivity is not just a design or branding choice. It is an operational commitment that requires saying no to anything (including growth) that would dilute the products, betting on long-term prosperity instead of short-term rewards.

Aman succeeded by saying no for forty years, Soho folded because of a single yes.

LANGOSTERIA vs NOMA

In the luxury sector, success is not just about being the best, but also about being able to maintain that position over time. This is particularly true in the restaurant industry, where maintaining ambitious standards over the long term can be more challenging than achieving them just once. The comparison between Noma and Langosteria clearly demonstrates this, as both operate at the top of the market, but follow quite different paths: one based on extreme creativity, the other on consistency.

One nailed it and one failed it. Let’s break down why.

Langosteria was founded in Milan in 2007 by Italian entrepreneur Enrico Buonocore. After years of experience in the industry and travelling, Buonocore opened the first location in Via Savona, Milan.

Starting as a seafood restaurant, it quickly positioned itself as a reference for luxury fine dining with an Italian identity. Over time, it expanded into a group with multiple formats (Langosteria Bistrot, Café, Cucina) and international locations such as Paris, Paraggi and St. Moritz, while maintaining a consistent brand image.

It is an elegant brand, but without being too formal or rigid. The focus is always on the quality of the food, of the space, and of the overall atmosphere, but also on making people feel comfortable. What really stands out is the consistency: regardless of the location, customers experience the same level of quality in both food and service.

At the same time, it is clearly positioned at the top end, with selective locations and a clientele that comes back regularly. Its idea of luxury is less about rarity and more about creating a place people genuinely want to return to.

One of the key choices was to build a concept that is both recognizable and repeatable, thanks to high-quality seafood, a strong Italian identity, and a specific atmosphere and decor. At the same time, expansion has been very selective, focusing only on high-end locations such as Paris, Porto Cervo, St. Moritz, Paraggi and potentially New York, often in collaboration with major real estate partners.

On the other hand, Noma represents a very different approach to luxury, one that prioritises innovation and constant experimentation, but without a truly sustainable or stable model behind it.

Founded in Copenhagen in 2004 by chef René Redzepi, Noma quickly became one of the most influential high-end restaurants in the world. The name comes from ‘nordisk mad,’ meaning ‘Nordic food,’ which reflects its focus on redefining local cuisine through seasonal and foraged ingredients.

Originally located in an old warehouse by the canals, Noma quickly gained global recognition. In 2010, it was named the best restaurant in the world by The World’s 50 Best Restaurants and it was also awarded three Michelin stars.

Noma embodies a very radical concept of luxury, which translates into an extremely exclusive culinary experience, as reservations are always very limited, and is deeply rooted in radical experimentation. Its reputation as one of the best restaurants in the world makes a dinner much more than just a meal.

However, despite its incredible prestige, Noma has revealed serious weaknesses in its business management. One of the key issues was the work culture: many former employees have described a toxic environment characterized by extreme pressure and, in some cases, verbal and physical abuse. This not only compromised the internal sustainability of the model but also began to affect the brand’s reputation due to negative media coverage and even the withdrawal of major sponsors.

Furthermore, the restaurant’s identity was closely tied to René Redzepi, and when his leadership was called into question, it had a direct impact on the brand. His resignation highlighted this fragility.

Noma did not ‘fail’ because people stopped wanting it (on the contrary, demand remained extremely high), but because the way it had been built made it vulnerable.

Langosteria proved that luxury can be repeatable. Noma proved that brilliance, without structure, is destined to collapse.

CONCORDE vs EMIRATES

In luxury, speed and scale often seem like natural advantages. But in reality, the brands that last are not always the fastest or the biggest, but the ones that understand what customers are truly paying for.

The comparison between Concorde and Emirates perfectly illustrates this difference. Both transformed air travel into a status symbol, but while one became an unsustainable icon trapped by its own exclusivity, the other built a scalable luxury empire without losing its appeal.

One nailed it and one failed it. Let’s break down why.

Concorde was introduced in 1976 as a joint project between the British and French governments. Built by the British Aircraft Corporation and Aérospatiale, it was the world’s first supersonic commercial aircraft, capable of flying at more than twice the speed of sound. The promise was that passengers could fly from London to New York in under three and a half hours, cutting travel times almost in half.

From the very beginning, Concorde positioned itself as the ultimate luxury experience. The passenger list regularly included celebrities, CEOs, politicians and royalty. Flying Concorde was not simply transportation, but a statement of wealth and status. Tickets often cost more than $10,000 round trip, and scarcity itself became part of the appeal.

The problem was that Concorde’s exclusivity was built almost entirely around one factor: speed. The aircraft carried fewer than 100 passengers, consumed enormous amounts of fuel, required extremely expensive maintenance, and could operate only on limited routes because sonic booms were banned over most populated areas.
At the same time, the onboard experience itself was surprisingly underwhelming compared to traditional luxury standards. The cabins were narrow, seats relatively small, and comfort levels far below what wealthy travellers increasingly expected from premium air travel.

For years, the prestige of flying faster than everyone else compensated for these weaknesses. But over time, the economics became impossible to justify. After the Air France crash in 2000, public perception around safety declined significantly. Rising fuel costs and falling demand after 9/11 further accelerated the crisis. In 2003, Concorde was permanently retired. Concorde did not fail because people stopped admiring it. It failed because the business model behind the admiration was too fragile to survive long term.

Now consider Emirates, founded in Dubai in 1985 with just two aircraft.

Instead of focusing on extreme exclusivity, Emirates pursued a completely different strategy: make luxury scalable.

Rather than limiting itself to a tiny elite, Emirates created a premium experience that could serve millions of passengers while still feeling aspirational. The airline invested heavily in comfort, design, and service across all touchpoints: private suites in First Class, onboard showers, chauffeur services, airport lounges, premium entertainment systems, and a cabin experience designed to feel consistently luxurious regardless of the route.

At the same time, Emirates scaled aggressively, building one of the world’s largest long-haul networks through Dubai.

Unlike Concorde, its model was operationally sustainable: large aircraft such as the Airbus A380 maximized passenger volume, while Dubai’s geographic position allowed Emirates to connect Europe, Asia, and Africa efficiently through a single hub. Most importantly, Emirates understood that modern luxury travellers value comfort, reliability, and experience more than pure exclusivity. The brand became aspirational not because it was inaccessible, but because it consistently delivered a high-end experience at scale.

Today, Emirates serves more than 50 million passengers per year while maintaining one of the strongest luxury reputations in aviation. The difference between Concorde and Emirates is not ambition. Both wanted to redefine premium air travel.
The difference lies in sustainability and value creation. Concorde built a luxury product around technological spectacle, but the economics behind it never worked. Its exclusivity depended on remaining rare, expensive, and inefficient.
Emirates built luxury around operational excellence and customer experience, creating a model that could expand without losing its positioning.

Concorde became an icon frozen in time. Emirates became a global luxury business.

In luxury, exclusivity alone is never enough. If the experience cannot evolve sustainably, prestige eventually turns into nostalgia. Concorde proved that being extraordinary is not sufficient. Emirates proved that luxury becomes truly powerful when it can scale without losing desirability.

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