The Kennedys and the luxury of not having to prove anything

Those of us who are a bit older will remember one of the iconic couples of the nineties: Carolyn Bessette and John F. Kennedy Jr. A relationship that is being revisited these days, with a marked hyperglycemia, by the Disney+ series Love StoryShe worked at Calvin Klein, the brand that best embodied the minimalist spirit of the late 20th century, in tune with the moderation and introspection imposed by the economic crisis of the time. He was the heir to one of the most powerful surnames in American politics, with an almost mythical allure that opened doors for him, but also forced him to constantly prove his worth.

Young, privileged, and conventionally beautiful, they became the "it" couple, true trendsetters. And yet, their style was anything but spectacular in the conventional sense. He might appear in an impeccable suit paired with sneakers and a backwards hat; she, in garments of almost ascetic simplicity. How could this apparent ordinariness end up defining the taste of an era?

In fact, this was their great contribution: turning ease into a code of elegance. We were coming from the baroque excess of the eighties—saturated colors, Versailles-style jewelry, explicit sexualization, excessive volume—fully in tune with neoliberal hyperconsumption. They, on the other hand, with an intellectual restraint, set a style through the serenity with which they walked the streets in sportswear combined with a coat on their way to the gym, at a time when sport had not yet colonized everyday clothing. They anticipated, without realizing it, what we now call athleisure: the displacement of sportswear to spaces not intended for this practice.

It was precisely this apparent lack of aesthetic effort that ultimately established a new regime for representing privilege. It's striking when someone flaunts their purchasing power through luxurious clothing; but even more telling is when someone seems to have put no effort into their appearance, because their mere presence already connotes status. The most entrenched privilege doesn't need to be demonstrated: it's simply assumed.

Taste is not natural.

The idea, in reality, was not new. Its origins date back to the 19th century, with the consolidation of the bourgeoisie as the dominant class. If, in theory, anyone could access consumer goods as long as they had capital, how were old fortunes distinguished from newly acquired ones? Precisely through the naturalization of taste. Elegance that required no effort—because it was innate and not acquired—became the most refined form of distinction. As Pierre Bourdieu stated in The distinctionTaste is not innate, but a form of cultural capital. And the most powerful kind is that which seems effortless.

One of the defining moments of Bessette's style was her wedding dress: utterly understated, devoid of ornamentation, a simple yet elegant silk slip dress reminiscent of lingerie. The contrast with previous brides like Lady Di or Sarah Ferguson—engulfed in monumental gowns more akin to meringue than a garment—could not have been more striking. Bessette needed no embellishment to validate her style.

The Bessette-Kennedy couple evokes an emotional tension that oscillates between admiration and irritation. This irritation stems not from ostentation, but from the fact that, while we are constantly told we live in a society that rewards effort and merit, those at the top seem to have arrived without any visible effort, making privilege a state of nature. Therefore, when quiet luxury is championed today, we are not witnessing an aesthetic revolution, but rather the revival of an old class ploy: transforming privilege into taste and power into apparent normality. It is not discretion: it is a way of defusing criticism.