Caring about rarity is an evolutionary quirk
I don't really care about material rarity so don't collect pricey things or buy expensive watches, but you might - if only because you evolved to
“The invariable mark of wisdom is to see the miraculous in the common.”
—Ralph Waldo Emerson
There’s a strange contradiction in an era where abundance is the norm in the West, many people’s deepest desires remain attached to the rare and the scarce. Evolution programmed us to seek out rarity because material scarcity once meant survival, value, and status. But in a world overflowing with food, goods, and information, many still find themselves chasing after the rarest things. Maybe people just constantly need a MacGuffin in their life? It honestly feels like a sign of unrest.
To these people, rarity acts like an existential spice or perhaps even a drug. They require it to make normal things alluring simply by virtue of being (perceived or actually) rare. “I have something most others do not.” I have to be honest, to me it’s always felt like a way boring people seek to stand out, by their possessions as opposed to their abilities. They have to be overcompensating for lack of discipline to master a craft or even simply poor ability to develop relationships. Happy people don’t spend much time sitting around thinking about their stuff, they’re out building relationships, companies and art. Anyway, is it really all that impressive to be able to have collected a bunch of rare objects? It’s great if it brings them joy, I’m sure people get this from their thimble collections or whatnot. I still don’t really care. Maybe my values are just different.
The luxury market is a place we see this phenomenon productized. People spend fortunes on designer handbags produced in limited runs, bags that function no better at holding items than a regular purse from TJ Max. Or collectibles like Magic cards, sneakers, “rare” digital items that hold no intrinsic utility beyond the cultural meaning people have imbued them with, with frequently fake/illiquid prices. Rarity drives demand for the NPCs, but the value is mostly symbolic. I’ve written before that there are better forms of status for those with higher-order value systems, and I’ve found living this way far more satisfying. I think if you actually do like the fancy bag itself, you have the rare cards because you enjoy the game, or want to support the person making limited runs of art, that’s cool. Now we’ve extended beyond mere speculation to something deeper. At least this part makes sense to me.
Still, the instinct to want rare things is indeed ancient. In the wild, rarity meant advantage: a rare tree no one else knew about could provide fruit you were the sole provider of, a rare mating display could signal superior genetics (birds still do this), a rare possession could secure influence. But evolution moves slowly while culture moves quickly. Now, scarcity is often manufactured with limited editions, artificial time limits, contrived exclusivity. Our raw evolutionary wiring, which many are a slave to, still reacts as though these things are precious, even when if you sit and think about them long enough, you see they really aren’t.
Not all rarity is hollow, of course. True rarity matters when it signals authentic uniqueness, irreplaceable craftsmanship, or ecological scarcity, things that can’t be mass-produced without losing their essence. A masterwork of art carries aesthetic, historical, and cultural weight. Heirloom seeds preserve genetic diversity vital for agriculture. There’s only so much high quality real estate in a good neighborhood. Endangered species remind us of the fragility of ecosystems we depend on. Here, scarcity is not a marketing trick but something with real meaning behind it.
The trouble is status-seeking adapts, sometimes in even dumber ways. In some circles, material luxury goods have been replaced by what author Rob Henderson terms “luxury beliefs,” ideas and values costly to the believer only in signaling terms, but often harmful to others when applied in practice. They function much like a rare handbag: scarce in acceptance, valuable as group markers by midwits, and pursued for the perceived prestige they confer. Yet unlike the bag, which at worst drains a bank account, luxury beliefs can distort policy, culture, and the lives of those without the privilege to escape their consequences. As I was writing this piece I was talking to a friend, and we both agreed maybe it’s better if these types do buy the fancy brands instead, as that’s not really harming anyone.
Our craving for rarity, whether for a handbag, a belief, or a bottle of rare wine, does reveal something about us. Meaning for many is now simply manufactured, not found. Value for the masses is as much socially and psychologically engineered as it is material. For the strange among us who have re-discovered the transcendental, the best rarity is the kind found within: the stories you tell, unique creativity abilities, the spiritual essence you reveal only to close friends. These are not manufactured or postured into existence. They are, by their nature, rare.
Great article and topic. Thank you. It's weird because I have collected books, CDs, tapes and vinyl for a long time. But events like Record Store Day, while great for the music business and record store owners, kind of don't do it for me. It is nice to have some limited editions or signed books and vinyl releases... but the way it has all got marketed as a thing to do is strange. I'm kind of leaning more towards some ideas Henry Rollins has shared about good music and books these days. Why make them so rare? If it is really good music and really good writing, I want other people to know about it, not hoard it to myself. Of course, there was a financial consideration for independent publishers and record labels. It costs a lot of money to print a book or press vinyl, so making a limited run and selling it out could help recoup the costs. Some fine publishers who make really beautiful books, and some labels to, will also make the special editions for the collectors, and have a cheaper standard edition for the rest of us. I think that is a good model, because there is something nice about holding something beautifully made, and those crafted objects will be rarer. So I guess I am of two minds. On the one hand, have the artful editions for those who want them, but instead of making just those. These are the masterworks you mentioned, even if they exist in more numbers than a singular piece of art or something crafted. But for things where there can be multiples, always have a standard for those who want physical books & music and let it spread to those who would enjoy it.
Collecting stuff is an instant dopamine hit. I look at them as dust collectors.
The majority of it is not worth as much as we think. Just look at silent gen / boomer china dish collections. No one wants that crap while the people who have kept it in mint condition to give to their kids think its worth thousands of dollars. It will be the first thing in the donation pile when they pass.