Dior in an IKEA Bag: Lithuania’s Complicated Love Affair with Luxury

I came back to Lithuania and felt like I had walked into a showroom. Bentleys idling by Soviet-era apartment blocks, Porsches wedged into Old Town alleys barely wide enough for a bicycle, designer bags brighter than the faces carrying them. In New York, luxury felt earned — the mantra was work hard, play hard, treat yourself. In Singapore, luxury was everywhere, almost banal, one of the infamous “Five Cs” (car, condo, credit card, cash, country club) that everyone was expected to chase. But in Vilnius, luxury felt… louder. More desperate. Like everyone wanted to look richer than they really were, shinier than their neighbors, taller in heels than the cobblestones could handle.

I don’t say this with disdain — I say it with curiosity, and a little sass. Why do so many Lithuanians flex so hard? Why are there so many Lamborghinis and Porsches in a country where the average person still rents a shared apartment room for €300? And what does it say about us — about our history, our psychology, our economy?

From Scarcity to Shine

To understand Lithuania’s love affair with luxury, you have to remember where we started. For fifty years under Soviet rule, scarcity was the only currency. People stood in lines for bread, smuggled jeans, cherished imported chocolate like contraband. Showing off wasn’t just frowned upon; it was impossible.

Then independence came. The borders cracked open, the markets flooded, and suddenly people could buy things their parents never dreamed of. Owning a Mercedes in the 1990s wasn’t just a purchase — it was proof that you survived the rubble and came out on top. To this day, that hunger for visible success lingers.

And to be fair, Lithuania has every reason to celebrate. In just three decades, we went from a wrecked, occupied economy to one of the fastest-growing in Europe. GDP per capita now rivals parts of Western Europe. By IMF standards, Lithuania is officially a high-income country, with a GDP (PPP) per capita hovering around $56,000. That’s a miracle, and the miracle has four wheels and tinted windows.

The Psychology of Luxury Flex

Materialism isn’t unique to Lithuania, of course. Psychologists define it as a value system where wealth, possessions, and image equal success. But the flavor of Lithuanian materialism has its own roots.

First, there’s relative income — how rich you feel compared to those around you. Research from Kaunas University shows that Lithuanians with lower or average income often aspire more strongly to luxury goods, especially if their peers seem to have them. Your neighbor’s Porsche isn’t just a car; it’s a mirror reflecting your own supposed inadequacy.

Second, there’s emotional compensation. Studies in Lithuania have linked materialism with compulsive buying, especially when emotional intelligence is low. Translation: when you don’t know how to regulate anxiety, sadness, or insecurity, you buy something shiny. A designer bag is cheaper than therapy (well, depending on the bag).

Finally, there’s social media gasoline. Instagram, TikTok, and now Threads broadcast every logo, every car badge, every outfit. It’s not enough to own; you have to be seen owning. Lithuania, like much of Eastern Europe, is still young in its capitalism, and showing your prosperity is still considered proof you “made it.”

The Lithuanian Flex in Real Life

You see it everywhere.

• €300 for a shared room, but €1,200/month on a car lease.

• Empty designer boutiques in Old Town, but Instagram feeds overflowing with their shopping bags.

• A wedding in a borrowed castle where the champagne flows like a European subsidy.

The numbers back it up: in 2022 alone, Lithuanians purchased over 1,200 cars priced above €50,000, sparking debates about a potential luxury tax. (LRT)

It’s not just cars. Walk into Vilnius on a Friday night and you’ll see Balenciaga sneakers pacing over cracked Soviet sidewalks, Dior handbags dangling in front of graffiti-tagged churches, champagne bottles sparklers in nightclubs filled with borrowed bravado.

It’s contradiction as culture, and it’s fascinating.

Pride in the Progress

Here’s the thing: I don’t want to mock it. Lithuania deserves its flex. We crawled out of the Soviet ruins and built something dazzling. We entered the EU, the Eurozone, NATO. We export tech talent, laser optics, fintech innovation. Our economy is strong, our middle class is growing, and the fact that we even can argue about too many Porsches is proof of progress.

Luxury here isn’t just vanity; it’s history. For a generation that grew up in scarcity, owning a Porsche is like thumbing your nose at Moscow. It’s proof that you are free, prosperous, untouchable.

And yet —

When Flex Turns Hollow

Here’s the danger: when showing off becomes more important than living well. When debt piles up just to look rich. When you care more about your neighbor’s opinion than your own mental health. When a €1,500 bag carries a €3 mood inside it.

I see it, and I feel it. Maybe it’s because I live differently now. Most of my own “luxury” sits in closets. I find more joy in Humana’s €1 racks than in a boutique. Dior in an IKEA bag isn’t shame — it’s satire. A way of saying: I can carry both worlds, but I don’t need to prove either.

And honestly? Real wealth is peace. Peace of mind. Having friends who fly across oceans for your birthday. A grandmother who still peels apples for you. A dog asleep in your lap at a café. These are riches no Porsche can buy.

The Shift Toward Consciousness

It’s not all flex and fumes. Lithuania also has a growing conscious consumer movement:

• Second-hand shopping is booming (Humana’s €1 sale days are a blood sport).

• Sustainable fashion brands are popping up in Vilnius.

• Younger Lithuanians are turning toward minimalism, eco-goods, and local products over global logos.

This is where the real shift lies: a society maturing from “look rich” to “live well.” And it’s happening faster than we think.

Conclusion: A Country Between Porsche and Potatoes

Lithuania is a country of contradictions. We buy Bentleys, then complain about grocery prices. We wear Gucci sneakers, then slip on black ice. We rent tiny flats, then lease SUVs wider than our streets. It’s absurd, and it’s also endearing.

Because behind the flex, there’s pride. Pride in how far we’ve come. Pride in surviving a history that tried to strip us of joy. Pride in finally having something to show off, even if it’s a little over the top.

So yes — Lithuania has a materialism problem. But it also has an optimism problem, in the best sense. We want to be seen not just as survivors, but as thrivers.

The trick now is to move past the Porsche stage of success into something deeper. To realize that peace, humor, and kindness are the ultimate flex.

Until then, I’ll keep putting Dior in IKEA bags. Because honestly? It works.

Original Instagram Video