Last decade, if one were to play a game of word association with luxury brands like Prada, Hermès, and Louis Vuitton, the immediate answer would be New York Fashion Week, the cover of Vogue, and Met Gala gowns.

Though for the most part that remains the same, the past couple years introduced chic cafés, logo-stenciled lattes, and pristinely glazed pastries to the periphery of these high-end fashion labels.

The fusion between food and fashion isn’t really something novel; Jacquemus’s campaigns are famously led by culinary elements, be it the famous butter blocks or recent banana fever. Maybe you’re more familiar with Loewe’s milk-drenched promo or Chanel’s not-so-subtle attempt of blending in with eggs. And people resonate with it—eat it up, one would say.

Premium brands like Skims are also riding this crossover wave. The beauty industry, through the likes of Rhode and Milk Makeup, also bolster the sustained popularity of sensory marketing, a tactic where campaigns engage with all five of the human senses. Because what better way to do that than with the very thing we need to sustain life?

The visual language of today’s pop culture became a buffet—from microtrends like Likira Matoshi’s strawberry dress to “aesthetics” such as Tomato Girl and Vanilla Girl. Even Pantone’s Color of the Year palette includes hues called “Mocha Mousse” and “Chocolate Martini.” Social media also becomes overwhelmingly hungry for the newest neighborhood coffee shop and grocery hauls; not from just any store though, it has to be the lavish Angeleno Erewhon.

As Gen-Zers’ social media behaviors shift to sensory-based experiences, trends are shaping up to be a whole aesthetic that encompasses the entirety of an individual’s lifestyle: the places they go, the sports they do, the items they wear, the things they eat and drink.

Nothing synthesizes the essence of this cultural world-building like the aesthetics and Pinterest-fueled “cores” that give way for these food-related personas to cement its place in popular culture, and brands—including luxury ones—are quick to capitalize on this trend.

However, as the world descends into fascistic chaos amidst armed and trade wars, global hunger makes food something few and far in between—Gaza, Ukraine, and many African and Asian countries are facing “catastrophic” levels of famine. Meanwhile, Khloé Kardashian used boxes upon boxes of Dolly Parton cake mix as a base for an even bigger 40th birthday cake; Rachel Antonoff decked out a Brooklyn restaurant in food sculptures for her 15th anniversary; and Grammys attendees left charcuterie boards at the event untouched.

It harkens back to a time in the 16th century when pineapples were first brought over to Europe. Now coming in cans, on upside down cakes, and on pizzas (for some), the tropical fruit used to be a status symbol for aristocrats, so much so it functioned as a dinner table centerpiece that could even be rented—akin to a trophy for winning in colonialism.

Yet, amidst all these food crises, twenty-dollar Erewhon smoothies still dominate Instagram feeds, while steady foot traffic keeps all the newest Korean dessert parlors and specialty cafés afloat, propelled by the brewing little treats culture among Gen Zs that coincide with a post-pandemic boom of work-from-café enthusiasts. In this economy, they may not be able to own houses, so what’s the point in saving for one? Why not just indulge in a little overpriced drink Sabrina Carpenter endorsed or trade your desk setup for a chic coffee shop with artisanal lattes?

It’s the lipstick index—another recession indicator—just in a different flavor (literally).

That’s the exact mentality these luxury brands are capitalizing on. It started following the 2008 recession, when their attempt in enticing fashionistas relied on partnering with commercial clothing brands like H&M, Target, and Uniqlo. But as this shift to food culture marks an emulsification of different facets of lifestyle, fashion has transcended the aesthetic craze. It’s now a mood, a vibe, an immersive and all-encompassing ethos that feels personally tailored and authentic.

These fashion brands’ expansion into café proprietors are more than just another marketing campaign. It’s another way to democratize the luxury they’re selling, because a $90 cup of cappuccino? Not quite the handbag, but worth the Prada vibe. If nothing else, EHL Hospitality Business School assistant professor Guy Llewellyn said,

“If a customer leaves the store to think about a potential purchase, it is less likely that they will come back, but if they consider it over lunch or coffee within the store, there is a higher probability of purchase.”

It’s not even just an Upper East Side or Paris thing. Jakarta is home to the only Coach Restaurant in the world, and was recently a pit stop for Laura Mercier’s Le Mercier Daily Café traveling pop-up. Sure, these lavish patisseries are more representations of the bleak outlook on the future of our global economy. And it’s one of the many ways pop culture regurgitates a capitalist ploy that feeds into a consumerist mentality.

Which begs the question: Are we born with consumerism, or do we have consumerism thrust upon us?