Our towels are disintegrating. They’re fading, fraying at the edges, and leaving remnants on my body in curious places. Perverts. They’re treating me like their personal exfoliant, and after every shower, I’m left picking bits off my skin. They’ve needed replacement for some time, but shopping for them is an unsatisfying time-sucking tactile task that necessitates an in-store visit, and my decades of towel-touching experience haven’t helped me crack the code: they’re either too thin, or too thick, or they pill, or push water around my body instead of absorbing it, and every time we get a new set, our entire bathroom is covered in lint — and so are we. Frustratingly, their efficacy can only be assessed after they’re used and washed when returning them is no longer an option.

What does this have to do with the Dune flip-flops? I’m getting there.

This internal towel chatter led me straight to The Row (in my head, that’s where all roads go), and specifically to the towels cheekily draped around models' necks for Summer 2024. I wondered if they could have been THE ONES. When I saw them at the resee, I wasn’t sure anyone would buy them because, although they were thick and soft, beautifully patterned, and vibrant in colour, I didn’t think they’d pass the price test. I was wrong. They were in high demand, and I received messages from followers saying they travelled a distance to get to a boutique to purchase one. It mattered NOT whether they were even functional (they’re primarily decorative) because The Row made them, so people wanted them.

Is there anything they couldn’t sell us?

My husband is convinced the answer is no. When he reached for my dry eye drops the other day, I gently reminded him to use them sparingly because they’re expensive, and he replied, “Did The Row make them?”

When I purchased Dune, in a fleeting moment of clarity, I considered it might be madness. And in the next moment (of stupidity), I asked him if he thought it was crazy to spend USD 690 (a bazillion CAD) on them. He said, “You know they’re making fools of all of you, right?”.

I stopped speaking to him for a few hours.

Also, he was wrong. A fool is someone who acts unwisely — meaning: without wisdom. How could I be a fool if I'm aware of the manipulation?

I know that a lot has already been written about Dune, but instead of abandoning this post—which I’d started before others published theirs—I consulted my Substack chat group, and they kindly contributed to this discussion. I asked them to share their thoughts on the Dune debate and whether they would be willing to overspend on a luxury item, specifically a Row item, and if so, why.

Here are some of the responses:

⁃ If I can’t find a reasonable dupe, I pay up

⁃ I don’t question it; if I love something, I buy it

⁃ If it costs too much, I wait for it to show up on The Real Real

⁃ I think, on some level, I want recognition for having a Row piece

⁃ I was influenced; I tried to hold back

⁃ I want the original, not a dupe

⁃ If the design is unique (colour, fabrication, fit) and the piece is timeless, I’m willing to invest

⁃ I like the “private” spend, no broadcasting with loud logos

⁃ Our socio-economic backgrounds inform our spending thresholds; this isn’t expensive for some.

⁃ The Row is getting too costly; flip-flops for that much?!

⁃ I think it’s meeting a psychological need; maybe it’s an addiction

⁃ I won’t overspend on trendy pieces (like the Mara jellies)

Comments consistently highlighted The Row’s unique curation, colour palette, fabric choices, and tailoring, which are unmatched: once you invest in The Row, it’s hard to go back. And although the question was about why someone might overspend on an item (not why they choose to buy from The Row), the responses were telling. Regardless of whether items are overpriced, many are willing to back the brand.

I asked my friend Rachel (

Whenever I’m asked about The Row, I have a full-body reaction. I vehemently defend the spend to myself and anyone else brave enough to take me on. I tout their commitment to using the highest-quality fabrics, meticulous attention to detail, incomparable personal style and aesthetic eye, and unwavering commitment to improvement (PSA over). However, I’m not blind. Sometimes, items are patently overpriced, but that doesn’t mean I won’t buy them.

I’ve made several purchases that any reasonably intelligent person might find unreasonable. This behaviour is entirely contradictory to my upbringing in a middle-class household and my professional training as a Chartered Accountant, which is grounded in the principles of balance and conservatism.

Then, why do I overspend?

Is it emotional? Partly.

Is it influence? Sometimes.

Is it brand loyalty? Definitely.

The Row has quietly and consistently honed their craft for years; they design with a spirited edge and have a keen sense of what we want before we know we want it. As Rachel alluded to, in Mary-Kate and Ashley, we trust. Sometimes, we “allow” them to take advantage.

DUNE

FIRST IMPRESSION: Love! I wanted them the second I saw them. That brilliant red sole will work hard in my wardrobe and look great against my skin, and the contrast grosgrain straps make them special.

FAST FORWARD: Still love, but let’s call a spade a spade… $690 for flip-flops is egregious. Even so, I’m keeping them. It’s unlikely anyone outside Row-land will recognize them, I haven’t found anything else I like as much, and when I stare down, I smile wide. They make me very happy! However, I don’t find them comfortable. The fabric between the toes rubs a bit, and the bumps on the sole feel like pumice stones as I walk. Am I foolish for keeping them? Perhaps, but I’m a fool who might double down and buy these too.

NESSON in RED/BLUE

FIRST IMPRESSION: When I reviewed The Row Spring 2025 on YouTube, I mentioned how much I liked it. However, I cautioned that the bold print may shorten the shirt’s shelf life.

FAST FORWARD: The folks in my Substack chat wear The Row very well, and as selfies trickled in, I had a visceral response every time Nesson came up (influence works both ways). You know how this story ends: the colour is beautiful, I love the airy fabric, and it’s not too oversized. I may tire of it sooner than my muted shirts, and it’ll show up on TRR someday, but I’m keeping mine because I don’t want to wait.

JOLENE

FIRST IMPRESSIONS: My immediate thought was J. Crew (or old Abercrombie), and I think I said this in my review. It seemed like a simple chore jacket that could easily be duplicated.

FAST FORWARD: Then came the Substack selfies, and they were good. The colour is so lovely. However, Zara released a similar style in a nearly identical colour, and it was quite soft. Based on the initial feedback from those who own Jolene, the fabric is stiff - that’s a no-go for me. Both versions are selling well; no site can keep Jolene in stock in smaller sizes for longer than a few hours.

CASHMERE BED LINENS

FIRST IMPRESSIONS: The epitome of luxury, but no.

FAST FORWARD: The epitome of luxury, but NO! Makeup, residue from cream, cereal bits from weekend bed-rotting, sweat from overheating, dry clean only, and price upon request… I don’t think so. I’m satisfied staring at this picture; maybe I’ll pin it to my wall.

There are plenty of other controversial pieces (Mara jellies, mesh Sock shoes, canvas bags, etc.) that call my culling abilities into question and make me wonder whether I can continue to consider myself a discerning client (though I’m pretty sure an argument could be made that I might be in a cult).

The rising demand (and waitlists) for inflated basics magnify the wealth gap and the desire for exclusivity, and while a higher price tag is typically indicative of a superior product, that’s not always the case. It’s more that we’ve become desensitized to the increases and have crossed into a new spending threshold that might not be sustainable for some. We’re price-neutral frogs in boiling water, and with a potential recession lurking around the corner, it might be wise to put some of the silly stuff on the back burner for a bit so we have time to jump out.

Maybe superfluous spending shouldn’t be subjected to this level of dissection because they’re not meant to be taken seriously. Still, I think it’s important to acknowledge that by participating, we’re complicit in the game and contributing to inaccessibility by fueling demand and pushing the entry point up. So while I’m staring at my cute shoes and sipping my Kool-Aid, I’ll periodically sniff my drink to make sure it’s just sweet and not spiked; I need to be alert and lucid at these prices.

N xo

P.S. I’d love to hear what you’ve purchased recently that has made you question your sanity.