In one of the recent editions of his newsletter, Ramit Sethi recounted an anecdote about upscale Manhattan parties. As is customary, the guests bring a small gift of some kind. Ramit remarked that often one of the guests will bring a box of gourmet French pastries. They’re beautifully presented and of course exceptionally delicious. The remarkable thing, however, is that no one eats them. Everyone at these events, as might be expected, is on some kind of diet that holds them back from touching these pastries. As a result, while universally ogled at and admired, the pastries just sit there throughout the evening, after which they’re simply discarded. In reflecting on this story, Ramit noted that some people are perplexed, or even outraged, that these pastries should be neglected and shunned like this, thinking that they’re effectively wasted. This, however, he goes on, is the wrong reaction. The pastries aren’t at all wasted since they’re beautiful decorations that provide plenty of entertainment and pleasure to the guests, despite the fact that they’re not eaten. Though thrown out at the end, they serve a valuable purpose. The misplaced reaction of some guests is grounded in a purely utilitarian outlook and stems from the failure to realize that, to use Ramit’s words, “there are higher values than utility“.

This principle is of broad significance and helps justify or understand some consumer decisions. There are many instances in which a given product either doesn’t serve a utilitarian purpose or at least doesn’t serve it any better than a cheaper alternative. Despite this, these products aren’t necessarily wasteful or excessive because their value can transcend utility and extend into sentimental dimensions. The user might appreciate them not for their practical efficacy but for the feeling that their use evokes, whether it be connection with a particular community, the expression of an important internal value, or simply pleasure. This might be, strictly speaking, irrational, as when you feel connected to a particular athlete because you play with the same equipment, but that doesn’t matter.

For example, I’ve always been skeptical of Apple products; indeed I’ve been puzzled by the success of the company. Its products are not only significantly more expensive but also in some ways lower performing than functionally equivalent PC products. Last year, however, I decided to get an iPad, figuring that it represented a relatively cheap way of seeing from personal experience what the hype was about. Although I concede that the product is convenient, reliable, and easy to use, I’m firmly convinced it’s not any of these pragmatic qualities that account for the loyalty and support that Apple inspires among its customers. The secret, I think, lies in the intangible, and in particular the feeling of using a product that’s beautiful, well-made, and stylish. And what Ramit’s anecdote made me realize was that these are perfectly legitimate reasons to make a consumer choice.

There’s a difference between these emotional benefits and the social status that a product may embody. In both cases, you’re taking an abstracted perspective and considering the symbolic value of the material thing. In the latter case, however, you’re concentrating on what the product means to others, whereas the emotional benefits are determined by what the product means to you. Being guided by others’ preferences is a trap to avoid, but finding out and acknowledging what your values are and how to live them out is crucial to well-being. Acknowledging the importance of the non-utilitarian is therefore key to making satisfying decisions.