✨ Taste Hates Money

Collecting has never been about having the most resources; it has always been about the stories you choose to tell with them…

Last weekend, Sotheby’s hosted their Open House bringing the worlds or art, sports, and historical collectibles together in a weekend of panels and auction previews - all on display at their York Avenue headquarters here in NYC.

Along with showcasing some of the most important works of the 20th century, it brought to light a persistent myth: that having wealth automatically means you have taste.

It’s the idea that the more money you have, the more refined your eye becomes, and the more discerning your acquisitions must be. But anyone who has walked through a billionaire’s gallery of “trophies” knows this isn’t necessarily true.

Money can buy access, but it doesn’t buy discernment.

We’re deep into dinosaurs here at Rally right now as our newest IPO, a 100 ft Barosaurus skeleton, is launching soon, and this concept resonates as clearly in the world of paleontology as any collectible category. Some of the most expensive dinosaur skeletons ever sold, even those with the highest possible original bone counts, are objectively “incomplete” - yet they command staggering premiums because of what they represent. The trophy. The “I got this, and you don’t.”

The worlds of money and taste are beginning to converge, however, as those trophies become more rare and more sought after by the people with the most money and the most access. This week, in the 203rd edition of The Shiny Thing$ newsletter, we take a quick look at how it all happened, and what comes next.

And it all goes back to the point of all of it: Collecting has never been about having the most resources; it has always been about the stories you choose to tell with them…

…which money can’t buy.

Costumes of Cool

Think back to the mid-2010s, when venture capitalists and startup founders tried to blend in at conferences by dressing the part: Jordans on their feet, hoodies in their carry-ons, quoting Steve Jobs in keynote slides. Sneakers weren’t about passion; they were about signaling. The Jordans weren’t worn because they loved basketball or remembered a specific moment in the 1991 Finals; they were worn because they were a shortcut to credibility.

Taste, though, doesn’t live in shortcuts though. The people who really cared could spot the difference between someone who was wearing what the liked, and a pair of sneakers bought at Stadium Goods to match the uniform. That’s the “costume.”

No hate on anyone who’s wearing what they like, but in the construct of collectibility and credibility, this was the first red flag that Nike may be sliding as a brand. The gates were down, and money is what dropped them.

Provenance vs. Price Tag

Auction catalogs are full of examples that prove this point. A watch owned by Paul Newman carries more cultural weight than the same reference fresh in a box. A beat-up Stratocaster smashed by Kurt Cobain commands a higher price than one untouched, pristine, and “better” by every objective measure.

In these cases, it’s not the wealth of the buyer but the shared understanding of provenance. The history embedded in the object drives the real value.

Taste is the ability to connect those dots: to see beyond the glossy surface and into the story that makes an object matter. While the cash dropped the gates, it never has and never really will get you into the “private back room” where the deals are made even before the item is technically for sale (or at least it hasn’t yet).

When Everything Gets Expensive 

We are living in a time where nearly every corner of culture has been financialized and commodified. Rally is, admittedly, part of the problem and ALSO the solution (hate us if you want, but very few financial platforms put democratization in practice the way we have).

Sneakers, cards, cars, fossils, handbags… entire categories once seen as hobbies are now asset classes. This boom has brought in waves of new buyers, flush with capital but light on context.

Suddenly, the “good” Rolex or Birkin isn’t the one that speaks to a moment or a narrative - it’s whichever one has the highest multiple on the auction block. That’s not taste. That’s asset-ambiguous speculation. And speculation is fleeting.

Interestingly enough, as the elites continue to gobble up the most exclusive exotic skin Birkins, the trend for the tastemakers has dramatically shifted toward the other end entirely, with the “beat up Birkin” becoming a kind of unspoken signal for success. The most expensive one ever sold was a mess (albeit, a mess with the best story).

The Collector vs. The Hoarder

This is where it gets a little blurry… there are PLENTY of ultra wealthy hoarders who are just buying everything and anything based solely on the most relevant-of-the-moment social currency. But its still just hoarding…

What separates a collector from a hoarder isn’t scale, it’s curation. Taste is about editing. It’s about saying “no” more often than you say “yes.” The most admired collections aren’t the largest, they’re the ones that feel inevitable - where each piece deepens the story of the others.

A true collector doesn’t chase the market’s whims. They create them. Money, on the other hand, doesn’t actually create anything. Its just numbers moving from one spreadsheet to another.

The collector who uses their love and knowledge as their currency finds beauty where the market hasn’t yet looked. They spot the overlooked prototype, the under-appreciated artist, the obscure whiskey cask. The 100 ft dinosaur [shameless plug 😉] thats still in the ground that a billionaire wants to see fully mounted in a professionally shot photoshoot before even considering a bid. The collector buys because it speaks to them, not because it checked a box on a “Top 10 Assets to Watch” list.

Democratizing Taste

Rally’s bet - and the bet of this whole ecosystem - is that taste doesn’t need to be locked up in private banking lounges or velvet-roped auction houses. The myth that you need a billion dollars and an advisory team to participate in culture is unraveling (to break the 4th wall a bit and insert personal opinion, i’m thankful for this incoming shift).

The truth is that access, not capital, has been the limiting factor. By opening ownership to more people, taste starts to diversify. It’s no longer just the domain of old money or the newly wealthy who copy their moves. It’s informed by a broader spectrum of collectors, each bringing their own lived experience to what’s worth saving, preserving, or owning.

The first hints of it happened in Fine Art where the top end of pure speculation took a pause in recent years - which is usually where the money movements signal change. But this is where ALL of this is headed.

The Future of Taste

As the lines blur between cultural objects, investments, and experiences, taste will matter more than ever. The future collector won’t be judged on how much they can spend, but on the clarity of the narrative they’re building. The myth of taste being tied to wealth will finally die, and in its place will be something more interesting: taste as a form of authorship.

To collect is to write yourself into history. The most important question won’t be “How much did it cost?” but “Why did it matter?”

In a world where money is abundant but meaning is scarce, taste becomes the rarest commodity.

The myth is over: wealth alone can’t create it. Taste is earned, built, and shared. And that’s what makes it more valuable than ever.

Until Next Week...