NFTW: Reclaiming The Narrative

What’s good my people? I hope we’re all doing well. Spring is well and truly here and I hope my readers in the UK have been enjoying the sunshine you’ve been having recently. For my US readers — make sure you’ve done your taxes. This week we’ll be taking a look at the TikTok luxury exposes that have been taking place and getting into the beautiful “luther” music video that was recently released by Kendrick Lamar and SZA.

When Artisans Speak: Chinese Manufacturers Reimagine Luxury

I was scrolling through TikTok last week when the algorithm brought me face-to-face with a leather craftsman from Guangdong Province. Speaking directly to camera from his workshop floor, he methodically deconstructed the mythology of a certain famous French handbag—showing identical materials, identical techniques, and then delivered the punchline that's reverberating through luxury circles: the production cost is roughly $1,300, not the $30,000+ retail price.

What struck me wasn't just the price revelation (as many of us already knew this), but the confident transparency. This wasn't counterfeit culture apologising for itself; this was expertise claiming its rightful place in the conversation. "We make these for them," one artisan stated matter-of-factly, before showcasing his own branded creations.

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These videos represent something more profound than factory-direct marketing. They're challenging the very premise of what constitutes luxury in the 21st century. If luxury was built on craftsmanship, heritage, and quality materials, what happens when those same elements become democratised and transparent? When the same hands that create for storied European houses decide to build their own narratives?

The phenomenon reminds me of conversations I've had about Ralph Lauren, who we've previously discussed in this newsletter. Lauren understood that luxury isn't just about the physical product—it's about world-building and storytelling. For decades, European luxury houses maintained their premium through carefully constructed narratives about artisanal traditions and exclusivity. But social platforms have created what media theorist Douglas Rushkoff might call a "collapse of context" where the distance between maker and consumer, between backstage and front stage, has virtually disappeared. Once you've watched an artisan create a nearly identical bag for a fraction of the price, the spell of exclusivity begins to weaken. The question shifts from "Is it authentic?" to "Which authenticity matters more the logo or the craftsmanship?"

In this new landscape, Chinese manufacturers aren't just competing on price or quality they're competing on narrative transparency. And in an era where consumers increasingly value authenticity and direct relationships with creators, this approach resonates deeply. The implications extend beyond handbags and wallets. We're witnessing a broader renegotiation of what constitutes value in a globalised, yet increasingly fragmented world. When the craftspeople who've long been the anonymous hands behind luxury decide to step into the spotlight, it could fundamentally change the power dynamics of an entire industry.

luther: The Art of Visual Reverence

There's something about the way Kendrick Lamar moves through culture; deliberate, intentional, almost monastic in his restraint. He's never in a rush to drop. Never afraid of silence. So when he and SZA dropped the video for "luther" last week, it felt like witnessing a cultural moment that transcends typical music video consumption but something closer to a visual meditation.

Directed by Karena Evans, the video embodies a quiet power that mirrors the song itself. Evans, who has established herself as one of music's most thoughtful visual architects, brings a cinematic sensibility that favours stark backgrounds, nuanced lighting shifts, and compositions where every glance carries weight. What struck me most was the visual restraint and how it refuses spectacle in favour of presence.

The video features Kendrick and SZA alongside actors Annahstasia Enuke and Geron McKinley, who portray a depth of intimacy rarely afforded to young Black couples in mainstream visual culture. It's tenderness without melodrama. Connection without exploitation. If Kendrick and SZA are composing love letters through sound and vision, then Luther is their refusal to make love small. It's a declaration that tenderness can be cinematic. That softness, too, deserves a spotlight. In an era where relationships are often portrayed through extremes, there's something radical about this quiet depiction of Black love.

What makes this particular homage so effective is how it engages with its inspiration. The track samples Luther Vandross and Cheryl Lynn's 1982 duet "If This World Were Mine," and the video concludes with Vandross's original vocals. It's not leveraging nostalgia for easy emotional points; it's engaging in a cross-generational conversation about Black musical tradition. I was watching YouTube reactions to the video this week, and one comment particularly struck me. A young viewer remarked, "This made me go back to the original song and that boy [Luther Vandross] was cold." This is exactly what meaningful homage accomplishes – creating bridges across generations, leading new listeners back to the source, allowing them to discover the genius that came before.

I was speaking with a friend last night about what distinguishes genuine homage from hollow reference, and "luther" provides a perfect case study. True reverence isn't simply naming something or sampling it – it's understanding the emotional architecture behind the original work and building something that honours that foundation while extending it forward. Kendrick doesn't just reference Luther Vandross; he creates a visual and sonic space that embodies the emotional texture that made Vandross's work so enduring. Our generation of Hip-Hop was raised by parents who cherished the Luthers, Marvins, Whitneys, and Sades of the world. We can recall those moments watching our parents slow dance in the kitchen to these soul legends, the soundtrack to their love stories becoming woven into our own musical DNA. The video's closing scene, with SZA a flagbearer of our generation slow dancing in Geron McKinley's arms as Luther's original vocals play, creates a perfect full-circle moment. It's not just artistic homage it's cultural inheritance made visible, a beautiful acknowledgment of how these musical traditions live on through new interpretations.

This approach reminds me of something Toni Morrison once wrote about the responsibility artists have to their predecessors: "The function of freedom is to free someone else." In this case, Kendrick and SZA's homage to Luther Vandross isn't just about looking backward it's about carrying forward a particular tradition of Black musical vulnerability that creates space for future artists.

As we navigate an increasingly AI-driven creative landscape where algorithms can replicate style but not substance, works like "luther" remind us of the irreplaceable human elements of taste, discernment, and lived experience. The video demonstrates that in a world of endless content, the ability to create meaningful connections between cultural moments; to know not just what to reference, but why and how becomes increasingly valuable. So allow yourself to take it slow, keep your heart tender and your palate sharp.

There's a subtlety to this video that rewards repeated viewing, revealing new layers with each watch. It's a testament to what happens when artists at the height of their powers choose restraint over spectacle, reverence over reinvention, and presence over performance.

Until next week. Peace.