Luxury today is everywhere. Technology has made it possible for a woman living in Kansas City to dress the same as a woman in New York City. Travel is so accessible that anyone with a credit card can access once-exclusive, semi-exotic places. Real estate marketers have made amenities more important than square footage. Handbags and cars — which once served as signifiers of wealth — now signal nothing more than expenditure.

This need to communicate success through material goods was once considered a “new money” habit. But now it seems that all money is new money — the Annual Survey of Affluence & Wealth in America found that 69% of households with an annual discretionary income of $125,000 or more made their money in the last 15 years.

So if more people can afford to obtain the traditional wealth signifiers, what is the new symbol of success? In a word: privacy. Class is now based on one’s degree of separation — from the overwhelming pace of life, from the desire to live large in public, from the need to compare. Money — no matter when it was made — is a part of the equation in that it can buy you greater space to enjoy your time away from the madding crowds.

What does that mean to New Yorkers? Here are a just a few ways of finding out if you’re living well.

You eat well — at home.

Anybody can eat out in restaurants every night. Hobnobbing with the maître d’ and submitting to overpriced, fattening food served by snobby waiters is now just plain common.

What’s uncommon is a good meal — cooked at home by you or your personal chef — that allows you to spend private, relaxed time with friends and family.

Your building has a doorman, lobby, and basement — not a concierge, gym, and wine cellar.

The new “luxury” condos are the urban equivalent of shingling your house with rhinestones. They come with amenities and special spaces for residents — but spending time with your so-called neighbors is time in the public sphere. Old New York buildings give you two options: You’re at home or you’re not.

You buy art anonymously.

Collecting and enjoying art is a private matter of taste — a visual representation of what you find beautiful. And it is to be shared with people you love and respect. But making yourself prominent with a paddle or parading around galleries turns art into a status symbol as commercial as a pair of Jimmy Choos.

When you go on vacation, you don’t run into people you know.

Class is based on your relative proximity to East Hampton: The closer you are, the lower you are.

Your gym has more brick than marble on the walls.

Spending hundreds of dollars each month to belong to a marblelined temple of narcissism doesn’t get you a better workout. Neither does waltzing through a gym lobby wearing the latest Stella McCartney Adidas gear and waving to your acquaintances. If you’re doing anything more than addressing your cardiovascular needs via a sweaty workout, you’re sliding down the scale.

You do not multitask.

If you can separate yourself from the need to do 15 things at once, you’re living a more calm and orderly life than others. Stopping a live conversation for a Bluetooth call or gabbing on a cell phone while shopping is not only rude, but also public. Get a room.

Your travel options include private jets, hybrid vehicles, taxis … and the subway.

Taking a commercial flight is the surest way to waste time through delays, baggage loss, and waiting in line. If you can afford private air travel, you’re at the top of the heap.

In the city, hiring a Town Car gives you some measure of privacy, but sometimes it’s faster and more sensible to hail a cab or take the subway. (Refusing to take the subway is a form of snobbery.) When you’re behind the wheel, ostentation has given way to awareness. Hybrids are it.

When you give gifts, you pick them out.

Asking the advice of a salesperson is one thing. But delegating the responsibility for gifts to a personal shopper, concierge, or assistant of any sort means involving a third party in a personal relationship. It’s an admission that you don’t have time or the inclination to think through about your relationship with the recipient. And it likely means that your public life is more important to you than your private life.

You have a boat.

It’s the ultimate getaway. You can dock in a port and socialize — or set off to a secluded location where you won’t see anyone you don’t want to see.

And in the end, that sense of exclusivity is the telltale sign of living well: You decide how fast or slow to move; you choose whom to see or not; you buy or pass based on your tastes. You’re separate — and you cherish it.

pcatton@nysun.com

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