Have you ever wondered why, on an ordinary day, you end up spending €180 on a pair of running shoes that, just a year ago, you would’ve called “crazy expensive”? And why, once you put them on, you’re surprised enough to think: “They were absolutely worth every cent”?
It’s not magic. It’s psychology. And it works so well that you’re already in it before you even realize.
When price is a promise
Every number on a price tag tells a story. Not just how much something costs, but what it stands for. It’s an unspoken statement: “This item is worth this much.” And without thinking too hard about it, you respond.
If it’s cheap, you’re suspicious. If it’s expensive, you associate it with quality. If it’s somewhere in the middle—if it feels “right”—it’s like a missed shot that still hits: you buy it.
Price is like a book cover: it tells you a lot, but you only get the full picture by reading. And if you like the story, you might even think it deserved a higher price.
Price isn’t value (or cost)
Let’s rewind. Remember how we defined the difference between cost, price, and value?
Cost: raw materials, manufacturing, calculations, logistics.
Price: born from the market, but raised by psychology.
Value: that’s personal. It’s yours—not anyone else’s.
Value is that quiet voice whispering, “These shoes will make you run better.” Maybe they will, maybe they won’t. But if you believe it, then it’s true for you. Value is a personal concept, remember?
The run starts in your head
When a brand promises that a new midsole compound will shave 15 seconds off your pace per kilometer, they’re not just selling foam and engineering. They’re selling a story. They’re speaking to who you want to become, not just who you are now. They’re talking to your Future Self—not the “you” of today, but the “you” you’re working toward.
You—maybe chasing a new personal best or just looking to make your Sunday long run a bit easier—respond, “I’m in.” And you drop fifty more euros than you planned. But you’re smiling—not like a customer, but like an optimist.
The Birkin case (act two)
Yes, let’s go back—to the luxury living room, where prices are so extreme they redefine what feels normal.
A Hermès Birkin bag doesn’t cost over €10,000 (though it can reach €25,000 or €40,000) because of the materials. Sure, they’re premium—but they’re still just materials. Nor solely for the craftsmanship involved. It costs that much because it’s a Birkin.
It’s a story, a symbol, a language. And you understand it without needing to study it. One glance and you know what it’s worth—not economically, but psychologically.
You’ve done it too. And no, you didn’t get fooled.
Think back to the last time you bought a pair of running shoes.
You saw them and thought, “Really nice, but way too pricey.” Then you read a review. Watched a video. Saw someone else wearing them. And finally, you tried them on.
That’s when something clicked. “They feel good. And if they work…” You bought them. Maybe spending way more than you expected or wanted—but you justified it, because to you, they had value. At that moment, the price wasn’t a barrier anymore. It was a bridge between who you are and who you hope to become—with those shoes on your feet.
Cost is the summary. price is the novel
When someone tells you, “Those shoes only cost €30 to make,” they’re not lying—but they’re only giving you part of the story. Like reading a one-line summary of Fight Club and thinking you understand who Tyler Durden really is (no spoilers).
Sure, you can recap the plot quickly—but it’s not the same as reading the book. You miss the twists, the nuance, the emotion. The value.
A shoe isn’t just mesh and rubber. It’s design, desire, trust. It’s a small leap of faith. An investment in yourself. A quiet statement that says, “I believe.” And maybe, just maybe, that’s what got you running in the first place.