Forever Spinning, Forever Spending

The Curious Case of Luxury Tops

It’s rare for me to stray from writing about self-storage or commercial real estate, but every now and then, something so absurd catches my attention that I can’t help but share it. For instance, here’s a link to a blog post about banana art.

As part of my daily routine, I often find myself browsing WSJ.com or Bloomberg.com. About two weeks ago, I stumbled upon an all-out advertising blitz for Foreverspin — a company that sells metal spinning tops. Yes, spinning tops, marketed toward discerning collectors who seemingly already own everything else. Imagine purchasing a tungsten top for $197, a product that does nothing more than spin — and only if you spin it yourself.

A Damascus stainless steel top costs $365. If you’re so inclined, you can buy the entire collection of 25 tops for $1,964 — a “bargain” at $78 per top.

I couldn't help but watch the video to see a marvel of marketing. According to the pitch, these tops supposedly inspire creativity for office professionals. Science teachers can buy a five-pack to teach students about the periodic table, and kids will apparently be captivated by their simplicity and elegance (though probably for no more than five seconds). Millennials, ever resourceful, have even turned these tops into a drinking game. To be fair, we turned plenty of equally ridiculous things into drinking games, so I can’t judge too harshly. 

So, why am I writing about this?

For starters, it’s a brilliant example of effective marketing. The product itself is, frankly, ridiculous — but it’s marketed as a unique, functional piece of art that fosters creativity and provides entertainment. I have to admit, they’ve done an impressive job of turning a piece of metal (first invented around 3,500 BC) into something that stands out.

The second reason I find this fascinating is that it highlights how much money Americans waste on frivolous purchases. Now, I don’t think tops are inherently stupid — unless, of course, you’re spending $123 on one made of black zirconium. This is the kind of thing that eventually gets tossed into a drawer, forgotten, and later ends up in self-storage, only to be donated to Goodwill years down the line.

It worries me that the divide between the haves and have-nots has created an environment where the wealthy would buy this because they have bought everything else imaginable. The have-nots see the cost of a cast iron top as the equivalent to  a full tank of gas. Something they would need to get through their weekly commute.  I see a serious divide occurring that doesn't seem to be decelerating―and that's not great for the US.