Experience economy in India: When memories become social media status symbols

Diwali used to be about lighting up our homes. Somewhere along the way, it also became about making sure they looked good on Instagram. Earlier, the excitement revolved around homemade sweets, family rituals, card games and catching up with relatives. These traditions remain, but many gatherings now come with additional expectations. The décor must be distinctive, the outfits coordinated, the food presentation attractive, and the photographs worth sharing. What began as an occasion to bring people together has become an exercise in creating the perfect impression of togetherness.

And this phenomenon is hardly limited to Diwali. A birthday that once meant ordering a cake and inviting a few friends now comes with themes, customised decorations and elaborate arrangements. A dinner is no longer just dinner; it is a dining experience. A holiday needs an itinerary, preferably with a few places nobody else has discovered. Even doing nothing over the weekend can leave us feeling that we have somehow wasted it. When did having fun become so much work?

A generation ago, prosperity was often expressed through possessions: the bigger house, the expensive car, the jewellery brought out on special occasions. Today, particularly among young urban consumers, luxury is increasingly something you do rather than something you own. The new conversation starter is not necessarily "What did you buy?" but "Where did you go?"

The numbers reflect this shift. A 2026 EY-Parthenon and BookMyShow report found that 78 per cent of surveyed Indian consumers preferred spending on experiences over products. From concerts and travel to pottery cafés, themed celebrations and wellness retreats, we are discovering new ways to enjoy our money. There is good reason for this.

Research by Leaf Van Boven and Thomas Gilovich suggests that experiences often bring greater happiness than material purchases. Possessions lose their novelty, but experiences become stories, relationships and memories that stay with us. And perhaps that is precisely where the story becomes complicated.

In the past, we told these stories to family and friends, sometimes weeks after returning from a holiday. Today, the experience and its public narration often happen simultaneously. The holiday is documented while it unfolds. The restaurant is tagged before dessert arrives. The birthday reel may be planned before the birthday itself. Of course, people have always enjoyed showing off. The expensive car parked outside the house and the elaborate wedding were never entirely about personal satisfaction. What has changed is what we display, and how many people get to see it. A holiday can now communicate success to hundreds of people who were never there. Even memories have acquired an audience.

The irony is difficult to ignore. We spend considerable time and money organising an evening so everyone can enjoy themselves, only to spend part of that evening ensuring that the enjoyment is adequately documented. And the competition does not end when the photographs are uploaded. A friend's beautifully curated Diwali party raises expectations for our next gathering. An enjoyable weekend can suddenly feel uneventful after seeing what everyone else was doing. Someone else's destination birthday makes our restaurant celebration seem ordinary.

This is where the experience economy reveals its most interesting contradiction. Experiences were once celebrated as an alternative to materialism. Instead of accumulating things, we were encouraged to collect memories. Yet memories themselves can become another form of competitive consumption. The pressure is no longer simply to own more. It is to have done more, travelled further, celebrated better and lived more interestingly. The more uncomfortable possibility is that we may increasingly choose experiences not only for the happiness they bring, but for the impression they create. Perhaps we have not become less materialistic after all. We have not stopped collecting. We have simply found something less tangible to collect.

Before planning the next celebration, perhaps we should ask ourselves: Would I still choose this holiday if I couldn't share a single photograph? Would I enjoy this restaurant as much if nobody knew I had visited? Would a simple evening with friends still feel special if there were nothing remarkable to show for it? And when did simply having a good time stop being good enough? After all, the most memorable moments of our lives are not always the ones that make the best photographs. Sometimes, they are the ones during which nobody remembers to take a photograph at all.

(The author is an assistant professor at XLRI Delhi NCR)

The opinions expressed in this article are those of the author and do not purport to reflect the opinions or views of THE WEEK.