Why you shouldn't buy the cheapest – and is expensive the same as valuable?

There’s a certain kind of logic that feels almost rebellious these days: expensive is not the same as valuable. Where expensive shouts as loudly as possible, "Look at me! I paid too much for this, and you better notice!", the valuable simply mutters to itself, "This lasts, this feels good, this was made well."

And yet, the temptation to buy cheap underwear is undeniable. It’s everywhere, neatly packed in multipacks promising value for money. Even the hardware store has ten-packs of boxers, as if underwear belongs in the same impulse-buy category as duct tape and discount batteries. And buying them reinforces the illusion of being a responsible adult, someone who takes care of their basic hygiene. But here’s the question no one ever asks: What is the actual price I’m paying for this?

Cheap is never just cheap. Cheap is fabric produced at the lowest possible cost, designed to last about as long as a funeral suit (the one worn by the guest of honor). Once, in the Middle East, I bought a stunning pair of dress shoes at an outrageously low price. Later, I found out that no one in that country would ever buy shoes for themselves from that shop. Cheap means seams that technically hold pieces of fabric together but somehow still make their presence known long after you’ve taken the underwear off. Cheap rolls its way into your crack in the middle of an important speech as if to say "I’m out too." Cheap is a morning that starts fine but descends into midday agony.

What is the actual price I’m paying for this?

Cheap does not match with the environment either. Let’s take a minute to think about the surprisingly cheap "natural fiber, antibacterial, breathable fabric" that somehow manages to suffocate, trap moisture, and create a microclimate of regret. The kind that promises mindfulness but delivers only bad smells and existential doubt.

This isn’t just about comfort—it’s about recognizing reality. The real price of cheap underwear is paid elsewhere: in underpaid labor, environmental shortcuts, and the general apathy of mass production. You don’t need to be a detective to figure out that a pair of underwear costing less than a cup of coffee wasn’t made in a place where care and consideration were high on the priority list. If you’re getting something absurdly cheap, someone—somewhere—is paying for it in ways you don’t see.

Quality is never an accident. It’s a choice. A decision to invest in something better, even if it costs more upfront. In the end, you’re not just paying for a product—you’re paying for peace of mind. And, frankly, for the privilege of spending your day not thinking about what’s happening in your pants.

Don’t buy expensive. Don’t buy cheap. Buy what is valuable. The most valuable underwear won’t come in a multipack. It may very well be the most valuable item of clothing you own—and yet, you won’t think about it at all. It won’t weigh on your body or your conscience. And that’s exactly how it should be.