When airlines chase luxury, they run the risk of losing themselves

There’s a curious trend sweeping through aviation right now. On the surface, it looks like progress… airlines pouring millions into new cabins and lounges, updating their products to match what’s deemed “luxury” in a modern sense. But peel back the layers, and something gets lost in translation. Increasingly, I see carriers sacrificing their soul for a generic version of what luxury should look like.

It’s not that the products aren’t good – far from it. But I keep asking myself a simple question: when you walk into a cabin or a lounge, do you instantly know which airline you’re flying? If the answer is no, then something fundamental has slipped away.

Take Lufthansa and Swiss. Two proud flag carriers with distinct national identities, two histories steeped in culture and design. Yet their latest business class seats are virtually indistinguishable. One comes in red accents, the other in blue. Beyond that? Good luck telling them apart. These are airlines that should be dripping with character, not blending into a corporate sea of beige luxury.

Virgin Atlantic has always understood this instinctively. Step into one of their lounges and you know instantly where you are: retro-futuristic curves, bold colour palettes, a wink to 60s glamour that feels fun but distinctly Virgin. Onboard, it’s the same. That deep purple mood lighting is so ingrained in their identity that it almost acts as a brand logo in the sky. You don’t need a menu or safety card to tell you who you’re flying with, you should instinctively feel it.

Or consider Cathay Pacific. I’d argue they created one of the most recognisable lounge design languages in the world. The combination of wood, leather, marble, and of course those signature green hues sets an atmosphere that’s elegant but unmistakably Cathay. Walk into The Pier in Hong Kong and you’re enveloped by a sense of calm that could only be theirs. It’s not just luxury. It’s brand immersion.

And then there are the airlines who lean into their cultural roots, and in doing so, create something both authentic and unforgettable. Fiji Airways infuses island warmth and Pacific motifs across its passenger experience. Air Tahiti Nui takes you straight to French Polynesia with design cues that mirror the ocean and sky. These carriers don’t feel the need to borrow an international design dictionary to define “premium” – they simply draw from what makes them unique.

Even small touches can make a difference. Turkish Airlines still hands you Ottoman-inspired salt and pepper pots in business class. LATAM’s new lounges bring Latin American textures, colours, and references into spaces that might otherwise have been generic. These aren’t gimmicks… they’re grounding elements, reminders that luxury can (and should) be rooted in identity.

Because here’s the truth: true luxury isn’t about ticking boxes of what a five-star hotel lobby looks like. It’s about recognition, authenticity, and a sense of place. That’s why so many hotel brands are rushing to “localise” their properties with subtle nods to the culture they inhabit. Airlines, strangely, seem to be moving in the opposite direction.

It worries me. The industry appears caught up in a race towards common denominators: flat beds, Wi-Fi, bigger screens, mood lighting, beige palettes, wood veneer. All important, yes, but dangerously interchangeable. A business class seat shouldn’t be a commodity. It should be a calling card

If you work at an airline, ask yourself: what’s the one detail that guests will remember as iconically yours? It might be a colour. It might be a pattern. It might be an architectural detail in your lounge or even the way your crew serve a drink. These touchpoints matter. They become the shorthand passengers use to connect with your brand.

And if you travel frequently, think about the moments that stick with you. They’re rarely the generic luxury touches. They’re the ones that made you smile because they could only come from that airline. A warm bowl of ramen on ANA. The lantern-like lighting in a Qatar Airways lounge. The sparkle in Emirates’ cabin that borders on theatrical but feels unapologetically Emirates.

The danger of “common luxury” is that it makes airlines forgettable. Sure, you might impress in the moment, but if your product looks and feels like everyone else’s, what’s the memory you leave behind? As competition grows fiercer, it’s not just about delivering service – it’s about delivering an experience that can’t be mistaken for anyone else’s.

So my plea to the industry is simple: stop chasing a homogenous idea of luxury. Instead, double down on what makes you different. Own it. Celebrate it. Even lean into the stereotypes if they’re authentic, because they’re what passengers want to feel. Not caricatures, but cultural anchors.

In an era where loyalty is fragile and choices are many, the airlines who will stand out won’t be those who buy the same seats, install the same finishes, and hire the same consultants and suppliers every single time. They’ll be the ones who dare to look inward, to employ and empower their own creative directors, to rebuild their own DNA, and weave it through every touchpoint of the passenger journey.

When you step onboard or into a lounge, you should be able to close your eyes, inhale, and know – this is that airline. Anything less, however polished, is just another beige seat in the sky.

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