A crimson suede jacket worn by Michael Jackson during the Thriller era sold for slightly more over $2 million at a 2023 Sotheby’s auction. It was a jacket. It had been expertly preserved and sterilized. The buyer was probably aware that they could not wear it or utilize it in any traditional way. Nevertheless, they purchased it. Or, more precisely, in a room full of people who also desired it enough to be present, someone placed a higher offer than everyone else.
This transaction is not unique. The market for the possessions of deceased celebrities has been expanding gradually for decades, and it becomes faster each time a well-known person passes away. Kurt Cobain’s guitars, Marilyn Monroe’s dress, and Elvis Presley’s personal belongings all make their way through auction rooms where they sell for multiples of any reasonable material value. The buyers who purchase these items frequently don’t give any explanation other than that they want to “preserve” something significant. The justification seems plausible until you consider the costs and begin to question what the product is really supposed to do.
The underlying mechanism is called “celebrity contagion” by psychologists who study this. According to the belief, individuals don’t simply think these items belonged to renowned people; they also think the famous person’s existence is still present in the item. Usually not literally. However, that appears to be how the subconscious accounting operates. Consumer psychology research has demonstrated that, despite the fact that sterilization has no effect on the actual object, telling bidders that a celebrity’s personal item has been sterilized considerably lowers its perceived worth. The reasoning behind the price cut is that customers weren’t paying for the guitar, jacket, or sweater. The owner of the jacket was paying them for whatever it still contained.
This relationship almost instantly becomes more intense when a celebrity passes away. In the weeks that follow the announcement, there is typically what collectors refer to as a “death bump”—a dramatic increase in auction prices and goods sales. Demand is partly driven by simple media attention. However, a portion of it stems from an earlier, less logical human urge to hold what cannot be held in any other way, to touch something that the deceased person touched, or to possess something that was close to them. In markets where it has no business, grief generates demand.
All of this is amplified in an auction setting. Auctions are not impartial methods of determining prices. These are artificially created emotional settings where public bidding, competitive pressure, and the psychological phenomena known as the endowment effect all work together to drive prices significantly higher than what any one bidder would have set in a private transaction. Before the sale is finalized, the act of bidding—putting money on something—creates a sense of imagined ownership. Then, losing the auction is like losing something you already owned. To escape that emotion, bidders pay.
Another element that is more difficult to openly discuss for high-net-worth collectors is status. The buyer is placed in a certain cultural status if they win one of these auctions. They are now in charge of something that once belonged to a significant person. The item turns into a narrative they can share, a credential they can exhibit, and proof of their taste, resources, and access that cannot be obtained through regular spending. Some of these consumers could actually adore the artist whose creations they are buying. It’s also likely that what they are actually purchasing is a costly way for them to claim that they were the ones who desired it the most.
This market’s supply side has a set ceiling. It is impossible for a deceased superstar to create more genuine possessions. Every authentic object that is put up for auction is one that will never be found again. A floor beneath these prices that is unlikely to give way is created by this structural scarcity as well as a buyer pool that tends to grow over time as wealth concentrates and fan communities age. At two million dollars, the jacket might not be worth it. However, it might seem like a good deal in ten years.