Maxine Rizik is one of the last members of the family to be directly involved in Rizik's, the D.C. boutique that has been in business for more than a century. (Jahi Chikwendiu/The Washington Post)

But for a long time, most people here in D.C. aimed for discretion. They didn’t drive flashy cars or wear as-seen-in-Vogue fashion. Once, years ago, I complimented a Washington social mover on a particularly lovely Hermès Kelly bag she was carrying. She smiled uncomfortably and began a lengthy story detailing how she’d come by it almost accidentally and it really wasn’t as expensive as one might assume and … oh-God-I’m-so-mortified-that-you-noticed-it!

Today, the locals have become more ostentatious. More obvious. Money now speaks at a near earsplitting volume that is equal to — or even louder than — the roar of power. Everything from coffee to condos has been brushed with the patina of luxury. Washingtonians have witnessed a surge of high-end fashion, million-dollar homes, chef’s tasting menus, budget-busting boutique fitness classes, Teslas and Bentleys. The current commander in chief is a real estate mogul with a professional and personal philosophy rooted in gilding the lily. The White House Cabinet is stocked with millionaires. Even baseball, America’s pastime, is a luxurious experience in contemporary Washington, involving club seats, the Lexus lounge, gourmet buffets and craft brews. It seems like there is no product or activity, no matter how mundane, that hasn’t been fetishized into a marker of personal success and status.

This never-ending, highly visible social stratification — in Washington as elsewhere — recalls the dynamics of air rage. Researchers have found that economy-class passengers are more likely to act out on flights that have first-class cabins, suggesting that their anger was sparked by the awareness of disparity rather than the actual shortcomings of their own cramped seating in coach.

“The modern airplane reflects a social microcosm of class-based society, making inequality salient to passengers through both the physical design of the plane … and, more subtly, the boarding procedure,” write researchers Katherine DeCelles and Michael Norton. “People’s perceptions of their relative socioeconomic status are influenced by situational factors. … Even temporary exposure to physical inequality — being literally placed in one’s ‘class’ (economy class) for the duration of a flight — relates to antisocial behavior.”

People are even more agitated if they board a plane and can actually see the other class. Those in economy are more likely to have exasperated “emotional outbursts” when they get a look at the Barcalounger-size seats and the preflight champagne up front.

You don’t hate them for being able to afford their comfortable seats. Heck, if you could afford a first-class ticket, you’d buy one too. You hate the fact that the better, nicer seats exist at all. (Meanwhile, according to the research, when all classes board a plane through the same door, those in first class — more acutely aware of their relative privilege than if they had boarded through a separate door — are also more likely to be “belligerent” jerks.)

While the dazzlingly wealthy tend to live so far beyond the average person’s gaze — on their private islands or national-park-size ranches — that their expressions of luxury are nearly invisible, it’s the luxury goods people encounter every day that set their teeth on edge. It isn’t the exotic car collection parked inside some mogul’s custom garage; it’s the double-parked BMW in front of Whole Foods. Or the pictures of the mogul’s fancy cars in your newspaper.