Like so many things in life, luxury has had a tough time in 2020. Tables for eight, hotel suites and business-class flights all went from being prohibitive to prohibited thanks to the pandemic. The truth is the word had become so overused, so ubiquitous – plastered across everything from moisturisers to mince pies – that it no longer succeeded in making anything sound, well, special. Many of us watched as “luxury” hopped into bed with logos and Love Island, and the results were near fatal. The events of this year have certainly done their best to topple the concept in all its previous guises, yet the principles that it originally stood for, the feelings it engendered – luxury’s DNA, you might say – remain undiminished. Luxury, I would argue, just needs to be rebranded; its parameters redrawn.

When Mr David Hockney’s retrospective opened at Tate Britain in 2017, the exhibition’s curator described the artist as “engaging with the pleasures of being alive”. Engaging with the pleasures of being alive is something we all should be focusing on right now, and how you take your pleasures – with or without milk, sir? – is entirely up to you (as long as it’s legal). So, there are three words I would suggest make more sense, have more resonance and encapsulate what luxury really means right now, and going forward: pleasure, joy, freedom. Three emotions that have become increasingly important in an uncertain world.

Finding some of those pleasures may take a little more effort than it used to. To enjoy the new award-nominated French indie movie, Summer Of 85 (for fans of The Cure and stonewashed denim especially), you may have to subscribe to Curzon Home Cinema; wishing your grandmother happy birthday might mean singing over Zoom; to take in the Mr Donald Judd exhibition at MoMA you’ll have to reserve timed tickets or sign up for the museum’s Virtual Views. Want to tuck into a Big Mac with medium fries to help with a homemade hangover? You can order a takeout via Uber Eats. The pleasure is still there, it’s just the journey that got more virtual.

Fashion, which has always been about pleasure as well as practicality, has also had an interesting year. Would people stuck at home, communicating via FaceTime and Google Hangouts, still want to dress up? Would they wear only tops and not trousers (The New Yorker’s Mr Jeffrey Toobin aside)? The answer, it seems, was people still wanted to look good, because it helped them feel good. And the power of feeling good, as MR PORTER’s Health In Mind campaign emphasises, is not to be underestimated. The only difference with dressing today is that what we choose to wear is dictated less by trends, dress codes and commutes and more by comfort, self-expression and brand compatibility (ie, a label whose approach to business we feel comfortable with). We’re back to those three words: pleasure, joy, freedom.

One positive that was accelerated by the events of this year is that, in general, we became more accommodating and accepting of the way others choose to live, more appreciative of those who live well (by that I mean their principles and ethics), more satiated by the small pleasures in life. And for many of us those small pleasures include the clothes we wear; the investment pieces we yearn and save up for; the hidden details, or tactile fabrics, that only the wearer of a piece of clothing can truly appreciate – the private pleasures.

The masters of private pleasures in clothing tend, unsurprisingly, to be the quiet men and women of fashion; the designers who purr rather than roar into your wardrobe (more Tesla Model S than Bentley Bentayga). Look at the clothes by the Italian brand, Brunello Cucinelli, for example: cashmeres so soft, colours so subtle, craftsmanship so considered and clever that if they popped up on Tinder you’d ask them for a date without any small talk on WhatsApp first. They’re the sartorial equivalent of dining by candlelight.

Brunello Cucinelli is also a brand that, as the clock strikes 1.00pm each weekday, feeds all those who work at its headquarters in Solomeo lunch and wine before sending them home at 5.30pm with a ban on after-hours email. Buying something created by a brand such as this can make you feel good, both inside and out. Unfortunately, the price you pay for this is, well, the price. Pleasures such as these don’t come cheap, but they last.

Of course, Brunello Cucinelli isn’t the only brand that dedicates itself to the pursuit of excellence. There are many other labels – from Bottega Veneta and Dunhill to De Petrillo and The Row – whose dedication to traditional craftsmanship, technological innovation and considered elegance are unwavering. And it doesn’t all have to be about cashmere or sheepskin. Pleasure, too, emanates from performance wear brands such as Arc’teryx, for example, where it’s the pioneering design and details of a Gore-Tex shell jacket that effortlessly keeps out the cold and wind, keeps away the sweat and rain, and yet makes you feel you’re wearing nothing more heavy than a crisp cotton shirt that makes you smile with appreciation atop a Cumbrian fell (I speak from experience having literally run for the hills when the first lockdown began in March).

New into this mix of pleasure-wear – sounds much nicer than leisurewear – is a layer of beautifully crafted clothes from our own Mr P. label. We’ve collaborated with artisan makers such as Johnstons of Elgin, in Scotland, and Logo Firenze, in Italy, and used some of the world’s most covetable and comforting fabrics to create a new level of timeless pieces to keep and cherish. These are items that we hope will bring you comfort (check out the double-faced cashmere sweatpants) and joy (the moss-green shearling jacket) this winter. Add a couple of cocktails – a Hemingway or negroni, perhaps – that can now be delivered to your door fresh from The Wolseley. Mr Hockney’s approach of engaging with the pleasures of being alive feels nothing less than essential.