There’s really no subtle way to write this, so I suppose I’ll rip the Band-Aid off: I think exclusivity is good. I might even say it’s important, the more I think about it. And as someone who edits a lifestyle magazine, it’s something I find myself thinking about quite a bit. Of course, exclusivity is a touchy subject — and I get it. I’m certainly not advocating for the “old boys’ club” or exclusivity for the purpose of division. Rather, I think — in the right instances — embracing exclusivity is a means of raising the bar, reigniting ambition, and, ironically, forming more genuine communities.

If that all sounds too esoteric, let me offer a more concrete example. Two years ago, a premium running brand released its “BQ Singlet,” a commemorative garment reserved for runners who qualified for the Boston Marathon. In promoting the singlet, its Instagram caption read, “[We] wanted to make sure it’s something special for qualifiers only. Hard to get, harder to earn.” As a runner — and a bit of a running snob, at that — I loved the concept. After all, people work their entire lives to qualify for the Boston Marathon. They put forth months of tireless training hoping that the stars might align for a single race. And their reward for such dedication? They have the privilege of running another, even harder race. To me, celebrating those feats with a singlet felt, at the very least, justified.

Unfortunately, about 1,500 infuriated Instagram comments declaring righteous indignation disagreed with me. Of course, the brand folded by the end of the day, the post was deleted, and presumably, 1,500+ people bought Boston Marathon singlets without ever having to step on a start line. In an attempt to maintain what the running world saw as “inclusion,” to me, the backpedal simply watered down any true sense of community held by those with a shared ambition.

Naturally, I’m biased. At SHARP, exclusivity is present and celebrated on most of our pages, whether it’s bespoke interiors lining the world’s most sought-after vehicles or limited-edition clothing capsules from renowned designers. We showcase rare watches over stunning 10-page spreads and celebrate Toronto’s newest Michelin restaurants. Do I resent the writers and industry friends who were able to secure reservations before me? Or our readers, who own the very watches we feature? Of course not. I find it aspirational. There’s a wide chasm between “exclusion” and “exclusivity” — exclusion views the bar as a barrier to turn away from, exclusivity views it as a benchmark to exceed.

I think our cover star, Usher, puts it most succinctly. Positioned simultaneously as “a guy’s guy and a lady’s man” (in his own words, in a way only he can do), Usher’s reach is universal. And yet, as he describes his role as the new face of Ralph Lauren Fragrances, he frames the new Ralph’s Club New York fragrance and its ethos as a sort of club. It’s open-invite, sure, but there’s a code to adhere to. Although everyone can attain the mantle of a “Ralph’s Man,” you have to reach for it.

“You have to embody romanticism in your life, entirely,” he tells me in our cover interview. “Casualness is something that we can all easily do. But it takes effort to be elegant. It takes effort to dress up and put on. And I think we’re coming back to a time where that effort is really embraced.”

Maybe the shift toward exceeding the bar set before us isn’t entirely mainstream yet, but I suppose that’s the point. If I can extrapolate from Usher’s words, and many of the pages in this issue, it seems that exclusivity — and the high standard it sets extrapolate from is alive and well. There’s value in training hard, running fast, failing, running faster, and, perhaps one day, earning the singlet.

— DAVID STOL, Managing Editor

FEATURE PHOTO BY LUIS MORA. SUIT BY BOSS.