A RM40 Tiramisu And What It Says About Malaysians

If you weren’t living under a rock (and we’re going to make a bold assumption that you indeed are not living under one), you would have definitely heard of the latest trend frenzy that has taken both the internet and little coffee shops by storm.

Yes, we’re sure you’ve not missed the Tiramisu fiasco. But, while people have been lining up for hours and going to the extent of chasing down delivery trucks, hoping to secure a taste of the seemingly elusive Italian dessert, not many know what actually started the hype. 

Would you buy a RM40 tiramisu from a small town businesswoman?

It all started when one famously controversial dessert store posted their newest tiramisu dessert online with a RM40 price tag. Just a small town businesswoman promoting her newest product. Nothing crazy right? Wrong!  You see, as we mentioned, this seller is already known for all kinds of interesting(?) moments online from viral rants, oversharing, and a personality that you either adore or roll your eyes at.

She’s built her brand not through polished aesthetics or soft-focus flat lays, but by being unapologetically herself —loud, emotional, chaotic, and most importantly, relatable. So when she dropped a dessert priced higher than what you’d pay for a plated option at a boutique café in Bangsar, the internet did what the internet does best. It exploded. 

But before we pull out our digital pitchforks and cancel her, we need to ask ourselves the real question here and maybe it isn’t “why is the tiramisu RM40?”. Maybe it’s “why do things like this go viral in the first place?”

Hype is never accidental

In the age of social media, hype is never accidental. In fact it is hardly even about the product in the first place. It’s about being in the moment and being a part of a community, the cool kids specifically. Turns out, the need to say ‘I got it too’ or ‘I was there’ doesn’t disappear when you grow up. If anything, it just gets more expensive. Cause guess what hype’s distant cousin is. FOMO.

When something is framed as hard to get, when others are seen queueing for it, when it feels like a moment slipping through your fingers (stop singing, this isn’t a sad TikTok video) —you want to be part of it, even if your rational brain is screaming “It’s just dessert!” 

It’s not just dessert!

See what we did there. Sorry the opportunity was too good to miss. But yes, it’s proof you were part of something. That you didn’t miss out. That while others were still arguing on Twitter (sorry, X) about the price tag, you were already posting your first bite on IG Stories with a cheeky “worth it 😋” caption. And in this particular case, the Tiramisu isn’t just dessert. While the rest of the internet was still fighting over whether RM40 was too much, you were casually digging in with a plastic spoon, already forming your own opinion. No need for a thick piece. No need for validation. You did it. You tried it. Full stop.

It’s a small, satisfying win. The kind that doesn’t need to be flaunted—just quietly enjoyed. You don’t even need to finish the tub (though you probably will). What matters is that while others were still refreshing Twitter threads and drafting hot takes, you’d already moved on. That’s the real flex.

And that brings us to the real heart of the tiramisu discourse: the price. RM40. For one tub. To some, that number immediately sounds outrageous. For others, it’s not that deep—it’s just a one-time treat, the same way you’d splurge on a sushi lunch or a fancy drink at a cafe. But what this whole situation reveals is something marketers and behavioural economists have known for a long time:

Price isn’t just about affordability. It’s about psychology.

We love to think we’re rational creatures, that we evaluate purchases based on logic and comparisons—but most of the time, we don’t. We buy based on emotion, craving, timing, convenience, even mood. If that tiramisu dropped during the same week you were stressed out, had payday, and saw your friend post a rave review? You’re probably buying it too.

That RM40 doesn’t just cover cream cheese and sponge fingers—it covers the hype, the novelty, the feeling of “I got mine.”

And this is where it gets interesting. People assumed the dessert wasn’t “worth it” because it was being sold by a small business owner to a mostly M40–B40 audience. But that assumption misses a critical point: worth is subjective.

A luxury experience doesn’t have to come from a five-star hotel.

It can come from your favourite seller on TikTok, wrapped in cling film, handed to you in a plastic bag from the boot of a Myvi. And if it brings you that same little rush of joy, who’s to say it isn’t worth every ringgit?

For many in the M40 and B40 community, this is what makes the purchase justifiable. Not because it’s cheap—it’s clearly not—but because it delivers a sense of indulgence without the awkwardness of stepping into a space that feels “not for you.” It’s luxury, on your terms.