For the past dozen years, Bernard Arnault, mastermind and chairman of LVMH, owner of Dior, Louis Vuitton and Tiffany, architect of the modern luxury industry and erstwhile richest man in the world (currently No. 10), has been quietly making an effort to soften his image. Or at least round it out, the better to offer an alternative to the narrative that paints him as a rapacious capitalist and exploiter of family-run heritage companies, famous for wringing gently creative spirits dry.
He spent hundreds of millions of dollars on the Fondation Louis Vuitton, the museum in the Bois de Boulogne that will become a gift to Paris, and underwrote the Paris Olympics. He has begun emphasizing the amount of taxes he pays, and the hundreds of thousands of people he employs. He has even done the occasional interview. All to not much avail.
When his name was mentioned, it was still attached to words like “cold,” “ruthless” and “inscrutable,” not to mention the nicknames “the wolf in cashmere,” “the Terminator,” and “the Machiavelli of finance.”
Well, it turned out all he really needed was an X.
Or rather, all he really needed was a somewhat self-deprecating three-page open letter titled “thank you” that the LVMH press office posted on X. The letter was his response to a much-ballyhooed six-part investigative series by the newspaper Le Monde that focused on his family, his five children and succession planning, his relationship to politicians, his business strategy and so on.
In it, rather than accuse the reporters of errors, he simply made fun of what had been presented as certain telling details (the idea that he made visitors who showed up with Hermès ties change their clothes; the trim figures of all his employees; his family meals). The effect was to transform them from gotcha moments into ha-ha moments, and showcase a quality that no one had ever really associated with Arnault before, at least not publicly: a sense of humor.
And the effect of that was to transform Arnault, almost overnight, from an empire-minded automaton into a relatable human being.
To date the post, which went live on July 26, has been viewed nearly eight million times. It has been applauded by as diverse a group as Bill Ackman, the billionaire hedge fund manager and activist investor, who encouraged his followers to read it; Nadhim Zahawi, the British politician and former chancellor of the Exchequer, who called it “a tour de force”; and Louis Pisano, the cultural critic/industry watchdog, who called it “sassy.”
It has made Arnault a hero, at least momentarily, of the Trumpworld masters of the universe (or would-be masters of the universe), who cheered on his snapback at the media, and fashion’s social media chattering class — two echo chambers that normally have nothing to do with each other.
The reaction was so unexpected that Arnault did an even more uncharacteristic thing. He made his debut on X on July 27, at age 77, with a note to all of the people who liked or reposted or otherwise helped platform his letter. “I was deeply touched by the many messages you sent me following my open letter to Le Monde,” he wrote. “I wanted to thank each and every one of you, directly and personally, here on X.” That one has been viewed more than 11.5 million times.
According to Antoine Arnault, the LVMH head of image (a position created in 2018 specifically to address the issues of public perception) and Bernard Arnault’s eldest son, the letter was entirely his father’s idea, as was joining X.
It certainly marks a shift in approach for the executive, who in the past rarely responded to criticism or coverage — at least unless it came from a business opponent in the middle of an acquisition fight. It seemed even more personal than a 90-plus-minute interview for the podcast “Legend” released at the beginning of the month in which Arnault occasionally laughed and otherwise let his metaphoric hair down.
And in that may be a lesson for luxury, a universe built on the twin poles of mystique and control and a reluctance to let anyone see behind the velvet curtain. By revealing an ability to laugh at himself in a somewhat snarky, made-for-the-internet way, rather than simply go on the formal attack, Arnault let his feelings show. He also got a little messy.
Mess has traditionally been a quality assiduously avoided by the luxury world. But there is clearly a fine line between the perception of magic and the feeling of manipulation, and fashion consumers have begun to sense more of the latter in their interactions with brands and the people who make them. Sales have shrunk, and a backlash has been brewing. The industry itself may be in need of some image rehab. It should take note.
