good things don't make money.

musings from an ex fashion buyer on the state of the world.

I was bopping around a local TJ Maxx when I saw one of the saddest tragedies— a hideous table runner (or maybe it was a tablecloth) under the designer name Christian Lacroix. Depending on how old you are, you may hear this brand name and only think of cheesy, bargain hunting home goods. If you’re my age and definitely older, the sight of a hideous table runner bearing the name of Christian Lacroix makes you shake your head. Because you remember a time when that name commanded the utmost respect and embodied some of the highest levels of art and craftsmanship that there ever was.

So, what happened to Christian Lacroix and why did his name eventually end up getting slapped on TJ Maxx table linens? Well the answer is just as simple as it is complicated. The simple answer is: capitalism. You see, Christian Lacroix was a visionary. He worked at Hermes, Guy Paulin, and Versace (under accessories) and then for couturier Jean Patou before ultimately setting out to start his own eponymous brand in the late ‘80s. His designs were fanciful and ornate, definitely indicative of his foundations with historical costume. He fancied exaggerated shapes, lots of patterns and experimental fabrics. He received a ton of praise from fashion media, his clothing perfect for high-fashion editorial content and he was beloved by wealthy fashionistas.

There was only one problem—Christian Lacroix has never turned a profit. It was, by every business metric—a money pit.

In 1987, his brand was launched by the one and only LVMH—with Bernard Arnault starting to build what is now the most lucrative fashion group on the planet. At the time, Bernard Arnault was simply known around town as ‘that young guy who just bought Dior’—and he was itching to prove that this burgeoning luxury group (still known at the time as Financiere Agache) had what it took to run a proper couture house. But Arnault, despite being very French, did not inherit the ‘c’est la vie’ spirit that comes with artistry. Lacroix was an artist, a man of high taste— his boutique was decorated by Garouste and Bonetti, who Lacroix also wanted to design his perfume bottle which was nixed because of the high cost. The result was a massive perfume launch handled by the heads at Dior who ordered large quantities that only sold well in a few markets. Beyond the fact that Lacroix’s name recognition wasn’t there, the second consumer complaint was that the bottle was ugly and looked like a heart with an artery on top. (It was meant to look like a stone from the designer’s hometown, with a bit of coral—his favorite stone—on top.) This was a huge financial loss to LVMH. Thus began a downward spiral of licensing the designer’s name for every cash grab you can think of, which only tarnished the brand further.

Beyond that, Lacroix was not someone who was good at the art of selling. That relentless self promotion that seems so common today did not come natural to the designer. He was friends with Peter Lindbergh, the famed photographer, but never thought to ask him to photograph his campaigns for the potential buzz—he was just content to be friends. Lacroix knew Lindbergh was good friends with Linda Evangelista at the height of her fame, but never thought to tap his friend for a favor to have a supermodel star in his ads. The clothes were beautiful and revered by people of high taste, and for Lacroix that was enough. But Arnault was Lacroix’s boss, and ultimately he was and is a Frenchman with American businessman ambitions.

After years of trying, Christian Lacroix was abruptly sold off in 2005 to a Florida based company mostly known for its presence as duty free stores. All in, the fashion house had cumulative losses of more than €44 million.

But here’s the thing—high art doesn’t pay the bills. We all know this on some level. It’s why actors take the ‘blockbuster movie’ scripts that are god-awful so they can afford their lifestyle, and then get to the point in their careers where they can pursue passion projects that they know will not do well at the box office. (Harry Potter is far from god-awful, but Daniel Radcliffe is set for life and so he’s free to work on all the weird indie films he wants.)

The most thoughtfully made cuisine you’ve ever had in your life is never going to do McDonald’s numbers.

The best magazines are often hyper-niche, don’t have a large circulation and don’t pay their staff well—largely because they can’t.

The best clothing store you’ve ever been to probably doesn’t have as big of a retail footprint as Macy’s.

We’re currently in an era (which I think is on its way out) where success is measured in massive, gargantuan numbers. We’ve eschewed stories about the successful owner of 5 profitable and cool clothing stores to spend every waking moment wondering what billionaire luxury group owners are doing all day. We know what they’re doing all day…..they’re crafting the McDonald’s-esque business operations of their industry.

When we center their stories above all others, we change the perception of art and design. Slowly, nothing is good unless it is a massive hit. Everyone reframes their thinking to be in alignment with what the most people will like, not what their ideal customer would like. That’s why ‘90s minimalism was so popular then and now….it was at a time of financial downturn and it was easy. There’s not much that’s polarizing about Calvin Klein. But when we’re all doing that because we all want to be palatable and sell as much as possible, it becomes banal.

Maybe Christian Lacroix would have fared a lot differently if the men in suits didn’t push for his fragrance to offset the costs of his couture. Maybe if they just accepted Lacroix’s fate as a designer for a select few, they could have found a way to make what he was doing as cost effective as possible. Maybe we all need to be resigned to the fact that often, good things don’t make money.

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