It makes sense, then, that Louis Vuitton has now amplified its presence here – although not with a glitzy fashion gala, or a giant Ghesquière exhibition, but through the quiet expansion of their Objets Nomades project. “Miami doesn’t need another fashion moment,” reflects Burke, who notes that the very foundation of this brand is rooted in Gaston-Louis Vuitton’s design innovation for the flat-topped travelling trunk. So, “when we come to Miami, we are respectful of the design industry. And we want to be a player in the design industry.”
Accordingly, this year marked the first satellite showcase of Louis Vuitton’s Objets Nomades furniture – although it has maintained an impressive presence at the Design Miami tent, it has also evolved into an exclusive off-site affair for customers whose relationship with Vuitton extends beyond the transactional. “Transactional modes are really only appropriate for generic products – bars of soap, toothpaste,” Burke smiles of the 400 guests invited from around the world to explore rooms installed with Marcel Wanders sofas and André Fu’s conversation chairs (alongside more exotic handbags and custom-order trunks than you’d ever find elsewhere). “But there are other ways of spending: with time, with curiosity.”
Those who invest in Objets Nomades are testament to the fact: the furniture Louis Vuitton creates is not flashy; is not decorated with monograms or formed from exotic skins, but has a quiet, understated elegance. Rather than simply seeking status symbols, its customers are looking for pieces whose creation can not only be traced from ideation to atelier, but offer entry into a world where they can meet the designers, and learn the stories of their inspirations firsthand. “They don’t want to be marketed to; they don’t want to be sold to; they’re not looking for a monolithic, top-down, one-vision brand story,” says Burke. “What they are seeking is authenticity and provenance.”
Take, for example, its new shelving system designed by Andrew Kudless: they don’t simply want to know that it’s limited edition, or particularly valuable, nor that those coming to their houses might immediately understand those facts. “They want to know Andrew, the man who drew that [shelf]. And why did he draw it; what inspired him? In what way is it global? In what way is it Vuitton? How did we meet? How did this all come about?”
This exclusive subset of customers offer an interesting reflection of the luxury market as a whole: a space which, over the past decade and under the weight of the digital age, has radically shifted. A new generation of consumers are more in tune to marketing gimmicks than those who preceded them; are increasingly bombarded with information; are hyper-aware of fashion’s role in a global context. They want custom clothing, exclusive colourways, rare trainers (Vuitton has now introduced a custom trunk to keep those in). But even more than that, says Burke, “They want to know: why did Virgil end up at Vuitton? They don’t want to hear that he is the best of his generation, and that’s why we hired him. That may be true, but that’s not enough. They want to know: where did we meet? How did we connect?
Accordingly, this year marked the first satellite showcase of Louis Vuitton’s Objets Nomades furniture – although it has maintained an impressive presence at the Design Miami tent, it has also evolved into an exclusive off-site affair for customers whose relationship with Vuitton extends beyond the transactional. “Transactional modes are really only appropriate for generic products – bars of soap, toothpaste,” Burke smiles of the 400 guests invited from around the world to explore rooms installed with Marcel Wanders sofas and André Fu’s conversation chairs (alongside more exotic handbags and custom-order trunks than you’d ever find elsewhere). “But there are other ways of spending: with time, with curiosity.”
Those who invest in Objets Nomades are testament to the fact: the furniture Louis Vuitton creates is not flashy; is not decorated with monograms or formed from exotic skins, but has a quiet, understated elegance. Rather than simply seeking status symbols, its customers are looking for pieces whose creation can not only be traced from ideation to atelier, but offer entry into a world where they can meet the designers, and learn the stories of their inspirations firsthand. “They don’t want to be marketed to; they don’t want to be sold to; they’re not looking for a monolithic, top-down, one-vision brand story,” says Burke. “What they are seeking is authenticity and provenance.”
Take, for example, its new shelving system designed by Andrew Kudless: they don’t simply want to know that it’s limited edition, or particularly valuable, nor that those coming to their houses might immediately understand those facts. “They want to know Andrew, the man who drew that [shelf]. And why did he draw it; what inspired him? In what way is it global? In what way is it Vuitton? How did we meet? How did this all come about?”
This exclusive subset of customers offer an interesting reflection of the luxury market as a whole: a space which, over the past decade and under the weight of the digital age, has radically shifted. A new generation of consumers are more in tune to marketing gimmicks than those who preceded them; are increasingly bombarded with information; are hyper-aware of fashion’s role in a global context. They want custom clothing, exclusive colourways, rare trainers (Vuitton has now introduced a custom trunk to keep those in). But even more than that, says Burke, “They want to know: why did Virgil end up at Vuitton? They don’t want to hear that he is the best of his generation, and that’s why we hired him. That may be true, but that’s not enough. They want to know: where did we meet? How did we connect?
What are the bridges?” In the information age, where everything appears available and no edition is ever limited enough, firmly establishing that relationship between a customer and a luxury brand appears of paramount importance – whether you’re buying a shelf or a handbag. In that sense, while Objets Nomades’s Miami expansion might not provide a conventional insight into the fashion sphere, its success – and judging by the enthusiasm of its crowd, it’s certainly a success – is definitely offering one.
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