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The Gucci Identity Crisis

What do Kering’s stock price and a Gucci belt have in common? The current trend is for both of them to hang low. 

With the controversial announcement of Demna leaving Balenciaga for Gucci, Kering’s share price dropped by a shocking 11%. Fashion experts have a wide range of opinions on the reason behind this, whether it be a personal distaste for Demna’s design philosophy, perceived lack of finesse or skill, or what seems to be the prevailing consensus: that he doesn’t ‘fit’ at the Italian house. 

Gucci accounts for over 50% of its parent company's revenue, and Demna is known for his ability to convert press into profit. Looking past subjectivities of beauty, taste or fashionability, the move appears a wise business decision. Through the eyeglass of an investor, whether Demna’s oversized silhouettes and distressed textures would transfer into Gucci’s history is irrelevant.

Francois-Henri Pinault is not trying to ‘Be Different’ as Demna's Balenciaga hoodies loudly dictate. Rather, the entire idea of brand identity - particularly in the case of a massive legacy brand like Gucci - is absent. When fashion is corporatized and revenue-focused, brand identity doesn’t matter, or in Gucci’s case, is nearly non-existent.

For a recap on Gucci’s history, the brand started as a family-owned luxury leather goods brand. Inspired by aristocratic equestrian customs, Gucci would inject elements of such into their products. Most notably, the iconic green-red-green stripe descends from the colors of a classical saddle girth strap. 

Gucci saddle, late 20th century sold on auction at Sotheby's.

Other examples include the horsebit loafer, with a saddle slung across the bridge of the foot or the Jackie bag. Originally named the Fifties Constance, the bag uses the patina of a bamboo cane to emulate the silhouette of a horseshoe.

Seminal motifs that would become core to the Italian maison introduced throughout the family-owned era include the emblematic interlocking double G, flora pattern and displays of masterful craftsmanship and opulence through exotic leathers, suedes and animal hide. 

Flora scarf (left) designed for Princess Grace Kelly of Monaco. Jacqueline Kennedy (right) carrying her eponymous bag.

Sale of ready-to-wear clothing began in the mid-1960s, while presentation of collections began at New York City’s St. Regis in the 1970s. During this time under family management and design, clothing would mainly draw influence from the fundamentals that distinguished their leather goods. 

Marion York for Gucci's Fall 1973 collection. Foxfur trimmed coat, clutch and horsebit loafers. Photo by Pier Schermann for WWD.

Gucci 1981 Campaign. Loosely fitting garments and floral prints dominated the collection, spotlighting luxury and prestige.

Following a tumultuous period of family conflict, Tom Ford was hired to revive the label - marking the transition of Gucci into a modern high fashion brand. Tom Ford’s initial collections drastically strayed from the traditional Gucci image, creating hypersexualized and passionate garments.

Kate Moss for Gucci Fall/Winter 1995 in Milan- Tom Ford’s official debut. A blue silk v-cut button-up with dark blue denim jeans. Ford’s direction heavily contrasts with previous collections - emphasizing a sharp and tailored silhouette, with texture through fabric as opposed to more organic shapes, colorful patterns and exotic animal furs and skins.

Carmen Kass for Fall/Winter 2002 in Milan. Ford’s tenure de-emphasized motifs like the double-G and monogram. A more generic conception of clothing is epitomized in Crucifix necklaces, and all black looks, accentuating form and the body figure.

Gucci Spring/Summer 1997 Campaign. Sensual poses and references to intercourse starkly differentiate the preceding age of conservative and sophisticated luxury.

2004 saw disagreements with Pinault Printemps Redoute (now known as Kering) lead to Ford’s departure and the promotion of Alessandra Facchineti for womenswear, John Ray for menswear, and Frida Giannini to accessories. Giannini would eventually take over the full position in 2005, continuing down a similar direction while relaxing the raw sexual aggression of Ford’s vision. Towards the end of her directorship, she began drawing inspiration from all sources, including Art Deco and the Victorian Era.

Gucci Spring/Summer 2011 menswear. Tom Ford’s sensibilities represented in impeccably tailored suits, with an atmosphere of informality through relaxed styling choices, like rolled up sleeves.

Giannini would also revive the Jackie bag and flora print, reintroducing color into her collections. Nevertheless, her era would see even less ostentatious branding on clothing and bags, which would eventually lead to her firing and the introduction of the now-infamous creative vision of Alessandro Michele in 2015.

Alessandro Michele moved far away from Ford’s ultra-femininity and ultramasculinity, expressing that “you can be more masculine by showing your femininity.”

Gucci Spring/Summer 2015 Menswear. Michele’s first runway, he erases the divide between gender roles, designing menswear for women and womenswear for men.

Michele’s inspirations drew from an even wider variety than Giannini - from popular 2010s streetwear branding and simplicity to the renaissance’s frills and extravagance. A single glance at the collections originating from Ford/Giannini’s design philosophies and Michele’s maximalist garments is enough to display the divergence in Gucci’s trademarks. 

Gucci Spring/Summer 2001 under Tom Ford and Fall/Winter 2017 under Alessandro Michele. Solid colors and thorough fabric detailing contrast with vibrant embroideries and androgynous draping.

Despite Gucci’s enormous financial success under Michele’s vision, he would leave in 2022 with analysts citing ‘brand fatigue’, the same reason that brought the end of the aristocratic family-owned and Ford/Giannini eras.

With a short-lived tenure under Sabato de Sarno, minimalism was brought to the forefront as he sought to restore Gucci’s exclusivity and fix its overexposure.

De Sarno for Gucci's Spring-Summer 2024 collection. An oversized coat with a grey collared button-up and red-shorts.

Retaining principles of both the extreme tailoring from Ford’s time as well as baggy, draped silhouettes from Michele’s collections, he was quoted as wanting to “see you wearing Gucci, not Gucci wearing you”. Nevertheless, he stepped down in 2025, opening the door for the current posterboy of controversy into the house, Demna.

Gucci has reinvented itself and its image thrice now. While certain motifs may retain their presence through each iteration at varying levels, motifs aren’t enough to shape a comprehensive or powerful brand impression. Evidently, the idea of continuation has always been a relatively short-lived notion in the minds of Gucci’s consumers.

That isn’t to say that a strong image isn’t a good thing. Rick Owens’ obsession with grotesque contours and abstraction has created him a cult-like following. Despite Hermes’ history of hiring designers from both ends of the spectrum in the discreet Martin Margiela and glamorous Jean-Paul Gaultier, it has still maintained its nature of exclusivity and muted luxury.

Nevertheless, such a nebulous concept in the case of a label like Gucci is irrelevant to its success - and other conglomerate-owned maisons make this clear. If you were to look at one collection from Marc Jacobs and one from Virgil Abloh at Louis Vuitton, it would be false to say that there was an acute preservation of design philosophy or expression. Neither for John Galliano and Maria Grazia-Chiuri at Dior or Alexander McQueen and Matthew Williams at Givenchy. And still, collections are bought and shareholders made richer. 

Whether Demna’s signatures appeal to you or not, his inevitable overhaul of Gucci’s brand identity and reduction of previous designer’s philosophies is not a valid criticism of Kering’s choice. Evident from his work at Balenciaga, it is undeniable that Demna will be able to reinvent the house and bring it back to the vanguard of fashion discourse.

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‘Celebritism’ - Commercialization against Art

In 1993, Naomi Campbell walked down Vivienne Westwood’s Paris runway in twelve inch heels as part of the designer’s Fall/Winter 1993 collections. Halfway through, she slipped and fell - detonating the press and prompting other designers to ask her to fall on their runways. Campbell’s fall is just one example of the massive influence and commercial value that supermodels held. In spite of TIME magazine’s 1998 declaration that ‘the Supermodel was dead’, numerous iterations of models touted as the ‘new supers’ or ‘the next big six’ have continued to emerge, and in the case of the likes of Campbell, remained in the spotlight of fashion. That isn’t to say that the newer generations of supermodels aren’t as influential as those of the 90s just because designers aren’t asking models to trip on the runway anymore - but the target isn’t supermodels anymore. Linda Evangelista “wouldn’t get out of bed for less than $10,000 a day” in 1990; Anok Yai charged $15,000 an hour in 2024. Meanwhile, Beyoncé charges $100,000 to sit down at a show.  Yet, what isn’t discussed enough is the appropriateness of celebrity appearances. Just as it wasn’t particularly seemly for Valentino to cast ninety-percent white models for looks inspired by Maasai culture - celebrities can devalue and confuse a collection’s quality and coherence. Of course, fashion is a commercial industry. Collections may have wild artistic streaks and dazzling melodrama, but if product doesn’t sell, maisons go under. In contrast to bizarre casting choices, when customers see actors, singers, and influencers in the latest magazine editorial, walking down the runway, or seated in the front row, sales and attention for that brand are going up. The increase in prominence of this phenomenon in recent years is what I term ‘Celebritism’ - a focus on celebrity that directly clashes with the inherent artistry of the high fashion sphere similar to that of the ‘Supermodelism’ of the 90s. Instead of the appeal of collections being innovative textiles, original silhouettes or creative expression, much of the presentation of high fashion has cheapened into how many celebrities were casted in the runway - which in many cases actively detracts from collections.

Balenciaga’s FW2022 Haute Couture Collection is one of the most egregious examples of Celebritism. The collection as a whole is markedly inspired by Demna’s ideas of meta-fashion and his awareness of the cult-like following that surrounds him. The collection actively acknowledges such with the use of masks to cover the faces of its models through Looks 1-38, separating the concept of a wearer’s identity and the outfit - individuality as purely expressed through attire, yet that ego also perhaps being absorbed and erased by obsession with Demna’s brand.

Demna merged this with Balenciaga’s traditional house codes of attention to craftsmanship and material into the garments - highlighting that this collection attempts to bring Balenciaga and Haute Couture into the modern era. Masking the faces of the models not only drew attention to the specific details of the clothing, but also his desire to make Haute Couture more accessible, allowing the audience to project themselves into the clothing rather than just seeing it on red carpets, television and magazines.

With such a strong personal artistic intention and his fresh inspiration of Cristobal Balenciaga’s work and signatures through sharp, morphed silhouettes, detailed embroidered textures and innovative materiality - I think these ideas and appeals are very much diminished by its emphasis on the celebrity runway looks (that is, models whose main occupation is not modeling).

In a vacuum, Look 46 fits right into the collection. With a silver crystal-embroidered mini dress and detached train from the neck, which took 3,500 hours to make; Cristobal Balenciaga’s love of embroidery and rhinestones are shown in a modern context. The long train juxtaposes with the short cut to emphasize the unique shape and individuality of the piece itself - less so than hiding model’s faces under blackout visors, but achieves a similar effect. But the choice of Christine Quinn to model for the dress completely reverses the impact. Instead of expressing distinction through clothing, the focus becomes the fact that a Netflix Reality Star is walking down the runway at 10 Avenue George V. 

Cristobal Balenciaga Red and Black Sequin Embroidered Dress and Bolero, 1947. Demna references this crystal-embroidery motif within Quinn's look.

This jarring thematic conflict continues with Dua Lipa (Look 53), Kim Kardashian (Look 55) and Nicole Kidman’s (Look 56) styles. Though the outfits may be technical masterpieces and references to Cristobal Balenciaga's experimental materiality and draping. Dua Lipa and Nicole Kidman’s dresses, (though helped in no part to the flawed nature of the textiles) lack the same polished, smooth texture of the rest of the collection, only making the celebrity stand out more.

Cristobal Balenciaga taffeta dress and belt, 1951. He often used draping within his designs, and Demna's use of unorthodox fabrics in coated jersey for Kardashian or silver-coated taffeta silk for Kidman reflects the modernity that Demna wishes to inject into the brand. 

Kim Kardashian, wearing the ‘Body Dress’, which although could be a technical masterpiece appears in more or less her now standard celebrity uniform. It's disjointed and gimmicky, that the dress itself was not enough to warrant attention, and takes away from the theme of erasure of identity and self-expression through clothing by casting such loud and prevalent pop culture personalities.

This isn’t just Balenciaga either - the now infamous Schiaparelli SS2023 Couture saw Kylie Jenner wear the same lionhead dress that Irina Shayk walked down the runway in. The technical skill and time taken to create a realistic looking faux Lion head on a (what is supposed to be, as Haute Couture dresses are, one-of-a-kind) dress, its symbolic representation as the sin of Pride within the context of the collection’s inspiration of Dante’s Inferno, is completely overshadowed by the celebrity wearing the same dress in the front row. 

Marc Jacobs’ FW2020 presented the fading dream of New York City through clothing inspired by the many eras of New York City glamor. Each style showed unique textures, color combinations and silhouettes - until Miley Cyrus in Look 66. Aside from Cyrus’ complete lack of connection to New York City, the look could have been removed from the runway and nothing much would have changed - in fact, the collection would probably appear more complete. Which prompts the same question as with Balenciaga and Schiaparelli - what is the point?

There is an obvious answer to that: fashion is commercial and celebrities bring in attention, publicity and money. Nevertheless, fashion is art, and artistic value cannot simply be quantified by revenue. For the aforementioned collections, Celebritism at best detracts from a collection’s cohesion, and at worst directly contradicts the designer’s vision. 

That isn’t to say that celebrities and famous personalities have no place in the presentation of fashion - Hood By Air’s SS2021 campaign for its collection Prologue is a key example. Split into three themes, Mother, Veteran, and Merch, Naomi Campbell features as the center and muse for the first. 

The composition of each image with a wide, flared silhouette for the body, and contrasting lighting of skin against leather creates a triangular outline that emphasizes Campbell’s face as the subject of the photograph. If the theme was unrelated to Campbell, it would cheapen and detract from the brand identity and campaign, relegating it to a simple celebrity brand endorsement. However, Shayne Oliver makes clear that a large part of his collection is inspired by the maternal figures of his life, and that he views Campbell as “such a mother figure to [so many people in fashion] and has always been so outspoken about Black people in fashion, Black identity, and Black creativity.” The choice to highlight Campbell as the subject isn’t a shallow celebrity endorsement. It synchronizes with Oliver’s artistic vision and enhances the presentation of the collection. It’s coherent from both a creative and commercial standpoint.

Another example is the Illusion of Kate Moss at Alexander McQueen’s FW06 show, The Widows of Culloden. Drawing inspiration from Scottish history and the play of Macbeth, McQueen dealt with his identity and past, his definition of femininity and its interaction with his sexuality and the concept of the ‘ideal woman.’ Characterizing models as birds of prey through feather detailing and embroidery, McQueen creates the image of a powerful, animalistic, larger-than-life woman. McQueen references Scottish culture and traditional dress, comparing the historical bloody relationship between Scotland and England to that of women within a patriarchal society. While oppressed, and even in faking passivity, empowerment is retained. 

This culminated into a projection of Kate Moss wearing a white chiffon dress within a glass triangle at the center of the runway.

Kate Moss in an assymetrical ruffled silk organza dress for the finale of McQueen's show. Resembling a bridal gown, McQueen comments on the role of marriage within femininity.

The presentation of the dress as phantasmic and ghostly references McQueen’s inspiration from Shakespeare’s Macbeth and the appearance of the spirit of Banquo, a haunting figure throughout the play. The dress thus serves not only as a metaphor for the death, yet haunting presence of traditional Scotland, but also symbolically that female empowerment cannot be suppressed or killed and will always linger on. 

Alone, the dress and illusion is a powerful tool for McQueen to express himself. But the choice of Kate Moss adds more meaning. Prior to the collection, Moss had been embroiled in scandal with drug use, criticized by many journalists and dropped from contracts. McQueen, viewing this as hypocritical due to the vast majority of the fashion world’s use of drugs presented Moss as both a representation of female empowerment within the dress, and also used it as a form of support, showing that she was larger-than-life, that she would also survive and linger on. Again, Moss’ appearance doesn’t detract from the collection’s themes, but enhances and synchronizes with McQueen’s vision. While Campbell and Moss are models before they are celebrities, Shayne Oliver and Alexander McQueen exemplify appropriate ways in which famous personalities can improve a collection’s presentation. Fashion, more so than other art forms, is much more commercial. However, this doesn’t mean that designers should sacrifice a cohesive aesthetic vision - and the celebritization of fashion is a salient example of such. Celebritization has numerous times enhanced collections. Unfortunately, by and large, it feels like a cheap, tacky way to get sales up.