The case for luxury

• Last Updated: November 18. 2009 4:12PM UAE / November 18. 2009 12:12PM GMT

As Louis Vuitton opens its first Middle East ‘global’ store in Dubai, Katie Trotter talks to Patrick Vuitton, the eccentric director of the venerable French label’s Special Orders division, and looks inside the family home where the rich and famous flock for bespoke leather goods.



Much has been written about the success of Louis Vuitton and its phenomenal effect on the fashion industry, but that is not why I’m here in the Vuitton family home in Asnières on the outskirts of Paris. I am here to find out more about the company’s Special Orders division, located inside the property and where the rich and famous come to commission their dream, bespoke piece of Louis Vuitton. Within this elite section of the luxury brand, customer confidentiality is, as you’d expect, strict company policy. But earlier this month, at a charity auction at Sotheby’s in London, we had a rare glimpse at what enough money could buy you: an LV camera case (created for Annie Leibovitz), an LV knife carrier (Ferran Adrià) or even an LV butterfly armoire (Damien Hirst).

Despite the recent economic stagnation, it seems our fascination for luxury remains intact. In fact, our spending trends reveal that although we may be buying less, what we do buy has to be special, a “luxury purchase”. The “LV” logo is two simple unassuming letters that, when placed beside each other, have become one of the most iconic and coveted brands of the century. And, when it comes to custom-made Louis Vuitton, things get really exciting. This is the realm where customers’ imaginations reign and where the skills of the label’s craftsmen are given their fullest expression.

Louis Vuitton was born in 1821 to a joiner’s family in the small village of Anchay in Franche-Comté, in eastern France. At the age of 14, in search of work, he walked to Paris, a distance of more than 400 kilometres. Along the way he took on numerous odd jobs, one of which was trunk maker to Empress Eugenie de Montijo, the wife of Napoleon III. By 1859, he had his own line of luggage and moved the workshop he had established in central Paris to the then quiet, rural town of Asnières, later to be made famous by the Impressionist school of painters. It was a well-considered move. Asnières’ location between the River Seine – where the wood used for the trunks came in by barge from the nearby Oise valley – and a direct rail route to Paris was the ideal spot and, by 1878, Louis and his wife Emilie had settled permanently in Asnières, building two houses in the surrounding gardens.

After Vuitton’s death in 1892, his son George moved into the house where I am now having coffee, and aside from a few repair jobs here and there, it remains remarkably untouched. Admiring the family portraits hung around the vast art nouveau drawing room, I’m told that Patrick Louis Vuitton, who represents the family in its fifth generation and is the director of special orders, is on his way. His well-manicured Parisian assistant, who seemed a rather soothing character, is now, let’s just say, anything but. She is worried because Monsieur Vuitton may be in one of his “odd moods” this morning. Giving me the once-over, she informs me (rather curtly) that I am not to ask him anything in English because he quite simply won’t answer. Since I don’t speak a word of French aside from Ou habites tu?, this doesn’t look promising.

When he arrives, Patrick Vuitton looks fantastically eccentric. A pipe dangling from his lips and with the most remarkable blue suede shoes poking out from the bottom of his bright blue Vuitton suit, he resembles a character from TinTin. He pauses for at least a minute while I wait patiently for him to relight his pipe, stares for a while, then walks straight past me excitedly flapping his sketch of what looks like a design for a new desk. I later learn not to be offended and that this is all part of his capricious charm.

Born in 1951, Patrick had little choice but to get involved in the family business, as he himself admits (with the aid of a translator). He wanted to be a veterinarian, but, in 1973, encouraged by his mother, he joined the Asnières factory as an apprentice. “I grew up in the house next door to the workshop,” he tells me. “The whole family lived in the area at that time. As a young child, I was already playing in the yard, in the workshop and in my father’s office; I was always around the craft of layetier-emballeur (the art of packing). Already at a very young age I was ‘in training’.”

We walk into the workshop, which he tells me is undoubtably the heart of Louis Vuitton, and for more than a century was the company’s core production site. Remarkably, today it is still the location where an elite staff of 30 hand-produce the 450 special orders a year that are all personally overseen by Patrick.

“I meet with every one of the clients to listen to their requirements” he says. “After a great deal of discussion I propose a design of how I envisage their piece to be. This discussion continues throughout the whole process from the technical design aspects to the selection of the finishings.”

There are two things that make Asnières unlike any factory I have ever been in. Firstly, it is immaculate, down to the pristine LV branded overalls worn by the artisans, and secondly, it is strikingly silent (which I later realise is due to the lack of machines: nearly all of production in the factory is done by hand).

There is order in every corner. Labelled boxes are stacked perfectly on library-style shelves, while leather goods are neatly laid out in an area with controlled temperature and humidity. Each hide, whether calf, goat, python or alligator is scrutinised for imperfections.

Each piece is a painstaking operation, worked on from start to finish by the same craftsman. “Each artisan has been trained in-house,” Vuitton explains. “This is what we call the transmission of know-how. A newcomer trains for several years alongside an experienced craftsman – it is important for us to keep the skills and know-how alive. This is the way that we have been doing it for over 155 years, and how we continue the tradition.”

Although the working environment has evolved, most of the tools and techniques used at Asnières remain virtually unchanged. I watch as the brass lock on a hard trunk is finally fitted, and learn that the same lock invented by George Vuitton (Louis’ son) in 1890 is still used today.

To my right, a craftsman is hand-stitching an object that I can’t quite make out – it’s a hard-cased box with a cage-like detail at one end. I’m later told it has been commissioned for (hush-hush) Marc Jacobs’ dog. I wonder if creating these dream custom-made pieces is just another way to stir up celebrity publicity? Patrick says not, and relays the words of his great-grandfather, George Vuitton, “The main thing is to allow your personal effects to travel in the greatest personal comfort.”

Of course, the custom-made contract, signed by both Louis Vuitton and the customer, promises confidentiality, and believe me the staff are immovable on this. I do, however, get a little taste of some of the more eccentric requests they have had over the years.

There’s the Saudi prince who ordered a travel case to protect his shisha, a wealthy Japanese customer who once ordered a cushioned case to carry a cake for a special birthday party, and the eccentric well-known English businessman who ordered a small trunk for none other than the rubber duck he travels with. Then there are the celebrity purchases: Sofia Coppola ordered a customised case for her Bose speakers, and Karl Lagerfeld recently ordered a trunk to carry 40 iPods made of black Taiga leather with trademark brass fittings and a red interior. There was also the custom made calligraphy case that was sold via silent auction for the benefit of the UAE Association for Down syndrome, that was so well received that a further two have been made in the monogram canvas and will be available from December.

There are certain traditions and values that Louis Vuitton sticks to when creating a trunk, and I ask if there are any requests that Vuitton has refused to make.

“It has happened that I had to refuse [more modify than refuse, actually] a request for two reasons: a trunk always has to have two handles on it. If it doesn’t we deem it to be a piece of furniture. Second, a trunk cannot be too heavy as to be carried by two men. It needs to be able to travel, and if it is too heavy, it cannot travel.”

There is something deeply personal about a purchase made solely for oneself, something that Patrick understands well. “Being able to bring a piece of you from home, well that is a true luxury for me.”

You see, there is a whole lot more to these two letters, because what custom made Louis Vuitton offers its client is an instant membership into a highly recognisable “luxury club”. And while, to some, it may not amount to more than just a little stamp on their luggage, there is no doubt that the respect and craftsmanship that goes into every special-order piece is very real, and in every way out-hypes the hype.