INTRODUCING JANE'S LAW
Let us quickly posit a new mimetic maxim, Jane's Law.
Jane's Law is inspired by Godwin's Law, an internet adage that goes like this: "As an online discussion grows longer, the probability of a comparison involving Nazis or Hitler approaches one."
Jane's Law riffs on this canonical definition. "As a discussion of luxury grows longer, the probability of a focus on the Hermès Birkin bag approaches one."
In the same way that Nazis represent a real yet cartoonishly extreme form of evil, the Hermès Birkin bag represents a cartoonishly high brand premium. The Birkin is the ultimate luxury good, the bag for which people go the most extreme lengths. For this reason, attempts to copy, falsify, damage or change the Birkin are some of the most charged moments in the cultural negotiation of luxury. The Birkin perfectly exemplifies Girard's mimetic desire – we want it not for its intrinsic value but because others want it, and want it the most. Its waitlists and limited availability are the ultimate example of intentional scarcity, transforming desire into a self-perpetuating cycle. Following this, the Birkin has come to stand in for the whole concept of luxury, and in our view, inevitably becomes the center of any luxury-related conversation.
Jane’s Law has been at play this week for two reasons. For one, Hermès overtook LVMH’s market cap, causing some to proclaim the victory of quality and authenticity over whatever it is LVMH represents. (There is some irony here, as LVMH did try to buy Hermès once upon a time.) We remember sitting in the research room at Louis Vuitton with our old friend Virgil, who explained that Mr. Arnault described LVMH as a form of Kintsugi – the Japanese practice of golden repair – for broken companies. Perhaps that repair is not so golden at the moment.
The other reason the Birkin is top of mind has to do with the American-Chinese trade war, specifically Chinese manufacturers’ response to Trump’s tariffs on Tiktok, where they are urging American consumers to buy their items straight from the source. This is a new kind of direct-to-consumer deal – one that cuts out the middleman and offers consumers direct access to many of their favorite goods, without the price premium that comes from a name brand or retailer. (Some of these viral posts are provocatively political besides offering sweet deals.)
Leggings, clogs, and laundry pods are at play – as are special consumer trips where regular people can act as agents for their friends – but the luxury bags are getting the most attention. A great deal of luxury handbags are made in their majority in China, and then finished in European countries, a loophole that avoids a "Made in China" stamp. In addition to this, the markups on luxury bags have hypertrophied in recent years, as has the concept of luxury handbags as an "investment" – and it seems both of these things are at peril at the moment, possibly for the better. Though the Birkin is not made in China, some videos provocatively suggest that it is, or could be, which is both marketing and Jane’s Law in action.
Brands are a form of soft power, something that is at play on both sides of this trade war – both in the form of markups on made in China goods as well as the Tiktok narratives trying to unravel those markups. It seems we are entering a rebalancing of global soft power, in which it will be very interesting to see how brands (and brand equity) fare. Every brand will now have to ask themselves how much their “story” or brand equity is actually worth in a world where the products can now easily be bought without that expensive tale.
Consumers seem to be both more luxury obsessed than ever – and equally as prone to questioning the value of luxury markups. How long can this doublemindedness sustain itself? Take, for example, the Row – another brand that approaches the rarified air of Jane’s Law (but does not reach it, or else it would not be a law!). Their recent jelly flats had an extraordinary brand markup, and could easily be purchased in nearly identical form on Amazon, which created a confusing (and very contemporary) customer journey. Did the real rich person buy the $890 flats? Or was that the nouveau riche move, and if you were really rich (and thus cheap) you would just get the Amazon ones? The frisson of this question seems to be a feature, not a bug, of the Row’s marketing, as they recently released $690 flip flops that look like they come from CVS. Is this trolling, Demna-style? Or something else?
The question of the correct customer journey through luxury has us talking about one of our favorite pieces of brand lore, from the Bling Ring. “These kids went on shopping sprees...It’s like they went shopping online,” one of their lawyers said. “They’d look at a picture on some website of a celebrity holding a Marc Jacobs bag, and they’d say, instead of going to a Marc Jacobs’ store and getting a bag like that, I want that bag that Lindsay is carrying—I want Lindsay’s Marc Jacobs bag.” And then they'd go to her house, break in, and get that exact bag.
There's a connection here. Consumers are supposed to desperately covet luxury handbags, and to care about them because of "their quality," but also to specifically care that they get them the right way, through the right channels, from the right brands, with the right actions. Even if they can see the inflation, distortion, and breakdown of those things right before their eyes.
Meanwhile, at Nemesis HQ, we are asking ourselves a few questions. For one, what is the right way for extreme luxury desire to express itself? Will Jane’s Law ever break down? And is this just dupe culture, or the sign of a new world order? Perhaps we're witnessing not just the end of traditional luxury markup models, but the birth of a new form of status – one where the ability to navigate the entire supply chain finally becomes more valuable than the objects themselves.