Is corporate pressure making luxury labels lose its soul to sales targets?

There was a time when legacy in fashion meant something enduring: Slow-burning, deliberate, and deeply rooted in a brand’s identity. Creative directors were entrusted with more than just seasonal collections; they were the stewards of history, shaping a house’s language over years, even decades. Each collection wasn’t merely a product, but a carefully constructed chapter in an evolving narrative of artistry and innovation.

Today, the pace has changed—drastically.

Even the most historic maisons now operate on corporate clockwork, driven less by precision and more by content. The fashion calendar has always moved quickly, but now, the rhythm isn’t just dictated by seasons or fashion weeks. It’s dictated by TikTok trends, Instagram buzz, shareholder meetings, and the ever-refreshing homepage of Net-a-Porter.

Creative directors, once given time to evolve a vision, now face what is called the ‘three-season cliff’. Taking a note of the industry standards, the average tenure of a creative director at a major fashion house has dropped to under three years. At brands like Burberry, Givenchy, and Lanvin, leadership has changed every 24-30 months, barely enough time to sketch a through line, let alone shape a new language.

Why the acceleration? The answer lies in a collision between two imperatives: The patience of legacy and the impatience of digital virality.

In the past, storytelling in fashion was slow. Think Alexander McQueen’s otherworldly runways or Martin Margiela’s conceptual deconstruction. Today, fashion must perform, not just on the runway, but on reels, in memes, and across online shopping carts. A collection must be immediately ‘clickable’, shareable, and shoppable!

If you ask me, the challenge now isn’t just to create, but to trend. A moment that doesn’t go viral is often seen as a missed opportunity, regardless of its craft or intent.

Platforms like TikTok have collapsed the life cycle of a collection. ‘What’s new’ on Monday is passé by Thursday. And younger consumers, particularly Gen Z, are quick to notice when heritage brands pander instead of lead. This generation, fluent in irony and allergic to inauthenticity, wants to feel something. Consistency, story, and ethos—these are their currencies of trust.

But legacy brands caught in the content churn often struggle to maintain coherence. Frequent creative reshuffles can create disjointed narratives, where collections feel less like chapters and more like disconnected posts.

This isn’t to say that commerce and creativity must exist in conflict. Some brands are proving otherwise.

Loewe under Jonathan Anderson is often cited as a case study in modern luxury done right—where sculptural experimentation meets strong product strategy. Dior, which was led by Maria Grazia Chiuri, has managed to craft feminist storytelling that aligns with both sales and soul. Even smaller houses like The Row have built cult loyalty by saying no to speed, releasing collections quietly, off-cycle, rooted in silhouette and restraint.

But such cases are the exception, not the rule.

Financial data shows the stakes. In a 2022 McKinsey & Company report, fashion brands that had more than two creative leadership changes within five years saw brand valuation dip by an average of nine per cent. Meanwhile, those who retained consistent design direction for over five years recorded growth in both revenue and consumer trust indexes, think of Véronique Nichanian for Hermés.

Perhaps what’s needed now is a return to confidence. Confidence in long-term vision, in storytelling that isn’t driven by algorithms, and in trusting designers to build over time.

We’ve seen this confidence in the recent debut collections of Haider Ackermann at Tom Ford and Julian Klausner at Dries Van Noten. Both designers offered thoughtful, measured entries into storied houses, not rewriting legacy, but conversing with it. Critics praised their restraint, emotional calibration, and above all, their respect for what came before.

A part of the solution lies in restructuring, not just of timeline, but of power. Instead of one creative director tasked with both vision and commerce, a dual leadership model, as previously seen at Balenciaga and Gucci, can allow space for creativity without burdening it with numbers.

In the end, the soul of luxury might not be found in its ability to adapt, but in its ability to endure, with clarity, conviction, and with courage to slow down. Because while trends are temporary, trust is timeless.

All images: Getty Images

This article originally appeared in the Harper's Bazaar India June-July print edition.

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