Experiential luxury: are houses getting their flagships wrong?

South Korea did not invent experiential retail, but it has taken it further than most markets, and in doing so has changed what a luxury purchase means. In Seoul, Gentle Monster’s Haus Nowhere places its eyewear among monumental installations that visitors come to see as much as to shop, and the step from visit to purchase remains a small one, since a pair of sunglasses is within reach for most of them. Asian consumers, accustomed to these formats earlier than elsewhere, now hold particularly high expectations, and luxury houses also compete with travel: according to Bain, spending on personal luxury goods fell by 1 to 3% worldwide in 2024, while spending on experiential luxury, from hotels to fine dining, rose by 5%.

When Louis Vuitton opened The Louis in Shanghai in 2025, a local resident interviewed by Reuters doubted it would lead her to buy anything beyond coffee and cake, and said she had redirected her luxury spending towards travel.

In a 2026 survey by Agility Research, 70% of luxury executives named experiential luxury as the leading trend in the sector, but no house has published evidence that these formats drive sales. Meanwhile, several houses are closing stores, particularly in China, where Chanel, Louis Vuitton and Prada have reduced their networks since 2024.

Since fashion now competes with the experiences offered by luxury travel, houses could turn to another form of experience, closer to the aspirations of Gen Z. This generation is open to redefining luxury and readily appropriates icons and symbols. Research by Carlos Diaz Ruiz and Angela Gracia B. Cruz on young Chinese consumers shows a growing appetite for unexpected collaborations, from luxury pieces linked to video games or cartoon characters to virtual items worn inside games, valued for their playful and ephemeral character and as a way to express belonging to a cultural community.

While some houses have supported local creators over the long term (through craft prizes, galleries or residencies), these initiatives remain isolated and institutional. Young consumers are looking for something closer to their daily lives: experiences that take place in their neighbourhoods and on their platforms, in which they can take part, and which leave room for their own way of reading a house and its symbols.

In its early years, for instance, Vetements moved freely between the street and luxury, and its legitimacy came from the fact that its designers spoke from the cultures they drew on. For a European house in Asia, this means working with those who belong to these scenes instead of borrowing their aesthetic, for example by showing a collection in a neighbourhood venue that matters to the local scene, or by casting people met in the city. The choice of ambassadors can follow the same logic, favouring figures recognised within local cultural circles, such as the Japanese rapper Awich, over celebrities chosen mainly for the size of their fan base, which might bring visibility but not necessarily cultural credibility.

Some concerns of this generation are also shared well beyond national borders, such as uncertainty about the future or the wish for objects that carry meaning. A house can take them as a starting point and let creative scenes from Seoul to Bangkok respond in their idiom, in dialogue with each other, staying within the register of creation, chic and avant-garde, without turning into a political platform.