Imagine you’re in high school. Not the usual awkward teenage one, but the kind whose principal is Anna Wintour and where everyone has a stylist, the cafeteria serves oat milk lattes, and your economics teacher used to work at LVMH. Cliques are real. The personalities? Even more so.
From the cardigan wrapped mystery girl in the literature club to the theatrical flirt rehearsing his next monologue in the auditorium, luxury brands personalities, if you look closely, aren’t all that different from the kids we once went to school with.
They just walk in much more expensive shoes.
She sits by the window in English class. Wears ballet flats with scuffed toes, oversized knits, layered shirts, mismatched socks. Her hair’s always a little undone, but it works. Quiet in class, adored by teachers, member of the literary club, collector of vintage keychains. Girls want to sit with her. Boys don’t get her. And that’s the point. That’s Miu Miu. Whimsical. Bookish. Brilliant in a way you only notice if you look closely.
Which is why it made zero sense when she showed up with Kylie Jenner. Full face. Fresh blowout. Fully branded. It felt like someone cast the wrong lead. Kylie doesn’t feel like part of her world in the campaign and it shows. It wasn’t bad. It just wasn’t her. Funny, because her Acne Studios campaign? Chef’s kiss. That one got her.
You hear him before you see him. Dolce & Gabbana, across the hall, rehearsing for the school play. Dramatic. Loud. Flirtatious. Theatrical. He kisses cheeks at morning roll call. Wears sunglasses indoors. Smells like spice and ego. Cologne that lingers long after he’s gone. Shirts unbuttoned to the third. Big Italian gestures. Bigger opinions. Says things like “bellissima” with full eye contact. Tells every girl she looks like Sophia Loren.
It’s all a bit much until the spotlight hits him just right.
The drama makes sense.
You roll your eyes… and clap anyway.
Chanel sits up front. Obviously. Perfect GPA. Principal’s favorite. The only one who gets away with heels and still calls it uniform. Signs her name in cursive. Never says “um.” Always perfectly dressed with pearls, ribbons, a blowout that lasts all week. Everything crisp and classic. Her closet smells like Paris and No. 5. She doesn’t need to try. She is the standard. Daddy’s money. Mother’s manners. She’s intimidating until she compliments your shoes. Then you think about it for the rest of the year. And yes, she probably dated Saint Laurent. Briefly.
Saint Laurent smokes under the bleachers and turns in essays that read like art. Wears all black, crisp fitted blazers. Refuses group work. Doesn’t do small talk. Sharp jawline, sharper cheekbones. You think he’s arrogant. Maybe he is. But when he looks at you, everyone else fades. You don’t know if you want to be him or date him. Maybe both. He doesn’t do mystery. He is mystery.
Loro Piana is the quiet class president. Always in cashmere, always on time. He doesn’t shout in the hallways, but when he walks by, people notice. Whispers wealth. Soft greys, navy, shoes that never scuff. He doesn’t speak much, but when he does, people listen. He is the epitome of soft power.
But lately… people have started asking who’s really doing his homework. n July 2025, a Milan court placed Loro Piana under judicial administration. Chinese-run workshops. Migrant labor. €4/hour. 90-hour weeks. To make €3,000 coats. If the class president is bending the rules, what’s everyone else getting away with?
Balenciaga is always in detention. Probably filming it. Submits essays as memes. They wear trench coats made of caution tape. Monday with Kim K, Wednesday with Kristen Stewart, Friday with Cardi B. Pure chaos. Doesn’t want your approval. Wants your attention and gets it. Grandpa was a legend, but this era? Pure rebellion.
Louis Vuitton isn’t one person, it’s a group. The popular table. Always center of attention, always flying somewhere. They sit at the biggest table in the cafeteria but keep pulling up more chairs. They’ve gone from trunks to dog houses, yoga mats. They’re not speaking to someone, they’re trying to speak to everyone. And that’s a tricky tone to master. Once the cool kid everyone wanted to be, now they’re everyone’s roommate.
Ever thought of fashion brands this way?
Did you spot these characters roaming your own high school hallways?
Or maybe… they live in your closet now.
Who do you wear?
Who do you see yourself in?
That’s just one side of the hallway.
We haven’t even gotten to the barefoot golden boy, the class clown in couture, or the flirt who turns every corridor into a runway.
In Part II, we meet the ones who break the dress code and still get away with it.
See you next period.
Noir et Blanc 