Everything I know about Hermes
And why the best obsessions need optimism.
Six weeks ago, I had never heard of Hermes.
People find that surprising. I, like most, know of Gucci and Louis Vuitton1 and Chanel and Prada. But for whatever reason, Hermes is a brand that held no real estate within my limited knowledge of the luxury good space.
That is no longer the case.
If you could track the words I’ve used most regularly over the holiday season, Hermes would outrank the names of some of my family members.
I’ve visited a store. I’ve wondered aloud if I need to own an $11,000 suitcase.2 I’ve researched their specific artists.3 I know what a saddle stitch is. I’ve contemplated buying a farm just so I can buy a horse just so I can buy an Hermes saddle.
All of that has coexisted alongside an acute frustration (which I have voiced to more than one person) that Subway used to sell $5 foot longs and now their 6-inch sandwich costs $7.4
I contain multitudes.
My obsession with Hermes, however, comes down to a very simple trait that I think defines a lot of what they do: obsession.
Hermes has become an idea or thought that continually preoccupies or intrudes on my mind.5 Their work—being their product, their marketing, their brand, etc.—gives off the appearance of having been created by people who have excellence or craftsmanship or uniqueness or whimsy or pleasure as their main preoccupying ideas.
They have obsessions. And that is attractive. And contagious. And something that, if you are someone who also has obsessions, even of a different kind, you simply want to be around.
But that is only half of the puzzle. Obsession isn’t unique. And by itself, it isn’t enough to endear someone for a sustained period of time.
The second reason why I think Hermes has stuck with my is from my favorite story about the company’s history…
In 1916, Emile Hermès took a trip to America. On this trip, he met with Henry Ford (as one does) and saw the factory where a Model T rolled off the production line every three minutes.
For someone who owned a family business built on designing products for horses, the oncoming ubiquity of cars was cause for alarm.
Which is exactly how Adolphe, Emile’s brother and Hermes co-owner, reacted when, upon hearing this news, he insisted they remain focused on the equestrian market. Emile felt differently and eventually the two brothers disagreed so much about the future direction that Emile bought out Adolphe in 1919 and took full control of the company.
That is when he turned the focus of Hermes away from harnesses and saddles and toward something else they already knew how to make—bags. A century later and they sell bags that cost more than some Ford cars.
So that worked out.
I like that story because Emile was obsessive and optimistic. The obsession thing, by itself, is interesting but not always in an enduring way. It’s possible to care and think a lot about something while being angry or defensive or difficult and/or eventually, exhausted.
Hermes, for me, has come to represent the idea that you can care a lot about something (be obsessed with it) and find genuine joy in the process of caring.
Adolphe cared about the company and what they made, but he found the future bleak and frustrating. So his obsession became a burden. Emile cared about the company and what they made,6 but he found the future exciting and hopeful. So his obsession became a source of passion.
Obsession is easy. Optimism is hard. Combining both creates magic.
Hermes has this magic. And I want what they’re doing to rub off on me. Which is why one of my goals for 2025 (it’s that time after all) is to purchase for myself a single Hermes product.
Probably not the suitcase though.
Thanks for reading this far.
-jd
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Content
How a Texas Postman Became an Hermes Designer - “He works overnight at the post office, comes home, paints a little bit, takes a nap and then does it all over again.”
Survivor: One World - It’s that time of year where we’re between Survivor seasons so we go back and watch old ones, and this one is like getting in a time machine. The things people said twelve years ago…
Nobody Wants This: Official Playlist - Turns out, one of my favorite shows of the year also has a pretty good soundtrack.
Camera Roll
Two pictures today. First, the suitcase. Second, my favorite item from the store: the “Please touch with your eyes only.” sign.
Question
What’s the most you would spend on a suitcase? And why isn’t it $11,000? And do you have any hot takes on luxury goods? Because I know they’re out there…
If you’ve made it all the way down here, consider forwarding this email to your smartest and funniest friends. But if you have one person in your friend group who is both the smartest and funniest friend, do not forward this to them. They already have enough.
Here, I have to thank Acquired for both introducing me to Hermes and also making me aware that while I thought I knew what Louis Vuitton was, there’s so much more to learn about any successful company in history.
I know I don’t need it, but like…
Kermit Oliver is a US Postal Service worker from Waco, Texas and the only American artist to design Hermes scarves. Somehow, my mother owns a scarf he designed that her mother-in-law bought for her thirty years ago. There are 18 of those scarves in existence and I just so happened to see another one of them hanging in the Adolphus Hotel in Dallas last week. I simultaneously am dying to get in touch with Kermit and have no idea what to ask him.
This is legitimately infuriating.
This is the direct definition of “obsession.”
Small but, I think, significant difference here: each brother had a different definition of “what they made.” Adolphe was obviously more focused (aka obsessed) with the specific equestrian product while Emile was focused (still obsessed) on whatever it was they could make that would meet people’s needs. Again, there’s a slight but fascinating attitude/perspective difference here that ends up making all the difference in the end.