puck.news.com
Twin Peaks
The Row defined the pandemic-adjacent era of TikTok- and ‘Succession’-fueled “quiet luxury.” Now, with the trend moving on and a wholesale strategy that’s reliant on beleaguered department stores, the Olsens are facing their next challenge.
A confluence of factors transformed The Row into the hottest fashion brand of the pandemic: The Olsens’ obsession with refining and modernizing simple concepts—the Teva sandal, the banana-shaped bag, mid-rise jeans—offered consumers a reason to spend at a time when there wasn’t competition. Photo: Sansho Scott/BFA.com
Lauren Sherman
May 12, 2025
Last week, LVMH North America C.E.O.
Anish Melwani made an off-hand comment at Milken, the
very private equity-friendly conference in Los Angeles, about his distaste for the term “quiet luxury”—a phrase that I find deeply unsophisticated and a little pathetic. The descriptor was “pretty annoying,” Melwani confessed, before expressing hope that the moment, instigated by TikTok and
Succession, had passed through the culture.
Melwani, of course, was talking his own book. Even if LVMH-owned cashmere mill Loro Piana benefited handsomely from its if-you-know-you-know placements in
Succession, Melwani needs to sell more bags with logos and
Murakami cherry blossoms—designs that are antithetical to the notion of so-called
quiet luxury. But nevertheless, I’d venture to guess that
Ashley and
Mary-Kate Olsen, the founders of The Row, feel similarly, although I hope they haven’t spent too much time thinking about it. If they did, they might find that they are, in many ways, ground zero for the idea.
As the pandemic set in, The Row seemed particularly exposed. The company had just lost millions of dollars via the liquidation of Barneys New York, and likely millions more when the Neiman Marcus Group, which also owned Bergdorf Goodman, filed for Chapter 11 bankruptcy protection in May 2020. Unlike most of their competitors in Europe, The Row was uniquely reliant on the U.S. market, and U.S. department stores in particular. There were layoffs, and discussions about closing down certain parts of the operation. (I heard about various scenarios that included shutting the just-launched men’s business or paring back to be accessories-only.)
In the end, the Olsens stayed the course, and were rewarded handsomely. While the pandemic wore on, as unspent cash accumulated and many people were tethered to a remote and domestic existence, sales of certain apparel skyrocketed. Fashion brands with soft-clothes programs disproportionately benefited from the boost. And while The Row was selling sweatpants that passed the four-figure mark (the cashmere-cotton blend version currently retails for $1,950), the company saw a bump—a
big one.
A confluence of factors transformed The Row into the hottest fashion brand of the pandemic. The Olsens’ obsession with refining and modernizing simple concepts—the Teva sandal, the banana-shaped bag, mid-rise jeans—offered consumers a reason to spend at a time when there wasn’t competition. Sure, the prices were the sort that you’d hide from your mother (no matter how many boards she served on), but the cost-per-wear of those back-seam sweaters helped justify the purchase.
Meanwhile, the Olsens developed new categories and expanded distribution. The Row’s handbag business also grew as Big Luxury’s designs were growing stale. Brands like The Row and (LVMH-owned) Loewe, which turned out unique designs, became favorites for customers who wanted to signal that they were more sophisticated than the average luxury customer. And then the Margeaux—one of the market’s many riffs on the Hermès Bolide—started selling out. Last fall, by the time that The Row raised capital from Mousse Partners (the
Wertheimer family office), Téthys (the
Bettencourt-Meyers family office), Imaginary Ventures (
Natalie Massenet and
Nick Brown’s venture shop), and Saint Dominique Capital (
Lauren Santo Domingo’s fund) at a $1 billion valuation, the company was on an unprecedented growth trajectory, fueled by handbag sales but also demand in Asia. Overall annual sales were still under $500 million, probably significantly less, but The Row had become a go-to for a certain consumer.
The Row’s growth story, in some ways, was more of a fashion accident—a brand that fought hard not to be the trend, and then became the trend, anyway. And now that trend has passed, as Melwani acknowledged at Milken, and the aesthetic that The Row articulated is on the way out. How will the Olsens, with their unicorn valuation, navigate the change?
The Olsens’ Dilemma
Like many fashion executives, the Olsens are once again facing the realities of the changing market: tariffs and customer fears, yes, but especially department store challenges. The Row, after all, is likely one of the most exposed luxury brands within the Saks Global network. I’m told the team has met directly with Saks C.E.O.
Marc Metrick about the matter and negotiated favorable terms, but they do not operate on a consignment model, which means there’s a risk of losing millions if Saks Global were to default. And it’s not just Saks Global: Other retailers, like Montreal-based Ssense, are facing challenges right now because of tariffs.
However, these are all things that will pass, and The Row has dozens of growth levers to pull. There’s the opportunity in Asia and retail expansion, even though the brand is
so particular about real estate. (Why there isn’t a location in lower Manhattan, for instance, beats me.) But let’s just assume that severely limiting retail is a good long-term choice, one that’s A-OK with The Row’s investors—family offices and a uniquely positioned venture capital firm, all of which appear focused on the long-term potential.
Every brand that benefited from the pandemic-fueled minimalist movement will need to course correct… at least a little. (For a searing evisceration of the look, I encourage you to watch the “Forever 31”
Saturday Night Live skit.) But there is a subset of consumers who will always seek simplicity, even if the definition of “simple” is changing. Right now, nobody wants to wear a sack dress. Perhaps the Olsens’ relocation of much of their process to Paris—the center of the fashion world—will help them adjust while still playing in tune with the culture.
But they do need to change. On a recent trip to Paris, I stopped by the newly refreshed Galeries Lafayette on Boulevard Haussmann to see the just-opened Phoebe Philo shop-in-shop, where I bought a suit.
Philo, her generation’s most influential designer—and the
real reason everyone owns an oatmeal-colored sweater—is developing a new form of minimalism. (Far more experimental, with a much harder edge.) The same week P.P.’s blood-red-carpeted store opened, The Row’s gentler, blonde-wood shop-in-shop turned on the lights just across the aisle. I walked by, admiring a red-and-navy checked shirt, but didn’t even stop to touch it.
)
