That rare moment when clothing becomes an art object.
Back in the early 2000s, it was a risky move - even with the rebellious streak of the ’80s and ’90s behind us. Only true avant-gardists would dare such a leap. Louis Vuitton, at the time, was still very much a symbol of classic luxury: conservative, heritage-rich, and resistant to sudden change.
But everything shifted in 1998, when Marc Jacobs took the reins. Young, American, and unburdened by French tradition, he rebooted the brand from the inside out. And he started with something unexpected - art.
2001. Stephen Sprouse: Graffiti as Manifesto
Stephen Sprouse wasn’t your typical artist. He came from the underground - punk, New York grit, street culture. Marc Jacobs handed him the sacred canvas: the LV monogram. And Sprouse did the unthinkable - he spray-painted over it. Neon scrawls of “Louis Vuitton” turned the classic pattern into something raw and chaotic.
Those first graffiti bags looked almost sacrilegious. But that’s what made them powerful. Suddenly, luxury wasn’t untouchable - it was loud, messy, alive. In 2009, after Sprouse’s death, Jacobs reissued the collection in tribute. A testament to how radical ideas can become legacy.
2003. Takashi Murakami: Monogram Goes Technicolor
If Sprouse made Vuitton punk, Murakami made it playful. In 2003, the Japanese artist, known for his anime-inspired “superflat” aesthetic, introduced the Multicolore Monogram: 33 bright hues printed on white or black canvas.
LV bags suddenly looked like candy. It was a revolution - the once-serious icon of luxury had learned to smile. Over the following years, Murakami added sakura blossoms, wide-eyed cartoon creatures, and even directed a short anime for Louis Vuitton. The collaboration lasted over a decade, reshaping the very notion of what fashion could be.
The Multicolore line became the It-bag of the 2000s - spotted on Paris Hilton, Jessica Simpson, and every tabloid cover. It introduced the idea of “fun luxury,” paving the way for fashion to flirt openly with pop culture.
2012. Yayoi Kusama: Infinity in a Dot
Another voice from Japan, but with a very different energy. Yayoi Kusama’s art is obsessive, meditative, and deeply personal. Her polka dots - repeated endlessly - reflect both her mental state and her view of the cosmos.
In 2012, Jacobs brought Kusama on board, and soon LV bags were covered in bold, rhythmic dots: red, white, yellow, black. It wasn’t just a collection - it was a traveling installation. Even LV store windows became part of the experience, transformed into dotted dreamscapes.
Ten years later, in 2022, the collaboration returned - this time bigger and bolder. Under Nicolas Ghesquière, the dots became 3D, metallic, technically intricate. In Paris, a life-sized animatronic of Kusama painted in a window. This wasn’t just fashion - it was a tribute. A bridge between design, time, and obsession.
2017. Jeff Koons: A Museum in Your Hand
Koons didn’t create new art for Louis Vuitton - he borrowed from the greats. In the Masters Collection, he printed works by Da Vinci, Titian, Rubens, Van Gogh, and Fragonard directly onto bags.
It was wearable art in the most literal sense. Alongside each painting, the artist’s name appeared in gold block letters. The cherry on top? A shiny balloon dog keychain - Koons’ kitsch signature.
The collection sparked controversy. For some, it was a glorious homage. For others - pure commercialism. But that tension is Koons’ signature: blurring high and low, sacred and superficial. Asking: if Mona Lisa is on a handbag, is she still a masterpiece?
When Marc Jacobs left Louis Vuitton in 2013, he didn’t just leave behind collections - he left a blueprint.
One where fashion is not just commerce or trend, but a medium. A gallery of collaborations, contradictions, and cultural dialogue.
Louis Vuitton is no longer just luggage or handbags. It’s a portable exhibition. A conversation starter. A canvas that moves.
