A MESSAGE FROM OUR SPONSOR

Last week’s announcement naming Ludivine Poiblanc as artistic director of A.P.C., the French denim brand that helped define the wardrobes of Gen X and Elder Millennials the world over, was at once intriguing and a nonevent. Poiblanc, a renowned stylist and consultant who became something of a street-style star in the era of Old Céline, is just the right kind of polished-but-not-too-polished French woman to add the correct fashion edge to a brand that seemed radical when founder Jean Touitou first rebelled against the industry, in 1987, by selling raw denim in an acid wash world. (Ultimately, like most cool things, it transformed into the epitome of bobo after years of normie adoption.) The truth, though, is that no one really thinks much about A.P.C. anymore—especially if you’re not French.

A MESSAGE FROM OUR SPONSOR

It’s a shame, because at one point, A.P.C. was as important as Levi’s to a generation of urbanites who wanted to look cool without trying. When I first moved to New York, during the summer of 2001, the newly wealthy city was awash in the horror of Seven for All Mankind swirls on the rear—a sign that the Neanderthals from Long Island and New Jersey had invaded Wall Street and were trying to remake Bloomberg-era Manhattan in their image. But I favored the look—then growing out of the music and art scene in Williamsburg (long before it looked like Denver)—of A.P.C. jeans and Clarks Wallabees.

You weren’t supposed to wash A.P.C. jeans, but instead put them in the freezer if they started to smell funny. Or run into the ocean and let the salt water do the work. Perhaps the greatest testament to Touitou’s marketing prowess is that people actually did this. Eventually, he started selling preworn jeans, which evolved into the Butler program: Those who donated a pair would receive a 50 percent discount on their next raw denim purchase. In Lost in Translation, a 2003 time capsule that still holds up, Scarlett Johansson’s whole damn wardrobe was A.P.C. (Other than the Araks underwear, of course.) The brand may not have created the French preppy uniform of a navy sweater, raw denim jeans, and white sneakers, but it sure reinforced it.

Over the years, Touitou and his artistic-director wife, Judith, built the business with a sort of anti-conglomerate ethos. They would stage small presentations in their Left Bank showroom, where Touitou would philosophize about the state of fashion. (Once, at the height of the designer handbag craze, he handed out cheap leather dust bags, gold-foiled with the word “douche.”) There were collaborations with the truly famous (Kanye) and less so (Vanessa Seward). Remember the Jessica Ogden quilts? Or the “post-poo drops” made with Aesop? A.P.C. perpetuated French girl style stereotypes while turning its nose up at such a reductive concept.

While the brand felt inescapable at times, it also wasn’t a surprise when the Touitous sold a majority stake to LVMH-adjacent private equity firm L Catterton in 2023. After 30 years, the business was still generating in the vicinity of $100 million in annual revenue. The Touitous had never attempted to blitz-scale in order to attract a potential buyer. Instead, they bragged about their company culture—establishing working hours suited to people with kids, rather than the 11 a.m.-to-midnight preferred by many of the big fashion houses. They offered an anti-fashion stance on fashion, and had ridden it all the way to generational wealth—a seemingly only-in-America story set in France.

Selling out comes with its own trade-offs: not just loss of control, but also submission to the primacy of investor returns above all else. But there’s no guarantee that new ownership will deliver higher growth, either. In fact, L Catterton management has struggled to figure out how to scale A.P.C. without spending down its cultural equity. The brand’s handbags are still ubiquitous on the Paris metro, but A.P.C. has felt terribly lifeless since the Touitous took a step back. Meanwhile, cheesier, more commercially minded French brands like Sézane and Soeur have capitalized on the easy-to-digest concept of French girl style while savvier consumers started thrifting Levi’s—or, sometimes, old A.P.C.s—rather than stopping by one of their shops for a pair of fresh Petit Standards.

In France, sales have been on the decline in the three years since the business was bought by L Catterton—from €91 million in 2022 to €85 million just a year later. The most recent public filing lists 2024 revenue at €74 million. To be fair, like many figures filed in a public court by a private company, these only represent revenues generated in France, so they don’t account for potential growth in other regions. (Fun fact: The shop in Silver Lake on the Eastside of Los Angeles is the least productive A.P.C. store in the world, according to people who work there. A source close to the company said that all the underperforming stores have been closed, so it must be doing okay.)

The Touitous, who have settled into a post-A.P.C. life—Jean making wine and staging impromptu music gigs; Judith acting as art curator—are allegedly not entirely happy with how it’s been going. And not only because the thing that made A.P.C. so special has been flattened by private equity. The Touitous also remain shareholders in the business, with a more than 20 percent stake. Even artists and designers—especially artists and designers—come to love money once they’ve made some, and they still care about the company.

L Catterton, which manages $40 billion in assets, is in a similar pickle with many of its apparel investments, from Ganni to Everlane. In the end, few of these businesses were as easy to scale as anticipated. Also, as the industry works through a collective belt-tightening and correction, there simply aren’t many acquirers in the market—especially those willing to buy a dip. Which strategic group would want a company like A.P.C. at this point? EssilorLuxottica seems to be doing a good job managing Supreme, a brand with a small retail footprint and huge licensing opportunity. But Supreme is a tighter business, and A.P.C. might be beyond its core and lucrative strengths.

In December 2025, L Catterton installed one of its operating partners, the former Farfetch executive Stephanie Phair, as A.P.C.’s president. While there is speculation that Phair is only a transitional leader—typically, a new executive would be brought in to manage a turnaround—she recruited and hired Poiblanc, who has been heralded as the “savior” of A.P.C. by some in the French press. Of course, Touitou, who is still pretty involved in the business, is friendly with Poiblanc, and also respects her. The consummate straight shooter, I doubt Touitou would have bothered offering a quote in the press release—and such a kind one at that—if he didn’t actually support the decision to bring her on.

In order for L Catterton to sell A.P.C. to someone other than A.B.G., they are going to have to ensure the Touitous have some input on strategy. As French as the Touitous may be, they are still founders, and founder-led businesses only work post-acquisition if the people running them understand how to scale that specialness that allowed them to break through in the first place. There’s nothing cool about A.P.C. anymore—but it can still be good. After all, raw denim is back.

Over the years, there have been different television shows and films in the works about Alexander McQueen and Isabella Blow (and their friendship). Now Andrew Haigh, the director of one of my favorite films, All of Us Strangers, is in production with Wild Bird, a short film starring Russell Tovey as McQueen and Olivia Colman as Blow. Interestingly, it was paid for by WeTransfer via its “arts platform,” WePresent. [Inbox]

Sports Direct founder Mike Ashley, better known in our world as the founder of Matches Fashion-killer Frasers Group, has admitted that he orchestrated the downfall of his rival, JD Sports head Peter Cowgill. It’s a wild interview. [Financial Times]

Lacoste did a rebrand. I don’t mind it? [Instagram]

Sherri McMullen is set to open a new flagship store on Maiden Lane in San Francisco this fall. It’ll be 6,342 square feet, two floors, and designed by Gabriella Khalil. Congrats to her. [Inbox]

Keith McNally won the Gotham Book Prize. [New York Times]

Chloë Sevigny is the best. [The Good Buy]

Paul Smith has a new boss. [WWD]

Sounds like we are not going to get to see all the texts Richard Baker sent to Marc Metrick while they were running Saks Global. (Which, as you may remember, is suing Puck over our coverage of its debt management.) [WWD]

Until tomorrow,
Lauren

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