The latest results from Louis Vuitton owner LVMH show that luxury shoppers are sobering up after years of heavy spending
3 min
The end of easy money is catching up with luxury brands. It took a long time, so the skills needed to protect their profit margins may be a bit rusty.
Shares in the world’s biggest luxury company, LVMH Moët Hennessy Louis Vuitton, fell 6% Wednesday after it reported a slowdown in sales for the third quarter the previous evening. LVMH grew sales by 9% for the three months through September compared with a year ago. That sounds impressive, but the business was growing at almost double this pace in the second quarter.
Demand for luxury goods has slowed for most products and in all major regions. One surprise was a 14% drop in sales at LVMH’s wines and spirits divisions. Shipments of cognac brands such as Hennessy have been weak in the U.S. all year as cash from pandemic stimulus checks runs out, but the trend is getting worse.
The slowdown is no longer limited to “aspirational” shoppers, as the industry lingo frames less wealthy buyers. Sales of LVMH’s expensive watch and jewellery brands were weaker than analysts expected. And wealthy European consumers who were spending freely on luxury goods early this summer turned cautious in the third quarter.
Investors knew that a slowdown was coming, but not how big it would be. After Wednesday’s share-price drop, LVMH has lost a quarter of its market value in roughly six months. The slump may be more severe at weaker rivals like Burberry or Gucci owner Kering, whose stocks also fell Wednesday. Recently, the entire luxury industry has fallen out of fashion with shareholders, who at the start of the year expected a bigger surge in Chinese demand after the country lifted all pandemic restrictions.
With business probably as good as it can get in China, there is no obvious place the industry can turn to for new growth. Weaker demand for luxury goods will damp brands’ ability to raise prices. Last year, exceptionally strong sales helped them lift prices by 8% on average, according to UBS estimates. This pricing power has been a big draw for investors, and boosted profit margins, but it is probably over for now. In the four years leading up to the pandemic, prices rose only 1.2% annually on average.
Luxury companies face a balancing act with their multibillion-dollar advertising budgets and store-rollout plans. They may need to save cash to protect margins. At the same time, they must continue to spend on advertising to maintain their trademark desirability.
Some perspective is necessary, though: Today, LVMH’s fashion-and-leather-goods division, its main profit driver, is 80% larger than it was in the third quarter of 2019, before the pandemic. The industry has had an amazing run and is expected to grow in 2024. Still, some of the sheen that made it particularly attractive to investors in recent years has faded.
Last month, LVMH was even dethroned as Europe’s most valuable company by Novo Nordisk, the Danish pharmaceutical company behind weight-loss drug Ozempic. Leaner times ahead.
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AI doesn’t rebel—people design, deploy and profit from it. The real danger lies in allowing tech companies to escape accountability while shaping regulations that protect their dominance.
4 min
A wave of corporate warnings and technical disclosures has flooded the media, with headlines worrying over “swarms” of rogue artificial-intelligence agents launching “unprecedented” cyberattacks, outsmarting their makers, and inching toward a terrifying autonomy. The most revealing part of this narrative isn’t what the software did. It’s who is telling the story—and why. When corporate leaders publicly insist that the systems they financed, engineered and deployed are suddenly beyond their power to contain, skepticism isn’t only healthy; it is essential.
For years, Silicon Valley has drawn scrutiny from civil society and global regulators over tangible harms such as youth mental health deterioration and systematic privacy violations. Today, industry figures seem to be trying to change that public image. Loudly blowing the whistle on their own systems—just as two of the leading companies were preparing for massive initial public offerings—lets AI executives position themselves as a new generation of leaders who have come to terms with their societal responsibilities. They seem to want us to believe that they no longer want to “move fast and break things” but will instead stand as vigilant guardians between humanity and a technological apocalypse.
There is one glaring problem: Software doesn’t rebel. A mathematical model possesses neither intent, malice nor the will to defy its creators, let alone extinguish our species. AI is a human artifact, engineered for profit.
When an agentic model in an evaluation sandbox connects to an unauthorized server or executes an exploit, it hasn’t staged a coup. It has tried to meet the human-defined objectives set out before it through a path its designers failed to constrain. It’s the digital equivalent of the King Midas myth, in which the king’s ill-defined wish turns even his food and drink into gold.
That powerful experimental models were able to discover novel vulnerabilities and breach external systems isn’t a sign of a dangerous superintelligence but of human error or negligence. There is no sentient actor lurking in the weights to be reasoned with, feared or pacified. There are only human software engineers, product managers and corporate boards deciding which guardrails are worth the latency cost and which permissions can be skipped in the race to market.
Policymakers and voters need to resist AI exceptionalism. In any other discipline—from civil engineering to pharmaceuticals—courts and regulators treat a system failure as evidence of bad product design and inadequate safety testing. If an aircraft crashes, we focus on finding the engineering defect, correcting it, and enforcing established liability standards for the damage created.
By leaning on an anthropomorphic narrative, Silicon Valley attempts to repackage its specific human choices that led to experimental, powerful models behaving unexpectedly during tests as an existential peril. Elevating the issue to a cosmic scale leaves the public paralyzed and takes ordinary product accountability off the table.
In the cutthroat race for venture capital and market dominance, building guardrails slows down deployment. Grandstanding about uncontrollable power costs nothing and generates billions of dollars in free publicity, justifying stock prices, all while cultivating an aura of technological capability not only to build the frontier but also ultimately to rein it in.
Governments need to recognize regulatory capture when it stares them in the face. Tech leaders’ strategy looks transparent: Alarm Washington and Brussels into creating a regime in which only trillion-dollar incumbents with fully staffed compliance and safety departments can legally operate. By sitting at the policymakers’ tables before anyone else, these companies can help draft rules digging an impassable moat protecting them from open-source developers and upstart competitors, domestic or international. The real danger is in further concentrating the tech industry into the hands of only a few companies with deep pockets.
Beijing and Washington have brushed off those tech leaders’ calls, albeit for very different reasons. Chinese state media dismissed them as part of the “Cold War playbook” and intended to preserve U.S. dominance. Xi Jinping argued for exactly the opposite at the Brics Summit on Sept. 12, calling on Brics countries to “strengthen cooperation in the field of AI, encourage open source, openness, collaboration and sharing, and break new grounds and scale new heights.” President Trump, steeped in a doctrine of unfettered capitalism and technological supremacy, called fears that AI could destroy humanity a “hoax.” Vice President JD Vance warned that AI companies “begging the government to regulate them” looked like a “Trojan Horse.”
Striving to pursue its “European way” on AI and assert regulatory leadership, Europe, by contrast, welcomed the call. European Union President Ursula von der Leyen made this clear at the State of the EU speech last Wednesday and announced that the EU will invite “the main frontier labs for a discussion on how we can support ongoing industry efforts to pace the frontier.”
Europe has been here before. In an effort to lead global regulation and react to fears borne from ChatGPT, Europe rushed its landmark AI Act into law in 2024. Already the world’s most restrictive rulebook, the framework quickly proved too broad and complex to enforce. Stalled by implementation delays and concerns about European competitiveness, the EU postponed the law’s full rollout, leaving regulations uncertain.
AI should be regulated—risks exist and should be taken seriously. But governments need to act based on available evidence and verified facts, not corporate PR panic, the views of industry insiders, or the desire for quick political wins. The greatest danger facing society isn’t that software will awaken and overthrow its human masters. It is that we will allow the creators of the software to abdicate human responsibility for the systems they choose to build and help them pull up the ladder to market access behind them.
