He was the odd man out among Bernard Arnault’s string of sea changes; having put McQueen in at Givenchy, Galliano at Christian Dior, and Marc Jacobs at Louis Vuitton, shaking up his collection of venerable French luxury brands by handing them over to some of the most irreverent designers of the time. Though just as compelling, Kors’ appointment to Celine lacked the sensationalism those other designers could command. He had no grunge collection, no bumster pants, no theatrical displays of London street energy. He was not, as those designers were then, at the forefront of defining a post-modernist attitude towards luxury. He only had his clothes: well designed and well made, clothes that worked for the wearer and that, in their lush fabrics and exquisite detail, oozed luxury from every seam and stitch rather than by lofty suggestion or subversive association. It’s a focused idea of luxury based on the tenets of simplicity and classicism, an idea of luxury that about 14 years later is perhaps even more compelling as the whole market becomes besieged by the bright and effusive allure of fashion and spectacle.