EMV, MIV and the Luxury Industry’s Blind Spot

The purpose of marketing is not attention. It is profitable demand.

Another day, another Business of Fashion post caught my attention.

And because I am highly opinionated, here we go again.

This time, the discussion centered around **EMV (Earned Media Value), MIV (Media Impact Value)**, and whether fashion brands are beginning to move beyond vanity metrics.

It’s a worthwhile discussion.

It also sent me down a rabbit hole that somehow led from EMV and MIV to Chanel shopping frenzies, Gucci’s AI campaign, artisan schools, talent development programs, and the least glamorous word in luxury:

sales.

Because the more I thought about it, the more I realized that the debate isn’t really about metrics.

It’s about what those metrics are supposed to accomplish.

And that’s when it hit me.

I’ve seen this movie before.

And no, I’m not talking about The Devil Wears Prada.

Although, if we’re being honest, the first movie belonged to the magazine era.

The sequel feels much closer to today.

Different players.

Different platforms.

Same obsession with attention.

For years, fashion brands measured visibility.

The customer was measuring something else.

When Vogue Was the Algorithm

Long before TikTok, Instagram, YouTube, influencers, creators, engagement rates, impressions, and dashboards, fashion already had its gatekeepers.

They were called magazines.

Vogue.

Harper’s Bazaar.

Elle.

Allure.

Cosmopolitan.

As someone who subscribed to an embarrassing number of fashion and beauty magazines, I can assure younger readers that these publications once held enormous influence.

You saw a product.

You wanted the product.

You tore out the page.

You carried it around.

You showed it to friends.

In many ways, magazines did exactly what influencers do today.

They created awareness.

They generated desire.

They helped consumers discover products they may never have encountered otherwise.

But there was one crucial difference.

Nobody confused the magazine with the sale.

The magazine was the messenger.

The product still had to do the hard work.

The Blind Spot in the Metrics

This is where EMV and MIV become interesting.

Not because they’re useless.

Far from it.

They are useful indicators of visibility, conversation, reach and cultural relevance.

The problem begins when visibility becomes the goal instead of the measurement.

A post can generate millions of impressions.

A campaign can dominate conversation.

An influencer can generate extraordinary engagement.

Yet none of those things automatically translate into commercial success.

Attention and demand are related.

They are not identical.

And that distinction matters.

A lot.

Gucci and the Limits of Attention

One of the more interesting examples in recent memory came from Gucci’s AI-generated Primavera campaign.

The campaign generated enormous conversation.

People discussed it.

Shared it.

Debated it.

Criticized it.

EMV surged.

Visibility was undeniable.

Yet much of the conversation itself was negative.

The campaign became a reminder that attention can be measured without necessarily creating desire.

Visibility alone does not tell us whether consumers want what they are seeing.

Or, more importantly, whether they are willing to buy it.

A metric can tell us that people are talking.

It cannot always tell us how they feel.

Chanel and When Attention Actually Works

The opposite example may be Chanel.

Recently, media coverage has documented shopping frenzies, packed boutiques, waiting lists and consumers lining up to purchase products despite luxury’s broader slowdown.

In this case, attention and demand appear to be moving in the same direction.

But that doesn’t necessarily mean attention created the demand.

It may simply be reflecting demand that already exists.

After all, Chanel’s desirability wasn’t built in a season.

It wasn’t built by a campaign.

It wasn’t built by an influencer.

It was built over decades through product, consistency, storytelling, retail experience and customer relationships.

The attention is real.

The demand is real.

The sales are real.

And that’s precisely why the attention matters.

(Chanel customers may disagree about many things, but standing in line to buy Chanel is apparently not one of them.)

What Luxury Houses Are Actually Investing In

This is where things became especially interesting to me.

Because while much of the industry discussion focuses on attention, the luxury houses themselves seem increasingly focused on something else.

Talent.

Training.

Craftsmanship.

Capability.

Education.

Hermès continues to invest in artisan training and educational partnerships.

Dior recently highlighted career development programs designed to help employees grow across the house and the broader group.

Kering continues to support educational initiatives and future creative talent.

LVMH invests heavily in learning platforms, talent development, sustainability initiatives and long-term capability building.

At first glance, these initiatives appear unrelated to EMV.

They’re not.

They’re the reason luxury exists in the first place.

Because craftsmanship doesn’t appear magically.

Expertise doesn’t emerge overnight.

Desirability isn’t manufactured by a dashboard.

Someone has to design the product.

Someone has to make the product.

Someone has to sell the product.

Someone has to create an experience worth returning for.

Luxury houses understand this.

Which is why so many of them continue investing in people.

The Unfashionable Word Nobody Likes to Say

Sales.

There.

I said it.

The least glamorous word in luxury.

And arguably the most important.

Because sales fund everything.

They fund the artisan schools.

They fund the training programs.

They fund sustainability initiatives.

They fund innovation.

They fund stores.

They fund client experience.

They fund the next generation of talent.

Luxury may speak the language of heritage, creativity, craftsmanship and culture.

But all of those things require resources.

Resources come from sales.

Not impressions.

Not engagement rates.

Not dashboards.

Sales.

This doesn’t diminish marketing.

It explains why marketing exists.

The purpose of marketing is not attention.

It is profitable demand.

Marketing creates visibility.

Visibility creates opportunity.

Demand creates sales.

Sales sustain luxury.

The Product Is Still the Product

Perhaps that’s why the current conversation around vanity metrics feels less like a rejection of marketing and more like a return to fundamentals.

The industry’s most successful houses are not abandoning attention.

They are simply remembering what attention is supposed to accomplish.

Magazines weren’t the product.

Influencers aren’t the product.

Attention isn’t the product.

The product is still the product.

And when the product, the experience, the craftsmanship and the customer relationship are strong enough, attention becomes far more valuable because it is amplifying something real.

Not creating the illusion of it.

Conclusion

EMV and MIV are useful.

Visibility matters.

Influencers matter.

Media matters.

But they are measurements.

Not destinations.

Because at the end of the day, customers don’t buy impressions.

They buy products.

And the brands that seem best positioned for the future may be the ones quietly investing in the things that dashboards struggle to measure:

craftsmanship,

talent,

trust,

service,

education,

desirability,

and long-term customer relationships.

The metrics tell us what happened.

Demand tells us what matters.

PS:

If this essay feels unusually obsessed with craftsmanship, I blame my recent habit of making marinara sauce from scratch.

Apparently roasting tomatoes, onions and garlic for a single pasta dinner is now a perfectly reasonable use of an afternoon.

The result is undeniably better.

The process is undeniably slower.

I suspect luxury houses would understand.

PPS:

Also, a brief apology to shingles.

For months, you’ve been an unwanted but persistent research assistant.

Between Gabapentin, Naproxen, Prednisone, electric zaps and whatever fresh nonsense you decide to introduce each week, you’ve provided far too much time for thinking about luxury strategy.

I would still prefer a different research assistant.

PPPS:

This essay took more than 24 hours to write.

Not because the subject was particularly complicated.

Because I wrote it, let it stew overnight, woke up before 6 a.m., and immediately realized I had forgotten an entire Chanel chapter.

At this point, I can only assume my writing process has become indistinguishable from a slow cooker.

Low heat. Long cooking time. Occasional stirring.

About the Author

Tita Friday writes about luxury, branding, retail, consumer behavior, and whatever Business of Fashion article sends her down a rabbit hole that week.

She is endlessly fascinated by why people buy what they buy, why brands succeed or fail, and why the most interesting answers are rarely found in a dashboard.

Apparently, she also lets essays marinate overnight.