Schiaparelli turns jewels stolen from the Louvre into a brilliant marketing masterstroke

Last fall, the Louvre was the scene of a theft that generated enormous media attention. In broad daylight, a group of thieves managed to enter the museum through a window, disguised as maintenance workers, and stole several extremely valuable historical jewels. Images from the surveillance cameras quickly circulated worldwide, showing nothing particularly dramatic: a forklift, slow movements, work overalls. It was precisely this ordinariness that left many incredulous—how could such a heist succeed in one of the world’s most famous and closely guarded museums?

Within hours, the story went viral. Memes, comments, reconstructions, and mockery quickly flooded social media. Before long, the news had been absorbed into the logic of marketing, to the point that even the company manufacturing the forklifts seen in the footage seized the moment to highlight their remarkable quietness and discretion.

Among the most notable pieces stolen from the museum was the pearl-and-diamond tiara that once belonged to Empress Eugénie, wife of Napoleon III—an iconic 19th-century jewel that entered the Louvre’s collections not only for its material value, but for what it represents in terms of power, luxury, and imperial imagery.

As is often the case with hyper-visible news stories, this one was quickly consumed and just as quickly set aside. It seemed that everything surrounding the theft had already been said and seen. Then came Paris Haute Couture Week, when Schiaparelli chose to return to that episode, reinterpreting the stolen jewels and bringing them onto the runway. The pieces were not faithfully reconstructed, but transformed into deliberately theatrical crowns, necklaces, and ornaments. The operation fits into a recognizable trajectory within the work of Daniel Roseberry, Schiaparelli’s creative director, who is known for turning widely shared cultural references into creations conceived for the most exclusive luxury stage. It is not the first time his work has openly engaged with art and art history, from classical sculpture to Renaissance references and pop imagery now firmly embedded in the collective imagination.

But those pieces of jewelry—analyzed and reinterpreted by Roseberry through their specific material and artisanal qualities—would likely never have become a focal point for the fashion house, or for the public, without the news event and the media attention that followed. The phenomenon is interesting because haute couture marketing operates very differently from that of fast-consumer brands. Haute couture does not aim for immediate impact, but for long-term positioning, built through partnerships, representation, and collaborations that generate value and exclusivity over time. The goal is not to be talked about instantly, but to sediment a recognizable and lasting image. This is also why, traditionally, haute couture has maintained a certain distance from the most immediate current affairs. It operates on long timelines and on iconic images that aspire to be timeless. Schiaparelli, in particular, has built its identity since its founding in 1927 around gold, ornament, surrealism, and a sustained dialogue with art, rather than with the news cycle.
 

The question, then, is whether this choice marks a shift. It is certainly not a direct advertisement or a viral stunt. The operation works because it draws on imagery that is already familiar, reworking it in a way that remains consistent with the brand’s language and positioning. Schiaparelli does not recount the theft or comment on it; instead, it uses it as a reference, moving it onto another plane. In doing so, the maison remains true to itself, maintaining a distance that allows it to stay recognizable, while at the same time revealing how even couture today feels the need to engage with the present in order to remain visible and relevant. Even haute couture, in short, is not immune to instant marketing. The difference, perhaps, lies in how it chooses to practice it.

Opening image: Empress Eugénie's pearl and diamond tiara - Lemonnier - Galerie d'Apollon - Louvre via Wikimedia Commons