The Limits Of Limited Editions

Until recently, the term "limited edition" called to mind the kind of merchandise you'd find advertised in the back pages of The New Yorker: signed Ansel Adams poster prints, commemorative sets of gold coins, letterpress books (unglamorous, niche products with a dedicated, if slightly dorky, customer base). Then something strange began to happen. First, luxury-goods conglomerates and then mass retailers discovered that a little limited edition can go a long way, and it started to pop up in cooler pockets of the retail landscape. Now, creating limited-edition collections has become a widespread marketing strategy to capture consumer attention and reinvigorate brand identity while boosting the bottom line. All of a sudden, there seems to be no limit to the number of limited editions floating around, from €9 MAC lipsticks to Vertu's €200,000 ruby- and diamond-studded cell phone.

The practice of releasing limited runs took off in the late '90s, when the luxury obsession was cresting and brands like Louis Vuitton and Gucci were brainstorming ways to keep the party going. Someone had the brilliant idea of issuing artisan editions of their staple product lines, so out came the crystal-embroidered double-G jeans and the mink carryalls dyed with the LV logo. They inspired instant waiting lists at flagship stores; even though the products cost thousands of dollars more than the mass-market models, consumers were willing to pony up in order to appear more exclusive and au courant than their peers.

Recently, the rest of the luxury retail establishment has caught on, and houses have begun producing small batches of special merchandise for their flagship stores. Balenciaga designer Nicolas Ghesquiere is so enamored of the process, in fact, that he has christened the Balenciaga Edition collection, reissuing six to eight archival pieces each year that appeal to style fanatics eager to distinguish themselves as connoisseurs.

Mass-market brands like Target and the Gap have also gotten in on the action as the hunger for limited edition has trickled down to the less glamorous High Street. Target was the first to catch on, releasing affordable capsule collections by high-end designers such as Proenza Schouler and Behnaz Sarafpour. And in 2007 the Gap asked three young winners of awards from the Council of Fashion Designers of America to each reinvent the white shirt, the results of which were sold in Gap stores across the country. Last month the company unveiled its latest limited-edition project, in collaboration with the Whitney Biennial: a series of Artist Edition T shirts by 13 influential contemporary artists, including Jeff Koons, Barbara Kruger and Chuck Close, which range in price from €18 to €24.

The online portal 20ltd built its entire company on linking credibility to well-admired design talent. Every couple of months, a panel of editors selects 20 creators from the world of jewelry, fashion, furniture and product design who produce offbeat objects in small editions, which are then sold online. Current offerings include a massive monograph of Vivienne Westwood's eclectic work for €1,764 and an obscure Bisazza mosaic portrait of Napoleon, which sells for approximately €17,400. Jolyon Fenwick, 20ltd's managing director, believes the edition is enticing "because in a world where even premiere luxury brands are so ubiquitous, and their products so commoditized, people are excited at the prospect at having something precious."

The limited edition is under threat, however, by companies using it to market all sorts of random, lower-end merchandise, including Pokemon collectors' tins and Indiana Jones Mint Crisp M&Ms. This flood of mass-market interest has robbed the category of some of its cachet, and risks rendering it another example of our consumer culture's bad habit of overdoing a good idea. Fenwick isn't worried. "I believe that people can differentiate between the real limited editions and a marketing ploy," he says. But the truth is that high-end initiatives are entirely as calculated as their lowbrow cousins, just more expensive and esoteric.

At opposite extremes of the spectrum, the limited edition can either be alienatingly elitist or uninspiringly plebian, but at its best, it results in accessible and intriguing high-low collaborations. Among the most winning examples: Kidrobot's offbeat, inexpensive toys created by cult artists and Alessi's limited-edition Juicy Salif juicer, a 24-karat gold-plated version of one of Philippe Starck's most seminal designs. Next up: perhaps a limited-edition Happy Meal, courtesy of McDonald's, with plastic action figures from Takashi Murakami, the Japanese artist who reinvented the original limited-edition Vuitton monogram bag. Democratized luxury for all. I'm lovin' it.

© 2008