In the early 2000s, while the consumer electronics world continued to cram computers onto anonymous shelves, Steve Jobs of Apple understood something simple and radical.

Selling through large chains meant offering a mediocre, indistinct experience, governed by logic that had nothing to do with the authentic value of his brand.

In a nutshell, Jobs was tired of delegating the distribution of his products; he wanted total commercial control.

It was then that, according to several accounts, the big boss of Apple decided to meet with Bernard Arnault of LVMH,the French luxury giant.

Arnault is the man who had transformed luxury into a cultural machine – even before it became an economic one.

That meeting gave rise to a key insight: if you want a product to be desired, you have to create the ‘appropriate’ context in which to encounter it, in which to get to know it.

This is how the concept of the Apple Store was born, that is, the direct distribution to consumers by the Apple company.

Bernard Arnault likely explained to the American entrepreneur that in luxury, the store is not simply a ‘point of sale’, it is a true statement of intent.

Apple embraced this vision and translated it into architecture, space, light, emptiness, and silence.

Apple Stores had somewhat few products, but these were displayed like works of art – even before touching a device, customers could ‘feel’ Apple (the brand).

The locations were never accidental either: Fifth Avenue, Champs-Élysées, Ginza…

Places that were not (only) used to generate traffic, but to define an identity.

Opening in Tokyo opposite Louis Vuitton, for example, was not a provocation but a strong statement: Apple occupied the same ‘symbolic territory’ as luxury.

Then there was the ‘experience’.

In luxury, you don’t push the customer, you don’t rush them – you give them all the time they need.

Apple eliminated pressure and the feeling of having to ‘buy’.

The store became a space to enjoy; the more anxiety was reduced, the more desire grew – an ancient rule of fashion and luxury, applied with elegance and cunning to consumer electronics.

Apple staff were not a sales force, but a body of ambassadors, of advisors; it didn’t matter so much what they knew about the product, but how they spoke, how they listened, how they related.

The product was not the focus, the focus was the culture and atmosphere surrounding the product.

Each interaction was created ad hoc, every detail contributed to promoting the brand’s meaning; every word, every gesture, every sign had its weight, its raison d’être.

Apple took 100% possession of the space, the language, the atmosphere. Jobs understood this very well: if you don’t control the experience, sooner or later you lose your identity.

Finally, the most profound lesson from Bernard Arnault – as we imagine it: “Luxury doesn’t sell objects, it builds rituals.”

Apple did the same.

Let’s think about the unboxing, the first start-up of a device, the Genius Bar designed as a place of help and care, not just repair.

Buying in an Apple Store became a symbolic act, not a mere purchase transaction.

Steve Jobs wanted accessible, rigorous luxury that was never ostentatious.

His true stroke of genius was to take the strictest rules of luxury and make them democratic, applying them without ever trivializing them.

That’s why Apple not only changed the way technological products are offered, it changed the way a brand is presented.

Andy Cavallini