KAIKAI

Buying a Hermès Birkin directly from the source can feel like competing in an Olympic sport. This, at least, is the impression conveyed by social media.

There are countless videos from Hermès devotees explaining how the system supposedly works: it appears that you need to be a spendy Hermès customer long before you’re allowed to become a Birkin owner. Many suggest that the golden rule is to cultivate a close relationship with your sales associate (devotees call them SAs) before slipping the desire into conversation. The result: a boutique-bought Birkin, priced from around £11,000 for the 25cm silhouette in classic togo leather (though Hermès does not publish these prices). Costs rise steeply depending on size, material and hardware.

The Birkin has become the unicorn of luxury, and this mystique has even landed Hermès in court. Critics accused the brand of unfair favouritism by effectively requiring shoppers to buy other products before being “allowed” to purchase a Birkin, and of being less than transparent about how scarce the bags really are.

But in September last year, a US judge shut the case down for good, ruling that while Hermès may reserve Birkins for its best customers, that doesn’t break antitrust law. In other words, the exclusivity may be frustrating, but it’s legal.

More controversial is a recent investigation by French fashion magazine Glitz that claims that Hermès staff may be scrutinising clients’ social media profiles, and even looking up their home addresses when deciding who is worthy of a Birkin. This allegation sounds almost as outdated as Elizabethan sumptuary laws (which dictated which fabrics, garments and accessories could be worn by people of differing social status), but the truth is that no one really knows for sure how Hermès assigns Birkins.

It does seem, however, that the more a client spends in store, the more likely they are to have the option to buy one. Is this sinister, or just a very clever reward system? Spend enough at M&S and you get a free bag of Percy Pigs. Spend enough at Hermès and you might get a Birkin.

‘I never know for certain if I’ll be offered the bag I’ve requested’

Seasoned French Hermès bag collector Marianne Octobon, a former couture seamstress at Chanel and Givenchy, now runs the aptly named Instagram account @OrangeDaily, which offers an insider’s look into the allure of Hermès handbags.

Octobon notes that the brand’s exact selection process has remained a closely guarded secret since she became a customer in the early 1990s. “It’s like a seductive dance,” she says, laughing. “Hermès has long claimed to produce only a small number of Birkins and Kellys. Today, the company has around 50 workshops in France and roughly 200 people crafting handbags. You go into a store and the sales assistants will say they don’t know what’s in the boxes until they unpack them.”

Octobon owns more than 20 Hermès bags, many of them Birkins. Her first model, still her favourite, is a tan Kelly in ostrich leather, bought in 1993. “It’s funny,” she adds, “because even now, as a devoted client, I never know for certain if I’ll be offered the bag I’ve requested. The brand keeps you guessing.” None of this has ever fazed her. “These are exquisite bags. You can feel the savoir faire of their leather specialists in every stitch.”

‘There’s talk of a magical Las Vegas boutique’

According to British content creator Sophie Shohet, who is currently coveting a Kelly 25 to add to her Hermès collection, the key to securing a Birkin, or indeed a Kelly, depends on a mixture of luck, building a good rapport with a sales assistant, and purchasing ancillary items.

“I always say that if you make even a small purchase at a Hermès boutique, ask for contact details and stay in touch, even if your email is ignored,” she says. “[I know people] who claim they’ve managed to buy a Birkin with no sales history at all, particularly in airport boutiques. There’s also been talk of a magical Las Vegas boutique. One subscriber claims she was offered an extremely rare Hermès Himalaya Birkin there, crafted from crocodile hide. It sounds implausible.” The plot thickens.

There’s a lottery

But what does it actually take to get through the door and be considered for a handbag purchase? In Paris, Hermès operates a lottery system for what are known as “leather appointments”. Customers fill out an online form and, if successful, are invited the following day to meet a sales associate at one of three boutiques. During the appointment, they can outline what they would like to buy – if the item is in stock, it can be purchased, but more often than not, shoppers are asked to wait for a callback.

According to some sources, the brand receives around 5,000 lottery requests a day, so the stakes are high. Associates will note your handbag wishlist, although Kellys and Birkins are referred to internally as exactly that: wishes. You may express interest, but it is made clear from the outset that securing one is far from guaranteed.

You join a cult

Cameron Tewson, a PR consultant based in London, has purchased a variety of Hermès bags, including a Birkin, Kelly and Haut à Courroies travel bag, also known as a HAC. He refers to “the cult of Hermès” as a very real and carefully curated phenomenon, one that he admits he fell for hook, line and sinker. “I say ‘cult’ in a playful way,” he explains, “but it’s certainly true that the mystery activates deep human drives around belonging and status.”

Last year, Tewson was invited to create a special order with Hermès – in London, roughly 15 clients per store receive this invitation annually. The customers can customise their chosen bag style by selecting from a menu of leathers, hardware and strap options. “This was a truly special and unique in-store experience. I was super surprised to be invited. If you appreciate the workmanship and beauty of the bags, it’s irresistible.”

‘It was intimated that my pre-spend should be £20,000’

German-born entrepreneur Hannah Geuenich (@hannahgeuenich.de), owner of the slow fashion label Hidden Muse, lives in Dubai, where the Hermès boutique is understandably inundated with requests for its hero bags. “My goal was always to get a Birkin, but in such an affluent city, the rules are different. Most clients want and can afford one.”

Geuenich played the long game, cultivating a friendly relationship with her sales assistant. “First, I bought shoes and silk scarves, then I invested in more expensive items like homeware and jewellery. It was intimated that my pre-spend should be around 100,000 AED [about £20,000]. I love the game, and I love all my Hermès items.”

My quest to secure an Hermès bag in London

In London, leather appointments are offered at the Sloane Street boutique. These are typically requested in person and, if granted, scheduled around four weeks later. Without such an appointment, or an established relationship, it is nearly impossible to purchase a handbag of any kind at Hermès.

To test the theory, I rocked up to the Sloane Street boutique without a leather appointment and was politely informed that these must be requested in person during the final week of every month.

Agreeing to return to arrange a slot, I was then, unexpectedly, asked what bag I was hoping for. Caught off guard, I said the bucket-shaped Picotin, relatively speaking, one of its more affordable offerings at £2,700 for the smallest 18cm handheld model. To my surprise, I was told there had been a cancellation and that it was my lucky day. It did indeed feel like I had passed some sort of test.

I was ushered into the waiting area, offered coffee in a Hermès china cup, and then presented with not one, but three Picotin bags, including a 22cm version in gorgeous forest green grained leather with a gold lock. I can’t say I wasn’t tempted, not least because of the theatre surrounding the unboxing.

Conducted in hushed tones, the assistant slipped on brown satin gloves and carefully lifted each bag from its box as if it were a rare treasure. “No pressure,” he said, “but we cannot keep these and your next appointment will be in three months.”