MARCH 2–15, 2020 | THE CUT 63brand itself in honor of its eminence, such
as a book on Rimowa, the German com-
pany whose grooved aluminum suitcases
are the kings of the baggage carousel.
Many partners become repeat customers.
“We’ve done five books with Coca-Cola,”
Alex Assouline says. “Dior, 13.” Richard
Dickson, now the president of Mattel,
approached the Assoulines in 2008, “try-
ing to convince them,” he said, “what they
could do with me if we created this amaz-
ing celebration of Barbie.” The Barbie
book became a collector’s item, not least
because Mattel stood ready to snap up
copies to proudly display in its offices worldwide. “We talk about
what is the vision for what story we’re trying to tell, whether
that’s a Barbie story, a Hot Wheels story, or a Mattel story,” Dick-
son said in an interview. Another book, for Mattel’s 75th anni-
versary, is being discussed.
And yet partner and editorial books sit spine by spine in
Assouline’s stores and their clients’ libraries. “It’s interesting to
see the interest in the library,” Martine says. “It was not the case
ten years ago. The library was something boring. ‘You want a
bibliothèqueat home? Oh my God.’ ” Now the company offers
curation services to interior designers.
The Assoulines insist on editorial independence, but they
acknowledge that exposés are not the point and their gentility is,
in part, expressed in gentleness. “I think they give the subjects a
lot of freedom in terms of how to position the books,” Frasch says.
One of their best sellers, and a key get, is Lee Radziwill’s memoir,
Happy Times,which Assouline published in 2001. In her long,
exciting lifetime, Radziwill was commissioned to write a memoir
in the ’70s and again in the ’90s, but neither came to fruition. It’s
hard to imagine a traditional publisher accepting the agreeable
trifle Radziwill produced, “a slim picture book with reminiscences
on the Bouvier sisters’ carefree early years,” in the words of the
New YorkTimes.“Most memories are happy, right?,” Larry King
asked Radziwill when she appeared on his show in 2001. “Oh yes,
I think so,” she replied. “You can sort of block the ones that aren’t,
to a certain extent.” The book has sold 50,000 copies to date.
The guiding principle seems to be “If you don’t have any-
thing nice to say, don’t say anything at all.” For a fee, Assouline
will happily produce books not meant for the public market-
place at all. Prosper compares his team to a restaurant
kitchen: “We have all of our three-star kitchen doing a bar
mitzvah for somebody you do not know,” he crows with a
merry laugh. Assouline has published titles on private collec-
tions, private homes (“We just finished a book on one of the
most expensive houses in the world,” a 17th-century behemoth
in Paris, Prosper says), private travel diaries (“likeNoa Noa,”
Gauguin’s Tahitian memoir), even entire countries, commis-
sioned by their governments. “They can do it anywhere else,”
he says, “but they want to have an Assouline.” I wondered
aloud if all of these governments were democratically elected
ones, which got a laugh, but in his office Prosper proudly dis-
plays a forthcoming title, as tall as his waist, on Al Ula, the
soon-to-open “living museum” of archaeological and historical
sites in Saudi Arabia, photographed by Robert Polidori and
commissioned by the Saudis.
Book publishing is a difficult business, especially for more
expensive, illustrated books, whose costs can be driven sky high
by photo rights and permissions, and some of Assouline’s rival
companies have sought refuge in larger companies or patrons.
(Theprivate-equity billionaire and avid rare-book collector Leon
Black owns Phaidon.) Assouline has maintained its indepen-
dence, but the conglomerate LVMH—which owns Dior, Fendi,
Givenchy, and Marc Jacobs—acquired a minority stake in the
business in 2013. The company is profitable, though the family
declined to share specifics of their revenue or volume.
The Assouline sensibility—not surprising for a company that
publishesIn the Spirit of Miami Beach, In the Spirit of Palm
Beach,andIn the Spirit of Gstaad—can travel. And in recent
years, its scope has expanded from books into the world around
them. Prosper sees the next generation of the business, now
vested in Alex’s care, as being in partnerships that bring a touch
of Assouline to worthy projects, for a price. The company now
keeps 13 shops and 20 “branded corners” in high-end department
stores around the world as well as the flagship Maison Assouline
in London and a franchise Maison in Dubai. (Gucci, which has
published with Assouline, named the London Maison, in a former
bank building dating to the early 1920s, one of its “Gucci Places,”
which “reflect the taste and values of the House.”) “This is one of
the most important departments,” Prosper says.
The Related Companies, the real-estate developer that is
among the most landowning in Manhattan, contracted with
the Assoulines to put a library lounge in the Caledonia (a
hybrid rental-condo building in Chelsea, which opened in
2008), as one of several on-site amenities that include an Equi-
nox gym and high-end dog care. The Assoulines designed the
space and picked the books. “All of the advertising was ‘Equi-
nox for your body, Assouline for your mind,’ ” Prosper says. Two
years ago, they came back to “refresh” the lounge; another
refresh is planned, and Related has brought them into more
buildings, including 15 Hudson Yards and the forthcoming
Lantern House near the High Line.
The Caledonia refresh was one of Alex’s first major projects
for Assouline, after he returned to the family business follow-
ing a short career in consulting. “There’s a lot in every industry
we can venture into, because we really create luxury lifestyle,”
he says. The biggest opportunity is not to blanket the world
with books: Luxury and availability are natural enemies, and
the print runs for high-end illustrated books like Assouline’s
generally don’t exceed 5,000, anyway. Assouline is a “niche,
still a niche,” Martine says. “We like that.” ■Unlike a seasonal campaign or a throwaway bit of
marketing, books last. “They are all going to the garbage,”
Prosper says, “and the book is going to stay at home.”