According to Dickson, such moments helped remind people that Gap still exists. Since the companyâs 1990s heyday, a combination of too many stores, too much merchandise, and a lack of cohesive vision had sent sales on a steady decline, and the companyâs valuation from about $40 billion in 2000 to $8.41 billion in 2023, the year Dickson joined the company. He needed to capture attention quickly and improve morale. Posenâs creations for Hathaway, Erivo, and DaâVine Joy Randolph at last yearâs Met Gala did just that. âThose sparkles turned heads,â Dickson tells me, snapping his fingers. âThe lights were now on at the Gap.â Though the cleanup began long before Posenâs arrival, Gap Inc. has now seen sales grow for four consecutive quarters, and its stock is up 16 percent.
Posen, for his part, saw himself in Gapâs plight. âI love sleeping beauties,â he says, adding, âAmerica loves heralding and shooting down. And Iâve definitely been a dove, a pigeon, a unicorn, and a dragon. So for me itâs like, What an opportunity!â
Back in 2019, after Posenâs company closed, he found himself in a professional abyss. He wondered how he would support himself. Posen went to Los Angeles, flirting with the idea of working in Hollywood. He tried Paris, where he interviewed for jobs at French houses. Eventually, he returned to New York, supporting himself with private commissions including bridal dresses, a piece for Drakeâs 2023 tour, and costumes for Ryan Murphyâs Feud: Capote vs. The Swans. He and Dickson connected in the fall of 2023. Dickson was previously the president of Mattel, where he shepherded the Barbie blockbuster. âIâve been a Willy Wonka at Mattel,â Posen recalls Dickson saying, âand I need to find my Willy for Gap.â
The companyâs San Francisco headquarters has thousands of employees. Since I am also a child of the â80s, the offices reminded me of The Sims, with its busy collective of perpetually smiling people, a âGapeteria,â and a chief of technology named Sven. Posen bounds about its 15 floors, darting between meetings. To bypass the elevator bays, heâll often just take the stairs. âI would be terrified to see my steps,â he says. He has joked that the company should get him a firemanâs pole so he can scoot down to his office.
The companyâs language of corporate acronyms are a challenge for Posenâs dyslexia. His calendar is filled with SLT (senior leadership team) and LRP (long-range planning) meetings and reviews of P2Ms (product to market). For the first time in history, the company is redesigning stores for its brands all at once, and Posen goes over playlists, floor plans, and window displays. The day I visit marks the reopening of a Gap store in New Yorkâs Flatiron neighborhood, and Posen proudly tells me that the paint on the walls was purchased with his personal Farrow & Ball discount. When he visited the new Banana Republic flagship in San Francisco, he inquired why the decor included a bowl of green apples and had it swapped out for an asparagus fern.
In the afternoon we settle into Posenâs office, where he unlaces his boots. âThe shoes are coming off,â he says. âYou donât care, right?â It makes sense that Posen, who is highly tactile, would need to design barefoot. By this point in our time together, he had insisted on fixing the collar of my shirt, tried on a womanâs blazer worn by Gap Inc.âs VP of store development (who tells me that Posen inspected the fabric of her pants the previous week), unbuckled his pants to check the weave of a Gap tag, snapped a leaf off a plant to add to a mood board for summer, and studied the brand labels on denim worn by three separate Gap employees.