Can AI make us dream? Luxury facing the temptation of the algorithm

The Golden Age of advertising: when ideas had a soul

There was a time when advertising had a soul. Not a metaphorical soul, but something tangible: a presence, a vibration, a human trace felt in every campaign. Marcel Bleustein-Blanchet, founder of Publicis, expressed it with disarming simplicity: “Producing without information is producing halfway.” For him, advertising was not about technique, but about a deep understanding of others. Grasping emotions. Anticipating desires. Giving brands a soul. That soul came from intuition, doubt, and the time spent searching for the right idea. It came from humans.

In the 1980s and 1990s, that soul shone brightly. Jean-Marie Dru spoke of “disruption,” Maurice Lévy of strategic courage. Agencies resembled laboratories of imagination more than businesses. They broke codes, sparked emotions, and took risks. The goal was not merely to sell, but to tell stories that left a mark. Back then, the idea reigned supreme. And with it, a creative energy that didn’t just inform: it transported.

Take 1973, Chanel No. 5. Catherine Deneuve wasn’t selling a perfume—she embodied a fantasy. The image was polished, the music captivating, every shot meticulously crafted. But what struck wasn’t technical perfection. It was presence. You could sense the sleepless nights, passionate debates, fragile intuitions behind the creation. Beneath the gloss, there were humans who searched, doubted, dared. Luxury didn’t just communicate: it sculpted desire. Every campaign carried a soul. Every creation was a statement.

The rise of AI: efficiency vs. emotion

Then, gradually, that soul began to fade. Not abruptly. Not through a sudden revolution. But under the pressure of productivity, speed, and optimization. Artificial intelligence entered this context as a promise of a solution. In seconds, it writes, draws, edits, simulates. It produces ten times faster, at negligible cost. Brands are delighted: efficiency, volume, precision. But behind this appeal lies a darker reality. As machines take over, creation loses its breath. Its texture. Its emotion. That inexplicable element that makes a visual move us, a slogan haunt us, a campaign stay with us.

Jean-Marie Dru put it clearly: “I fear that relevance has taken over. The only possible meeting point remains an idea.” An idea. Not a calculation. Not an optimization. A fragile intuition, born in a human mind, shaped by doubt and boldness. This fragility is precisely what algorithms cannot generate. They can reproduce, optimize, accelerate. But create a soul? Not yet. Perhaps never.

The story of the DDB network embodies this shift. Founded in 1948 by Bill Bernbach, the agency invented the creative duo of art director and copywriter, and produced iconic campaigns like “Think Small” for Volkswagen. Bernbach believed in honest, human, intelligent advertising. His influence was so great that Apple referenced him in “Think Different,” alongside Gandhi and Einstein. By the end of 2024, the Omnicom–Interpublic merger ($13.5 billion) plans the dissolution of DDB in the name of $750 million in “synergies” ; in other words, thousands of layoffs. This isn’t just a restructuring; it signals the end of a philosophy: creativity before finance, ideas before KPIs. DDB isn’t dying from AI—it’s dying from the world AI accelerates.

The Uberization of creators

Uberization doesn’t just affect drivers. It now reaches creators themselves. Freelance illustrators see commissions collapse in the face of Midjourney and DALL·E. Copywriters no longer create: they “correct” and “humanize” AI-generated text. Video editors supervise automation tools. Art directors become curators of algorithmic outputs. Like Uber drivers before them, they keep the title but lose control of their tools and the value of their talent. Platforms dictate the rules, standardize formats, impose aesthetics, and flatten pricing. The creator, once an artisan, becomes an operator.

The pressure of volume and immediacy

Within agencies, pressure intensifies: “10 variations in 48 hours”, “50 visuals for A/B testing”, “100 personalized versions”. Humanly impossible volumes. AI becomes the only way to keep up. But as it takes over, expectations shift. What was exceptional becomes standard. What required time becomes instant. Creators must adapt. Their sensitivity becomes standardized. Their talent becomes adjustable. The soul dissolves in the flow.

Luxury between technological fascination and craft resistance

Luxury hesitates. On one side: innovation—Balenciaga’s AI campaigns, Gucci’s avatars, Louis Vuitton’s augmented reality. On the other: resistance—Hermès films hands sewing, Chanel showcases ateliers, Dior celebrates craftsmanship. Luxury doesn’t just sell products: it sells heritage, know-how, rarity. Craft becomes its antidote to automation. Time becomes its answer to immediacy. And above all, human soul becomes its shield against algorithmic coldness.

Because luxury rests on a paradox: it must fascinate without becoming ordinary. AI, by endlessly replicating, threatens this balance. How can you create a sense of wonder when the tool that produces the image is accessible to everyone? How can you sell exclusivity when the creative process becomes industrialised? The major fashion houses have intuitively grasped this: AI can optimise, accelerate and explore. But it cannot replace what makes the heart of a luxury campaign beat. That grace. That thrill. That certain je ne sais quoi that no language can truly name. That dimension which means we don’t look at a Hermès advert the way we scroll through an Instagram feed. Because there is a soul within it. Because we perceive a presence.

Saturation, fatigue, and the quest for authenticity

And this gradual disappearance of the creative spirit is not confined to the inner workings of agencies. It is spreading to consumers, profoundly transforming their relationship with brands. Consumers are overwhelmed. Instagram, TikTok and YouTube are overflowing with perfect, optimised content. Everything looks the same. Everything feels artificial. Everything lacks that roughness, that imperfection which betrays a human presence. The information overload created by AI generates a formidable saturation: the more content there is, the less attention there is. The more brands speak, the less they are heard. Above all, the less they are felt.

Gen Z and the authenticity radar

Gen Z, ultra-connected yet paradoxically thirsty for authenticity, detects this emptiness with unsettling sharpness. Their bullshit radar is relentless. They instantly spot generic content, prefabricated storytelling and feigned emotion. And they turn away from it. Not out of cynicism, but out of weariness. Out of a vital need to feel something real. For this generation, transparency is no longer a marketing option: it is an existential requirement. They want to know who creates, how, and why. The process matters just as much as the result. They seek the soul behind the image. The intention behind the message. The emotion behind the perfection.

Desire in the age of the algorithm

This shift is transforming the very nature of desire. Faced with this collective desensitisation, consumers are no longer simply looking for products with a compelling narrative. They are seeking brands that embrace their humanity, that show their imperfections, that take their time. Rarity is no longer confined to the object itself: it extends to the way it is told. A campaign that breathes, that hesitates, that dares to be imperfect becomes more valuable than a visual generated with icy perfection. Because it bears a human touch. Because it contains real emotion, not an optimised one. ‘Creative craftsmanship’ acquires the same value as artisanal craftsmanship. It is the same quest, the same rejection of standardisation.

For the luxury sector, this issue becomes a matter of survival. Because luxury does not sell products. It sells desire. And desire cannot be imposed; it cannot be generated by an algorithm. It is cultivated; it thrives on mystery, emotion and a sense of time standing still. When a brand shifts to AI-assisted mass production, it is risking its very survival. Generic content, however aesthetically pleasing it may be, does not inspire dreams. It informs, it may seduce, but it does not transport. It lacks that imperceptible spark that makes an image move us beyond words. Without transport, there is no desire. Without desire, there is no luxury. And without soul, there is no transport.

Towards an alliance between artificial intelligence and emotional intelligence

The battle is therefore being fought on this delicate ground. The brands that manage to preserve that touch of humanity, that perceptible sensitivity, that embraced imperfection, and that palpable emotion will be the ones that continue to captivate. The others, swept up in the race for efficiency, risk fading into the sea of premium brands. Beautiful, but empty. Seductive, but soulless. Technically flawless, but emotionally mute.

Consumption itself is changing under this pressure. We no longer simply buy a product or its story. We buy the way in which that story was created. The process becomes a selling point. A behind-the-scenes look serves as proof of authenticity. The ‘making-of’ is sometimes worth more than the campaign itself, because it reveals the human touch behind the perfection. A form of “conscious consumption” is emerging, one that values time, intention and creative craftsmanship. Consumers want to feel that a human touch has guided what they are looking at. They want to believe that a genuine emotion has found its way into the creative process. That someone, somewhere, has put their heart and soul into what they are about to desire.

Cultivating humanity as the ultimate luxury

The future is therefore not a contest between humans and machines. This dichotomy is a false debate. AI can enhance creativity, provided it is guided, not imposed upon us. It can become an extension of the imagination, a tool for exploration rather than a content factory. But on one non-negotiable condition: that humans remain in control. That they decide. That they feel. That they ask the essential question: what is worth creating? What carries enough emotion, enough soul, to justify its existence in a world that is already saturated?

Because advertising has never been an exact science. It is a dialogue, an encounter, a thrill. A moment when time stands still to give rise to an emotion. Brands that forget this aspect will lose what made them unique. Agencies that prioritise speed over sincerity will become empty shells.

Luxury, for its part, has always known how to cultivate the rare. From now on, it will have to cultivate the human touch. Not as a form of nostalgia, but as a luxury in its own right. For true luxury, today, no longer lies in the object itself. It lies in the act of creating it, in the emotion it evokes, in the dream it inspires. In this human presence - sensitive, imperfect - that gives a creation its soul.

Dreams are not generated. They are cultivated. With time, sensitivity and emotion. Consumers know this. They seek it. They demand it. Brands must remember: what they sell has value only if it contains a measure of humanity. What they create will only resonate if it carries genuine emotion. What they tell will only leave a mark if it vibrates with a real soul.

In a world where everything can be generated, soul becomes the ultimate luxury. And that soul—no algorithm can produce it. It cannot be optimised, calculated or automated. It is cultivated, patiently, humanely. It is the last bastion of creativity. Its irreplaceable essence. Its raison d’être.