Not to spoil the surprise, but the very first thing visitors encounter upon arriving to Virgil Abloh: The Codes at the Grand Palais in Paris is a recreation of Colette, which was often considered the most influential store in the world before it closed in 2017. There’s even a miniature white façade, accented with broad windows, signature blue awnings and the double dot logo, that people will pass to reach the wide selection of collectible merch and tchotchkes branded to the max.
Entering an exhibition via the gift shop—typically located at the exit—is exactly the kind of redesign-slash-art installation that its titular subject was known for. But more than a compelling blurring of culture and commerce, Colette is a fitting way to dive into a show as highly anticipated as the slate of designer debuts this week. The beloved retail destination represents a significant signpost in the early days of Abloh’s trajectory, for it was in 2008 that he conceived a T-shirt featuring a medallion made up of the store’s letters outlined in blue that preceded projects such as Pyrex Vision and an even more ambitious brand that would become Off-White.
Colette, according to Abloh’s wife, Shannon Abloh, was also the couple’s first stop whenever they visited the French capital through the early 2000s. “We didn’t even go to the hotel. It was like, ‘Let’s go to Colette and see what’s on the rack and the tables,” she said on the eve of the exhibition opening, which coincides with what would have been the designer’s 45th birthday.
Presented by the Virgil Abloh Archive and Nike, Virgil Abloh: The Codes opens a window wide into his staggering body of work—and yet the roughly 700 items on display are but a fraction of an archive totaling more than 20,000 pieces (stored between two undisclosed facilities in the Midwest).
The archive is founded and led by Shannon along with co-directors Mahfuz and Chloe Sultan, who are based in Los Angeles. The partners met Abloh ten years ago at MoMA, where Chloe had commissioned him to DJ as part of a Yoko Ono performance. Those stories about Abloh encouraging younger people to reach out: Mahfuz is one of them. He had just been accepted to Harvard’s Graduate School of Design and introduced himself in an elevator at the museum. Several projects later, in 2022, one year after Abloh died of a rare cancer, they were curating a show in Miami titled Virgil Abloh: The Codes.
This expanded edition, the first presented in Europe, plays out over 13,350 square feet, with the first floor covered in plush carpet that resembles travertine tiles while giant columns in OSB strand board or paneled in mirrors stretch skyward. There’s a display case filled with external hard drives and dozens of small, randomly-sourced USB keys and large dividing walls that nod to the Mies van der Rohe Pavillion in Barcelona juxtaposed with an Ikea rug and Abloh’s iteration on Jean Prouvé’s Antony Chair for Vitra. And it’s likely not by coincidence that a double-story shelving system has the sleekness of the Chair room at the Vitra Campus or the new V&A Storehouse—both inventories as experience.
The Lowe and Grey Abloh Archive, named after Abloh’s two kids, is sectioned off as pale blue shelving, packed and stacked with T-shirts, ceramics, Chrome Hearts orange traffic cones, LV leather accessories in the form of carrots and lemons, Evian glass water bottles—and scores of other products that went from concept to reality. Mounted in a glass box is a Supreme T-shirt from 2019 designed for Chief Keef but never released, which apparently makes it among the rarest tees in the world.
A feast for the eyes without being pedagogical, the show benefits from contextualizing Abloh’s work in what is now starting to feel like recent history. “I think it s far enough [back] that we can begin to take a historical lens and analyze it as an era,” said Chloe. “We’re biased, but I think so much of fashion has shifted and transformed and that Pyrex moment we consider a generative moment for all of fashion… It feels like yesterday, but also there’s a distance now.”
The Colette T-shirt notwithstanding, nearly every item was produced between 2013-21. Translation: Abloh was insanely prolific. “He was making things very, very quickly,” said Mahfuz. “He was making multiple things at once. He was working on projects for various brands and in multiple mediums all in the same studio. And so sometimes I think if you’re looking at just one product or one project, you’re only seeing a part of the story.”
Upstairs, Abloh’s Pont Neuf studio is reconstructed so that his orange irregular table is filled with papers and samples while the adjacent table boasts his speakers and DJ systems including those produced by Pioneer in transparent casing. There are racks of clothes from his personal collection and a Nike sneaker wall that runs longer than any store display. The 200-plus styles—some never released—will surely be studied, admired and coveted by those who collect and can interpret the minutest details, along with everyone else who simply recognizes them from their cool ubiquity.
“All of us who were extremely close with Virgil thought we knew everything, but there’s just a never-ending, eternal, super mind-blowing prolific output,” said Benji B, who collaborated with Abloh on a multitude of projects, most notably the Louis Vuitton runway soundtracks. “Only with the benefit of retrospect can we look at the work together and see that a) it all makes sense and b) it’s all part of the same conversation.”
Beyond the objects themselves, what comes across most compellingly is Abloh’s notes—the codes in plain view. Sketches bring us closer to when things were work-in-progress; video screens of him DJing remind us of his insatiable energy. The exhibition avoids sentimentality, but it stirs a sense of awe, if not also emotion.
Much like the Japanese subculture of otaku—an obsession for possessing various forms of pop culture— Abloh was an ardent collector of design and fashion. Shannon, for instance, was wearing a vintage Chanel black tweed jacket that he had sourced. He was a dedicated archivist and cultural historian who felt a responsibility to collect and document artifacts and moments. Thus, the What Would Virgil Do question was inevitable for the team, which included Athiththan Selvendran, chief creative officer of the Virgil Abloh Foundation and Michael Abel Deng, who worked with Mahfuz on the design. “We’d imagine what his reaction would be,” said Chloe. “But I think, and this was true when we worked with him, he never wanted you to do exactly what he would do… He wanted you to do what you do.”
Running only until October 9th, the show was intentionally conceived to revive the community energy Virgil fostered during Fashion Week, serving as a large-scale reunion for his friends, family, and collaborators. The programming—talks, workshops, performances televised radio—is being billed as Virgil Abloh: World’s Fair. It will yield discursive conversations and discoveries of his personal interests, which included Paris-specific spots such as Ofr bookshop, Castor Fleuriste and Wild the Moon.
“I don’t think there s been a time in the last four years when the full community and group have been able to get together. And so we were able to pull everyone in and try and be a part of something,” said Shannon. “Everyone has gone through the ups and downs of grief and all differently, and I think we’re just embracing the love and trying to give that back.”
Meanwhile, for anyone wanting to dive even deeper into the codes, midway through the show is a glossy red station of computer terminals dubbed the Nike Media Lab, where visitors can access, remix, and use Abloh s actual design files—nearly a terabyte worth of them. Enticing as an exclusive sweatshirt or VAA x Colette re-edition of the Braun alarm clock may be, anyone can walk away with these files printed out or stored on a USB key. What Chloe referred to as “radical transparency” makes for an altogether different kind of gift shop in the true spirit of Virgil.