After months of speculation, Louis Vuitton finally unveiled its highly anticipated collaboration with Supreme at Men’s Fashion Week in Paris last Thursday, a moment that should’ve been celebratory for dedicated fans of the cult streetwear label like me—only it wasn’t. Getting the stamp of approval from one of the most storied fashion houses on the planet was undoubtedly a milestone for the New York City brand, and yet the clothes seemed more geared toward high-rolling hypebeast types than the young skater kids who first put the label on the map. It all left me wondering, had Supreme lost its cool?

I won’t deny it—I was a latecomer to the Supreme party. I discovered it in my early 20s, while working as an editor at a society magazine based in New York, a good decade after it had launched in 1994. Back then, my working wardrobe consisted of natty suits, cozy cable-knit sweaters, and more khakis than I could count, which was offset by a slightly edgier off-duty style. Supreme’s box logoed hats, hoodies, and tees in fresh colors—shirts featuring Kate Moss, Kermit the Frog, or Neil Young, and slogans like “F*** you, we do what we want”—were a boon. Snagging a satin baseball cap with the Playboy bunny, a snow-white dojo jacket, and an Antihero hoodie were all major coups for my wardrobe, too.

In truth, it’s fashion-obsessed folk like me, who readily mix their designer labels with streetwear ones, who are partly responsible for all of this. I can raise my hand and say that I was photographed outside a show during New York Fashion Week with a Supreme logo sticker slapped across my Birkin bag. Where my non-fashion friends were horrified that I would vandalize one of my most prized possessions, my colleagues loved my cheeky high-low accessorizing. As author Mary Tannen noted in her story for Vogue in the March 1995 issue, Supreme’s approach to design wasn’t too far off from the streetwise look of high fashion at the time; Chanel offered bouclé versions of Supreme’s signature baseball caps, and the craze for logomania was at an all-time high on the runway.

Reading this piece for the first time, when it was reprinted in Rizzoli’s compendium of the skate label in 2010, was somewhat of a revelation for me. Back then, Supreme was teaming up with skate-friendly lines including DC and Vans, and artists such as Damien Hirst and Malcolm McLaren, and these under-the-radar projects quietly raised the label’s profile. Since then, the list of Supreme collaborations has grown exponentially, with mainstream brands such as Levi’s and Brooks Brothers all welcomed into the club. It’s a trend that has been taken to new levels by fashion collective du jour Vetements, who count Juicy Couture and Canada Goose as partners.

Now don’t get me wrong—the clothes that spring from these collaborations are all highly covetable. In fact, the online buzz for them can push the value up fivefold on the resale market—the Supreme x The North Face puffers that sold for about $400 at retail now go for around $2,000 on eBay, for example. With the price point for the new Louis Vuitton x Supreme collection reaching well into the thousands, it’s difficult to imagine what downtown cool kid will be able to afford it. And trying to picture the New York skaters who hang out on 12th Street and Avenue A with monogrammed decks under their feet is almost impossible. And though it is impressive that Supreme has managed to extend the short lifespan of cool for so many years, something few streetwear brands have been able to do, it feels like this latest move could signal the end. I, for one, am ready to put my best Supreme finds into storage.