Let us bask in the extravagant tragedy that is the demise of fashion collaboration. Enter stage left: ADIDAS x GUCCI, BALENCIAGA x GUCCI, GUCCI x THE NORTH FACE, DIOR x STÜSSY, NIKE x TIFFANY, LOUIS VUITTON x NIKE, MIU MIU x NEW BALANCE… Les pièces de résistance of uninspired logo swapping. The sound of thousands of champagne corks popping in PR offices echoes through the air as the very fabric of creativity weeps into the corner.
NIKE x TIFFANY
The two self-appointed titans of luxury engage in an elaborate dance, their logos fluttering about like two peacocks fighting over a cracker.
In this grand masquerade, the two self-appointed titans of luxury engage in an elaborate dance, their logos fluttering about like two peacocks fighting over a cracker. One can almost see the boardroom of executives, draped in scarves they can’t pronounce and sunglasses large enough to be rebranded as satellite dishes, making a unanimous decision to say ‘yes’ to mediocrity. Ah, the effortless symphony of branding with the artistic integrity of a potato.
ADIDAS x GUCCI
The art of collaboration has been reduced to the act of slamming logos together with all the grace of a toddler mashing Play-Doh.
But let us not limit our discerning gaze to just these two exemplars of haute couture. Let us paint with a broad brush upon the canvas of luxury fashion collaborations. For you see, dear reader, in this golden age of everything and nothing, where identities are as fluid as the consistency of the ever-changing Frappuccinos at Starbucks, the art of collaboration has been reduced to the act of slamming logos together with all the grace of a toddler mashing Play-Doh.
Here we stand, at the majestic precipice of postmodernism’s twilight, where the boundaries that once sparked creativity through opposition are now as blurred as the vision of our executives as mentioned above at an open bar. In this new world of unity and sameness, where everything is perpetually remixed into a homogenous and flavorless smoothie, collaborations of yore have lost their luster.
Welcome to the post-collaboration epoch, where the only thing being woven together with any care is the illusion of innovation.
“Dare to be different!” is whispered through the halls of fashion schools, only to be trampled upon by the stilettos of an industry hell-bent on replicating success through the ingenuity of an amoeba. Welcome to the post-collaboration epoch, where the only thing being woven together with any care is the illusion of innovation.
In memory of collaborations past, we light a scented candle (Gucci fragrance, naturally) and don the black Gilden hoodie – the shroud of creativity’s ghost. Here lie the remnants of what could have been, now only serving as a harbinger of clearance sales and Instagram influencers whose bios boast “as seen in Vogue.” Requiescat in pace.
In a world overtaken by Gucci-sliding Instagram influencers, we now witness the epochal clash of titans – the billionaire class seeking refuge in street credibility.
The glittering sword they chose to wield? LOUIS VUITTON’s spectacular soirée on the Pont Neuf in Paris, where the Seine river practically swirled with jealousy at the opulence above. With Pharrell Williams at the helm, a prodigious musician and an ordained priest of luxury fashion, LOUIS VUITTON has set sail on its voyage to plunder street cred.
Jay-Z, Beyoncé, Rihanna, and others strutted alongside LOUIS VUITTON-branded warhorses, turning the event into something that would make the Great Gatsby himself feel underdressed.
One must appreciate the desperation behind Arnault’s master plan to ship the entire hip-hop Pantheon to Paris. In this breathtaking carnival of excess, Jay-Z, Beyoncé, Rihanna, and others strutted alongside LOUIS VUITTON-branded warhorses, turning the event into something that would make the Great Gatsby himself feel underdressed. The so-called “LOUIS VUITTON Menswear Debut,” as described by The Cut, resembled a Wall Street gala attempting to pass as a Brooklyn block party.
Rihanna and ASAP Rocky
This spectacle, in which Pharrell, the newly appointed creative director, paraded his urban street essence, seemed to whisper to the world, “LV is for Lovers, and the Billionaire next door.” The irony of a man singing “Happy” at an event soaked in the tears of consumers lamenting their credit card bills is awe-inspiring.
A Jeep convertible stacked with luggage driven down the catwalk was perhaps an accidental metaphor for how detached the brand is from reality.
According to Cathy Horyn’s coverage, this men’s fashion show was “confident but without audacity.” When Pharrell quipped, “When you’re chosen, you’ve just got to ride,” he probably didn’t anticipate that he would be riding a Trojan Horse into the realm of fashion. His designs were found to lack novelty and imagination, giving us Damier-checked sportswear and pixelated camouflage patterns. A Jeep convertible stacked with luggage driven down the catwalk was perhaps an accidental metaphor for how detached the brand is from reality. The event resembled a cross between the opening ceremony of the Olympics and an extraterrestrial peace treaty.
You shall lead us to street credibility.” Yes, dear reader, in the billionaire playbook, street cred is a currency more valuable than Bitcoin.
Pharrell’s appointment has, of course, raised eyebrows; his prior experience in fashion amounted to a pair of sunglasses and some Adidas sneakers. Yet the billionaire class behind Louis Vuitton gazed upon Pharrell and proclaimed, “You shall lead us to street credibility.” Yes, dear reader, in the billionaire playbook, street cred is a currency more valuable than Bitcoin.
Beyoncé and Jay-Z
Now, don’t get me wrong. Pharrell is a master of his craft in the music industry, but serving as the high priest of a luxury cult trying to become a street movement raises questions. And this ‘street movement’ is selling handbags priced like tiny islands.
The clothes seemed an afterthought as the audience was probably too busy Googling “how to become a billionaire overnight” to buy them.
Lauren Cochrane writes in The Guardian that the event was not just a catwalk show; it was “a celebrity showcase, a gig, and a party, with clothes thrown in for good measure.” The clothes seemed an afterthought as the audience was probably too busy Googling “how to become a billionaire overnight” to buy them.
Louis Vuitton’s approach to selling overpriced, mass-manufactured luxury items under the veil of street credibility, employing a grand maestro of the music world, seems akin to a swan performing a breakdance. It’s bewildering, if not mildly entertaining.
As the world of luxury gallops into an era where authenticity is the Holy Grail, let us ask ourselves, do we want to watch the wealthy in snapbacks, or would we rather have art, music, and fashion untainted by the clutches of industrialized excess?
Being drawn to the allure of e-commerce can feel like an endless holiday season, especially when you know which influencers to follow. This was my foray into online shopping, alluringly displayed through YouTube.
These early influencers, talented in their capacity to ramble, soon discovered that fostering a shopping addiction in their followers could lead to a fruitful career. As they grew in popularity, so did their collections, filling entire closets, dressers, and more.
In a way, they set the stage for the modern luxury industrial complex, using their influence to draw followers into purchasing upscale items often beyond their needs.
In 2014, over 50 million people spent an astonishing 1.6 billion minutes watching haul videos. With the emergence of platforms like TikTok, this trend transcended the exclusive world of career influencers, pulling in celebrities and children alike. Larger hauls gained more attention, and our shopping habits and the marketing strategies targeting them grew more extravagant.
The luxury industrial complex feeds off this, capitalizing on perceived scarcity and manipulative designs to coax users into impulsive buying.
While this culture of influencers-turned-luxury promoters grew, brands took notice. It became apparent that showcasing their products on social media turned users into eager online luxury shoppers. This realization led to the intertwining of e-commerce and every corner of the internet. The result? By 2016, 76% of Americans had embraced online shopping, compared to 22% in 2000. The world of online shopping continues to expand, with social-media shopping projected to be worth $1.2 trillion by 2025. The luxury industrial complex feeds off this, capitalizing on perceived scarcity and manipulative designs to coax users into impulsive buying.
We hope our purchases, particularly luxury items, will bring some value to our lives if only a fleeting thrill.
Social media platforms are thus riddled with laments about too much stuff, insufficient funds, and unfulfilled desires. We hope our purchases, particularly luxury items, will bring some value to our lives if only a fleeting thrill. Yet, we often view them as a regrettable waste of our resources.
Today, platforms like TikTok are brimming with haul videos that are as audacious as they are self-aware. The hashtag #shoppingaddiction, boasting over 300 million views, is ironically laden with haul videos, including luxury shopping sprees. Often used humorously, the term “shopping addiction” is used genuinely by many self-identified shopping addicts.
The sheer number of #shoppingaddiction videos, and the prevalent theme of overconsumption in these videos, underscore a critical issue in today’s society. Overconsumption is an uncontrolled coping mechanism commonplace in our world, causing devastating effects on our planet. The U.N. attributes the triple planetary crises of climate change, biodiversity loss, and pollution, in part, to overconsumption.
We’re nudged to improve ourselves continually, portray a better image, and purchase the correct luxury goods to ascend to a more desirable self.
Social media and shopping are intertwined, shaping our identities. We’re nudged to improve ourselves continually, portray a better image, and purchase the correct luxury goods to ascend to a more desirable self. The rise of the luxury industrial complex amplifies this, encouraging us to buy more than we need and often more than we can use.
This cycle is perpetuated by the integration of shopping and commerce into social media platforms, which, in turn, catalyzes overconsumption. Despite this, Americans are finding themselves with less disposable income. This situation has given rise to cultures such as ‘dupe’ culture and a thriving second-hand luxury market, which underscore the desire to make every dollar count.
As social media platforms continue to promote consumerism, we risk becoming a society increasingly driven by the illusion of luxury.
Unchecked shopping addictions and the increasingly pervasive luxury industrial complex have created a concerning cycle. As social media platforms continue to promote consumerism, we risk becoming a society increasingly driven by the illusion of luxury.
The Holy Grail of handbags is the Birkin from HERMÈS. After all, it is worn daily by its namesake and travels everywhere.
What makes Birkin’s HERMÈS Birkin truly exceptional, though, is the condition it’s in—which is to say, not much of a condition at all: Stickers from her adventures are unceremoniously slapped onto the leather; the exterior’s roughed up; talismans hang from the handle.
A Birkin bag is a perfect rain hat; just put everything else in a plastic bag” is only the first.
Birkin, however, has owned only four Birkins since Jean-Louis Dumas named it after her in 1984. (She’s donated the last two to charity auctions as well.) She is a religious wearer—so much so that the bag sometimes serves as an extension of her physical self. One rainy afternoon in Paris, just before hopping in a taxi, Birkin rang up Vogue with her thoughts on her sartorial legacy. “A Birkin bag is a perfect rain hat; just put everything else in a plastic bag” is only the first.
On personalization: “There’s no fun in a bag if it’s not kicked around so that it looks as if the cat’s been sitting on it—and it usually has. The cat may even be in it! I always put on stickers and beads and worry beads. You can get them from Greece, Israel, Palestine—anywhere in the world. I always hang things on my bags because I don’t like them looking like everyone else’s.”
I hate changing bags, so I never have the thing of having ten bags.
On restraint: “I never have more than one bag at a time. I think one is already quite enough. Also, I hate changing bags, so I never have the thing of having ten bags. Any bag with me will take the same course as mine. It will take the same airplanes, be squashed in the same way, and be used as a cushion in the airports.”
On the Birkin she’s carrying now: “It’s black, but it’s not dirty enough, and it hasn’t gotten any stickers on it. It’s rather bumpy than the other one, but the surface will soon get scratched about.”
What she carries in her Birkin: “I’ve got my agenda, my phone, photos of all the children [daughters Kate Barry, Charlotte Gainsbourg, and Lou Doillon], and my makeup, which is all upside down. It’s the nice mess that I always like.”
But if people want to go for the real thing, fine. If they go for copies, that’s fine too. I don’t think it matters.”
On the popularity of the Birkin—both real and fake: “It’s very nice that everyone’s got one or wants one. I keep saying to Hermès to make it out of plastic or, even more fun, make it out of cardboard. Then it wouldn’t be so heavy. But if people want to go for the real thing, fine. If they go for copies, that’s fine too. I don’t think it matters.”
On handing them down: “My daughter Lou does not have one. I think it would be a horrible thing to have a Birkin bag from your mother.”
Can you discern a $10,000 CHANEL bag from a $200 imitation? The truth is, hardly anyone can, causing a massive upheaval in the luxury fashion industry.
I recently found myself strolling through the streets of Paris with a counterfeit CELINE handbag draped over my shoulder. In France, a nation that takes pride in its fashion heritage, the penalties for counterfeiting are strict, with possible consequences including three years in prison for merely carrying my seemingly innocuous knockoff. Yet, my bag’s inauthenticity was virtually indistinguishable. I harbored a thrilling, maddening secret: my bag appeared identical to the genuine article in both design and quality. It was, however, deemed fake and deceitful.
My journey into the realm of exceptionally realistic counterfeit handbags, known as “super fakes” to frustrated fashion brands and intellectual property attorneys, or “reps” to their ardent purchasers, began a couple of years prior during an impulsive moment. It was early 2021 when I was drawn to an advertisement featuring Kaia Gerber clutching a CELINE Triomphe, a simple, tiny rectangular bag with a seemingly outrageous $2,200 price tag.
As a first-generation immigrant, I was determined not to be someone who coveted luxury handbags. However, I succumbed to temptation and began searching for affordable CELINE Triomphe options.
As a first-generation immigrant, I was determined not to be someone who coveted luxury handbags. However, during the seemingly endless days of quarantine, I succumbed to temptation and began searching for affordable CELINE Triomphe options. This led me to a Reddit community of replica bag aficionados who shared information about “trusted sellers” offering CHANEL 2.55, LOEWE Puzzle, or HERMÈS Birkin replicas indistinguishable from the real thing at just a fraction of the retail price.
These astounding replicas originated in China, where a new breed of counterfeit bags has emerged in the last decade, boasting impeccable quality and evading customs effortlessly. These superfakes can deceive even the most discerning eye, leading to a vast and pervasive issue in the luxury fashion world. According to Hunter Thompson, who oversees authentication at luxury consignment site The RealReal, “It’s gotten to the point that you can see something in season replicated within that season.”
With consumers facing rampant inflation, the allure of a $100 replica of a $10,000 HERMÈS Birkin is hard to resist.
Superfakes have become a massive market fueled by the pandemic, stimulus-check spending, and social media platforms like Instagram. With consumers facing rampant inflation, the allure of a $100 copycat of a $10,000 handbag is hard to resist. The challenge of addressing duplication in fashion is a complex one. While design houses spend billions combatting counterfeits, even authentic luxury bags like PRADA Cleos and DIOR Book Totes are produced using machines and templates, begging the question: what truly distinguishes a genuine bag from a fake? Is it simply about who profits from the sale? As the world of super fakes evolves, the lines between authentic luxury and these hyperrealistic replicas become increasingly blurred.
The market for replica luxury bags and superfakes is thriving, with shoppers eager to find a good deal on designer-inspired items. In China, where many of these counterfeit products are made, millions of people are involved in producing and distributing these bags. Guangzhou is considered the epicenter of super fakes production, with bag-making technology and skilled artisans contributing to their rapid proliferation.
The production of superfakes is often reliant on high-quality materials and craftsmanship, with some manufacturers sourcing materials from the same suppliers as luxury brands.
These counterfeit operations have adapted to avoid detection, utilizing a fragmented supply chain that makes it difficult to track and dismantle. The production of super fakes is often reliant on high-quality materials and craftsmanship, with some manufacturers sourcing materials from the same suppliers as luxury brands. Chinese authorities have little incentive to shut down these operations, as they benefit local economies and enjoy support from some consumers who see replica bags as a more accessible alternative to high-end fashion.
As the quality of counterfeit luxury bags improves, there is a growing sense of subversion among those who embrace them.
Though experts claim that there are always subtle differences between superfakes and genuine luxury bags, some admit that discerning can be challenging. As the quality of counterfeit luxury bags improves, there is a growing sense of subversion among those who embrace them, challenging the dominance of luxury brands and their exclusive pricing. Replica bags have become a symbol of the democratization of fashion, particularly for middle-class consumers who feel empowered by having access to these sought-after items.
In the face of global wealth disparity, attitudes towards fake bags are shifting, with some arguing that they represent a more accessible and honest approach to luxury fashion. Pursuing designer bags and their superfake counterparts continues to spark debate and challenge conventional notions of value and authenticity.
