I once believed that style honesty and craftsmanship were enough to build a brand. That belief didn’t collapse in flames but faded slowly and quietly as I watched my vision struggle to survive without the armor of PR celebrity endorsements or editorial anointment. Like many creators drawn to the raw elegance of leather I was captivated by the idea of authenticity in an age of mass-produced hype.

Before TANNER LEATHERSTEIN made his mark by slicing through GUCCI totes and FENDI bags with scalpel-like precision I was already on the same path. He exposed the plastic cores and cynical markups while I lived them firsthand. I tried to build something different. With my partner Coco I started CRIS & COCO a small leather goods brand born from post 9/11 grit and stitched in Brooklyn. We made bags not for status but for style and substance.

But what we made didn’t matter because in the world of luxury quality is invisible without the right narrative. We weren’t part of the fashion machine. There were no runways no museum collaborations no high-profile stylists flaunting our designs on red carpets. In a marketplace driven by myth and access our truth had no currency.

In 2007 we moved production to GUANGZHOU. There factories offered astonishing technical precision. But they didn’t want vision they wanted instructions. They handed us CELINE lookbooks and YSL silhouettes asking which logo to stamp. Originality wasn’t part of the process it was an inefficiency they couldn’t justify.

And why should they care about originality They weren’t villains. They were survivors in an industry where creativity doesn’t scale. They had seen dreamers like me before. We offered custom designs and fair wages but the system favored replicas. They knew that customers didn’t want something new. They wanted what they already recognized and trusted.

The Invisible Brand

The harshest truth I learned is that luxury isn’t sold on craftsmanship it’s sold on permission. Gatekeepers like LVMH KERING and RICHEMONT don’t just sell handbags. They sell access validation and myth. Without their blessing your work might be excellent but it’s illegible to the market.

The Semiotics of Scarcity

Luxury is not about function. It’s about meaning. That three thousand dollar bag doesn’t carry your essentials it carries your identity. As Roland Barthes suggested luxury is language. When you hold a CHANEL or HERMÈS you’re not holding leather. You’re holding symbolism stitched into scarcity and whispered through editorial pages.

A Shenzhen leather artisan at work bridging the gap between replica and real.

Can Tanner’s Dream Survive the System

TANNER LEATHERSTEIN’s message is powerful celebrate the maker destroy the illusion own your narrative. But in an industry engineered to ignore the unaffiliated his dream feels more poetic than practical. Talent alone cannot breach the luxury fortress not without capital connections and cultural consent.

Why We Still Craft

CRIS & COCO may never land on the pages of VOGUE or walk the MET GALA carpet. But we still create quietly beautifully and often invisibly. Because in a world intoxicated by logos making something with meaning still matters.

There’s hope in every stitch and story. Maybe one day luxury will no longer be about who tells the story but how truthfully it’s told. Until then we keep crafting even if no one is watching.

Luxury handbags are not just accessories—they are a carefully engineered addiction. The industry thrives on one core principle: the more difficult it is to obtain, the more people want it. It’s a psychological trick as old as time, yet we keep falling for it, swiping our credit cards with the conviction of someone making a wise “investment.”

Brands like HERMÈS, CHANEL, and LOUIS VUITTON don’t just sell bags; they sell an aspiration. A BIRKIN isn’t just a handbag; it’s a status trophy, a whispered declaration that you are part of an elite club of people who can afford to pay five figures for a leather rectangle. Through manufactured scarcity, celebrity endorsements, and price hikes that would make an economist weep, these brands have perfected the art of making a simple pouch with straps feel like a passport to another social class.

So, why do we keep playing their game? Why are people willing to endure waitlists, grovel to sales associates, and even pay over retail just to get their hands on these bags? Let’s break it down: luxury handbags are not just about fashion—they are about the illusion of exclusivity, social validation, and the primal human urge to own something others can’t.

First, there’s artificial scarcity. You can’t just walk into an HERMÈS store and buy a Birkin. No, that would be too easy. Instead, you must build a “purchase history”—meaning, you must spend tens of thousands on scarves, belts, and other accessories before they even consider offering you a bag. It’s retail gatekeeping at its finest.

Then, there’s the illusion of superiority. A CHANEL Classic Flap is not just a purse; it’s a social signal that whispers (or screams) to the world, “I belong to an elite group that can afford to drop $10,000 on a handbag that used to cost $2,000 a decade ago.” The irony? The bag hasn’t changed—just the price.

WHEN LOGIC DIES: THE PRICING STRATEGY OF LUXURY BAGS

Luxury handbag prices aren’t based on materials or craftsmanship—they’re based on how much pain customers are willing to endure to obtain them.

Take CHANEL, for example. The CHANEL CLASSIC FLAP once cost $2,850 in 2010. Today? That same bag is priced at over $10,000, despite no significant changes in its materials or production methods. What caused this astronomical increase? Brand strategy, not quality.

By inflating prices and creating artificial supply constraints, luxury brands cultivate the idea that their bags are assets, similar to stocks or real estate. People justify the absurd costs by claiming these bags “retain value,” but let’s be honest—while some rare BIRKINS appreciate in value, most handbags lose 30-50% of their worth the moment they leave the store.

SHOP CRIS & COCO

THE STATUS SYMBOL TRAP

If everyone can have it, does it even feel exclusive anymore? That’s why brands ensure luxury bags remain just out of reach.

Exclusivity is the real product being sold. The idea that owning a LOUIS VUITTON Neverfull somehow makes you part of an elite club is the exact reason thousands of people line up to buy it—even though it’s mass-produced and made of coated canvas, not even full leather. But as long as not everyone can afford it, it remains a symbol of prestige.

A shopper holding a luxury handbag with an eye-watering total.

IS IT REALLY AN INVESTMENT? (SPOILER: NO)

The idea that handbags are financial assets is one of the most brilliant marketing lies ever created.

Sure, some bags, like certain HERMÈS Birkin, have seen resale values skyrocket. But for every record-breaking auction sale, there are thousands of bags sitting in closets, depreciating faster than a new car. The reality? Most luxury bags are not investments—they’re indulgences. The only people truly profiting from this narrative are the brands themselves and resellers flipping bags to desperate buyers.

THE FINAL STITCH: WHY WE KEEP FALLING FOR IT

Luxury handbags are the ultimate status symbols, but at the end of the day, they remain just bags. Beautiful? Yes. Necessary? No. Yet, we continue to chase, spend, and justify—because that’s what branding does best.

Owning a HERMÈS Birkin or a CHANEL Classic Flap won’t make you better, richer, or more important. But it will prove one thing: luxury brands have perfected the art of making you desperate for leather—and we keep falling for it, one overpriced handbag at a time.