“Hey, someone on TikTok is saying we can get dupes of these popular workout clothes made in the very same factory,” a friend once shared. Another thing I’ve heard is, “Let me just get the dupe first to see how much I like it. I’ll get the actual thing if I really like it.” Well, well, well. Rather than counterfeits being passed off as the real McCoy to deceive consumers, dupes seem to have found their own space in the marketplace, and also finding their way into mainstream dialogue and conversations.
Given the economic downturn and the general state of fatigue that consumers are experiencing with constant price hikes (luxury goods prices in Europe have increased by 52 per cent since 2019, according to an HSBC report in 2024), it is no surprise that people are recognising a need to “shop smart” when it comes to fashion. There is less desire to splurge on what could be considered non-essential after priorities shifted and post-pandemic reserves are quickly running dry. The question is: can dupes emulate the essence of what inspired them?
The truth is that fashion has always been an industry that has thrived on aspiration. What we are experiencing now is the reckoning of how much we are willing to pay to materialise fragments of said aspirations. What does living this dream look like in the Instagram, TikTok and RedNote (小红书) era? A content creator once told me, “I don’t need to own these pieces. Having already worn them, albeit loaned, in a photo carries the same idea, whether or not they sit in my wardrobe.” The paradox of a curated photo dump, the nonchalance of a lowercase caption post-group chat approval, and a tasteful soundtrack to back — all orchestrate a performance of studied casualness. Who is going to police whether you actually finished the Durga Chew-Bose book you once saw Bella Hadid reading by a pool? While we observe others through an LED panel and listen through our phones’ built-in speakers, we have no way of interacting with the garments worn on their backs. If it is meant to be merely a prop, will there still be a need to commit to the original sources of our aspirations when dupes can potentially achieve the same look and feel? Between something “made-just-fine” and something claimed to be immaculately crafted, the unique selling point for craftsmanship becomes all the less alluring for the generation keen on newness. For them, this is a form of newness that is especially easy to emulate and project within the confines of their phone screens and virtual selves.
The need for newness has always been the backbone of this industry and culture at large. What has changed has just been the speed of the chase, exacerbated by the social media landscape that has even driven its core audience of Gen Zs to the point of fatigue in recent reports. When it comes to pursuing a certain aesthetic — say the look of woven leather — one might prefer Dragon Diffusion’s Bamboo Triple Jump Woven Leather Tote over Bottega Veneta’s Intrecciato Tote Bag due to the sheer accessibility, as both achieve similar looks. If the purchase was more ergonomically and functionality-led, then the latter’s inclusion of straps that lay flat against the shoulder, a zip closure and leather lining would become factors of consideration.
Debuting on its Spring/Summer ’23 runway, Miu Miu’s cargo-style Pocket Bag has since introduced an entire trend of military-inspired details in accessories. It also draws parallels between other popular options like Acne Studio’s Multipocket Bag and Korean label Margesherwood’s Outpocket Hobo, all sharing similar details that feature external pockets, albeit executed differently. Once the impression is set that the design seems more trend-driven than being a classic, it becomes easy to throw out phrases such as, “Just get it when you visit Korea. They’ve got something similar at the Seongsu outlet.”
However, does a dupe by another make smell as sweet? While major driving factors towards the need for dupes are pricing and accessibility, to boil down the consideration of whether dupes can offer a similar emotional appeal is to negate brand equity at play. “I see fashion as 30 per cent product and 70 per cent marketing,” a merchandising manager once told me. On the aforementioned aspiration, what is proprietary and impossible to replicate exactly are the century-long prestige, storytelling, celebrity endorsements and Steven Meisel-lensed campaigns. It becomes evident when non-fashion parents still recall Princess Diana wearing Jimmy Choos, associating the Fendi Baguette with Sex and The City, and Lady Gaga’s meat dress. Although sharing similar trend-led designs, brands that sell within a similar luxury price range will not achieve the same reaction and outcome as their image.
Riding on the bowling bag trend made popular by Alaïa’s Le Teckel bag, the impression made by the Prada Bonnie and the Balenciaga Carrie are starkly different, made possible by the brand narrative each label possesses. The question is, would you group these as dupes? The irreverent, tongue-in-cheek attitude that Balenciaga has consistently portrayed has made releases like the Rodeo and Bel Air, reminiscent of the serious, equestrian-inspired Hermès bags, feel almost satirical in spirit and congruent with its brand statement.
To express and to be seen is to be human. Across the ways we find our community, signal kinship and authenticity through constantly evolving manners, the need to perform persists and will continue to do so. We find ways to make it happen within our means. The goal was never to boil down the discourse to a monolithic idea that expensive means bad and cheap is superior.
“Expensive is a product which is not delivering what it is supposed to deliver, but you’ve paid quite a large amount of money for it, and then it betrays you,” explains Hermès’ artistic director, Pierre-Alexis Dumas. The impression that things are considered expensive could simply be a dissonance between the value ascertained, perceived and contextualised within life’s other priorities, especially during uncertain times such as these. Between dupes from other luxury labels or priced-down contemporary options, all signs point towards a consumer-led landscape rather than a brand-led one. At the same time, could the phenomenon also urge a shift in mindset to forgo the mindless pursuit of newness but usher in a need for something that lasts?
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