Why some high-end labels have considerably lost their over-sold, over-spread, over-loved shine
The enduring popularity and prevalence of the Gucci monogram, everywhere. Here, the Ophidian Small Messenger . Photo: AB Tan
By Ray Zhang
A recent image, blown up to be larger than life-sized, truly had me thinking. I was at the Paragon; I walked past a Gucci Store, and caught sight of a massive lightbox by the side of the main entrance. It featured the Chinese actor/singer Sean Xiao Zhan (肖戰), who carried the brand's monogrammed-to-the-hilt Horsebit 1955 crossbody. Nothing unusual in the use of a mainland star or even the appeal-questionable bag. Shot in Milan, the photograph showed Mr Xiao in what would usually be considered an unflattering pose: By the roadside, on a kerb, with a parked car behind him, he squatted. He emanated a tuhao (土豪, or nouveau riche) air, reminding me of the many young chaps taking a cigarette break outside eateries in any Chinese city. It was not, to me, a fashion pose (assuming there is such a thing). Gucci was clearly targeting a particular customer, one for whom 不雅观 (bu ya guan or inelegant and distasteful) is meaningless.
Xiao Zhan has become what in China is known as the "顶流巨星 (dingliu juxing, or top-tier star)", based on popularity and screen appeal than acting chops. This was especially so after the 2019 Hunan Television series 招摇 (zhaoyao) or, in English, The Legends. He is another pretty face that brands increasingly gravitate to, whether selecting stars from China, Korea, or Thailand. In the same campaign, Mr Xiao posed with the said bag against other backgrounds, including one inside a car, but for some reason, this seemed to be the most used, and shared. Of course, fashion is no longer tethered to deportment, and models—even stars—do or pose as they please, as long as they appear to be charming. But where is the charm or the aspirational factor in squatting? And a bag placed on his crotch?
Chinese star Xiao Zhan squatting for a Gucci campaign, featuring the Horsebit 1955 shoulder bag. Photo: Gucci
Perhaps it's unfair to single out Gucci. The aesthetics of luxury fashion across the sector is being restyled, just as the sophistication they have adopted is being redefined. Brands are teaming children with S&M teddy bears to sell miscellany, putting out cheesy holiday merchandise for tourists, placing footwear on plates and on tables, amid food, all for the sake of popular appeal, of reaching out to the masses so as to widen and deepen the revenue gush. Since ugly is no longer so, ugly is also communicable beauty. With the anything-goes approach, luxury brands, especially their bags, are becoming less appealing, even downright dreary. As as fashion now appeals to 'everyone', the merchandise needs to be modelled by someone executing a 路边蹲 (lu bian dun), or roadside squat.
Not long after I came face to face with Xiao Zhan, I confronted an atrocious set-up that made me wonder—again—luxury's current appeal. It was in a housing estate mall in the east. In the irregular-shaped atrium, there was, as usual, a fair. Among kiosks peddling health supplements and "workmanship free" gold jewellery was one erected by the pawnshop-turn-preloved-luxury-goods-reseller Maxi-Cash. Theirs was an oblong set-up, with glass cabinets on two adjacent sides. In them were four rows of bags and small leather goods from Chanel, Coach, Gucci, Hermés, Louis Vuitton, Miu Miu, and Prada. Framing the cabinets were posters announcing further discounts and free shopping vouchers, augmented the already unmistakable lelong (cheap sale) vibe. A staffer told me that the merchandise "都真的 (dou zhen de) or are all real", and they probably were, but, collectively, they looked, in those flourescent-lit cabinets, no different from bags of clearly dubious authenticity that you might find in Bangkok's Mahboonkrong mall.
Maxi-Cash's atrium sale featured assorted luxury bags of varying fashion value
That fakes are now so prevalent and so acceptable, just as squatting or sitting with one's legs up on the chair opposite in Starbucks is, creates another dent to the appeal of luxury bags for me. It is made worse by the rise of the "superfakes"—"high-quality" dupes that are apparently so "flawlessly" produced they can deceive even the most discerning eye. Such bags, including the less superlative counterfeits, are now believed to constitute an astonishing 2.5% of global trade, accord to the Organisation for Economic Co-operation and Development (OECD). The better-made, once called "Grade A", are not sold in markets or crammed shipping malls, as they were in the past. These days, there are websites and Instagram pages that offer them (they shall not be identified here, since I would not be a purveyor, but if you search on IG even an obvious phrase such as "luxury dupe", your research will be rewarded). As the old joke of the husband telling his wife when the missus asks for a Chanel bag, "okay, I'll look for it on Taobao" goes, which legitimises that shopping option, luxury bags have the allure of mouldy bread.
The ubiquity of luxury bags, intensified by the pervasive ownership of the pseudo, is another bummer for me. Often times, going up an escalator, I quickly spot two (or more) of the same bag carried by people who know not the other. Once, at ION Orchard, I was behind two different women, about two arms' length apart, with the Gucci GG Marmont, with the very conspicuous double fifth letter of the alphabet. A pair on the same side of one escalator is pervasive to me. And not only the monogrammed bags that appear often within striking distance of each other. Other times, I have also seen the YSL Cassandre showing up more than once in less than 15 minutes apart, within a diametre of less than a kilometre, so too the Celine Classic Triomphe and, needless to say, the Chanel Classic Double Flap—virtually the denizen of luxury bags. Accolade, too, to the Louis Vuitton Diane satchel in Monogram canvas and the by-now-copied-to-death Dior Book tote.
By now, the Dior Book tote is so omnipresent that it is hard to know if what one sees is real
The everywhereness of luxury bags inevitably means that to meet demand, brands have to go to extreme lengths to ramp up production. We have all heard about Dior farming out some of their bags to other manufacturers that exploited the latter's staff, who worked under universally acknowledged to be deplorable production and living conditions. The Italian media shared photos of the quarters in which these people—Chinese, both documented and not—slogged. Now, it is hard for me to look at a Dior bag without those images coming to my mind. It does not help that we are now also aware of the mark-ups of the brand's bags. With the Dior exposé, luxury products become unappealing when I am certain (even when I always knew) that pricing is far divorced from production and distribution costs.
Luxury brands' shifting profile has been attributed to changing consumption habits of the young, now the main target audience. In a report by the management consultancy firm Bain & Company, Gen Z consumers will make up nearly a third of luxury consumption by 2030. Yahoo Finance quoted researcher and author (Zconomy: How Gen Z Will Change the Future of Business), Jason Dorsey: "Gen Z appears to be the fastest emerging new generation in luxury because of their current entry into adulthood. While their spending power is still less than other generations it will increase over time. The sooner brands connect with them the greater the opportunity to grow with the generation." Connecting means being relatable. As Gen-Zs have totally different views (or none) on what is socially acceptable, I am sure luxury brands find less restrictions to their marketing approaches. Gucci, therefore, had no objections to seeing their global brand ambassador squat.
Note: With the exception of the Gucci image, it is not possible to ascertained that the bags seen in the other photos are authentic. These are used for illustration purpose only
Photos (except indicated): Zhao Xiangji
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