Luxurywashing: Does luxury rhyme with ethics?

If we were to ask those who buy designer clothes worth thousands of euros whether they believe these products are more sustainable, many would likely say yes. The high price is often interpreted as a guarantee of quality, traceability, and respect for labor rights.

However, the recent scandal involving Loro Piana—a historic Italian cashmere brand under investigation for labor exploitation—undermines this belief.

And it’s not an isolated case. Max Mara, Dior, Armani, Valentino are among other luxury brands recently implicated in cases of poor labor conditions. It points to a deeper issue. In this article-podcast, we explore the phenomenon of luxurywashing—the construction of a “green and ethical” image that masks inconsistent practices, even in the luxury sector.

 What are the most common greenwashing tactics used by luxury brands?

• Launching capsules or limited collections (e.g., made from organic or recycled materials), while the core production remains unsustainable.

• Promoting carbon neutrality through offsetting (tree planting, carbon credits) without significantly reducing internal emissions.

• Misleading use of self-declared certifications or partnerships with “eco-like” organizations, which often cover only a tiny fraction of the supply chain. Some certifications are not independent or not applied across the full product line.

• Organizing “green” events (like carbon-neutral fashion shows) to build an image of commitment without altering overall production.

• Investing in sustainability initiatives to boost ESG (Environmental, Social, Governance) scores, while the core business model stays untouched—enhancing a green image without real change.

Data That Debunk the Myth

Antoine Arnault, son of Bernard Arnault, owner of LVMH, publicly stated that luxury goods are “sustainable by nature.” He made this statement at a fashion sustainability summit—but is it true?

A study funded by Primark and conducted by the University of Leeds in collaboration with Hubbub (2022–2024) revealed that luxury garments do not last longer than fast fashion ones. Some of the most expensive items scored from average to poor in durability tests. For instance, a men’s T-shirt priced between £36 and £45 ranked 9th out of 17 items. So price is not a reliable indicator of durability or structural quality.

The Business of Fashion Sustainability Index 2023 gave failing scores to most luxury brands due to a lack of transparency in their supply chains—especially concerning labor conditions, raw material traceability, and waste management. There’s no clear evidence that luxury brands are more sustainable than fast fashion brands. LVMH is not more sustainable than H&M or Inditex (owner of Zara, Pull&Bear, Bershka).

The point isn’t just whether materials are organic or emissions are offset. The issue runs deeper.

Luxury traditionally aligns with extrinsic values like wealth, prestige, and social status—values that speak more to “appearing” than “being.” In contrast, sustainability is rooted in intrinsic values like social justice, respect for the environment, and genuine connection with the natural world. There’s a clear tension between two worldviews: luxury as a symbol of individual success vs. sustainability as a collective commitment to the common good. According to Holmes and Bendell, luxury brands risk contradiction when they try to embrace sustainability: how can they promote moderation, justice, and balance with nature while simultaneously feeding desires tied to power, exclusivity, and privilege?

So when a luxury brand claims to be sustainable, the uncomfortable question becomes: is it really shifting paradigms, or just dressing up old values in green? The risk is that sustainability becomes a tool to reinforce the very extrinsic values it should be challenging.

Thus, luxury remains accessible to a few, while the environmental and social impact falls on the many. Sustainability gets stripped of its authentic meaning—reduced to a marketing tool to ennoble what is far from noble.

The Gap Between Image and Reality

The problem with luxurywashing isn’t just inconsistency—it’s the narrative being crafted. Evocative language, emotional campaigns, “eco” capsules or sustainable limited editions become distractions when the core production remains opaque and sometimes illegal. I remember that during the Sustainable Business Models in the Luxury Sector course, a student presented Loro Piana as an example of a sustainable brand, swayed by online sources praising its positive impact. In the past, Loro Piana was accused of building its sustainable narrative around vicuña (a luxury fiber from a camelid native to the Andes), without offering transparent data on the real socio-environmental impact or benefits returned to the Andean communities involved.

In the Loro Piana case (a brand owned by LVMH), the world’s finest cashmere was sewn by underpaid workers forced to endure exhausting shifts in unsafe environments.

Spending €2,000 on a sweater and discovering that the person who made it earns €4 per hour working up to 90 hours a week calls into question the very meaning of value.

Numerous luxury brands—including Prada, Hugo Boss, and Dolce & Gabbana—were named in a recent Clean Clothes Campaign report on labor conditions in the so-called Euro-Mediterranean textile cluster, an area that includes countries like Croatia, Moldova, and Albania.

The report highlights that in Croatia, for instance, some Hugo Boss suppliers pay wages that amount to just one-third of what would be considered a living wage. A Hugo Boss spokesperson responded by stating that the company requires suppliers to comply with national minimum wage laws. However, they also said that wage negotiations are a matter for local employers, employees, and national institutions—while expressing openness to “constructive dialogue.”

According to the report, Germany and Italy are key destinations for these garments produced in the Euro-Med cluster. It’s not just fast fashion brands like Primark and Tesco sourcing there, but also luxury labels like Versace, Dolce & Gabbana, Armani, and Max Mara.

Clean Clothes Campaign noted that none of the high-end brands mentioned responded officially to the allegations. Hugo Boss, which received an advance copy of the Stitched Up study, did not provide specific statements on its findings (source: The Guardian).

The luxury sector may appear to be outside the system of offshoring production to cut labor costs and boost profits. But behind the façade of craftsmanship, design, quality, uniqueness, and sustainability—prominently displayed in online reports—lie the same factories and the same labor conditions.

Comments on Reddit include statements like:

“”Luxury brands don’t just sell you a product, they sell you an identity. If you admit that this identity is built on exploitation, the whole system collapses.”

“What bothers me the most: if I could afford to pay a markup of several thousand dollars on a bag, I’d want to be absolutely certain that a proportional part of that money goes toward guaranteeing world-class production and labor conditions. (…) At Dior bag prices, there’s just no excuse. (…) That luxury markup should extend to every stage of the production process. (…) Another thing that bothers me: almost all handbag brands, whether luxury or mid-range, have a section on their website dedicated to sustainability initiatives and green certifications for their factories… but VERY few (and almost none among the luxury ones) provide information about ethical working conditions for people.”

The fortress of luxury—behind which brands have hidden choices increasingly similar to fast fashion—is crumbling.

New Rules on the Horizon

The good news is that things are beginning to change. The European Commission is introducing new regulations, such as those from the Green Claims Directive, which will require brands to provide verifiable evidence of their environmental and social claims. It will be harder to hide behind vague slogans or unclear certifications.

In the meantime, reports like the one from BSI (British Standards Institution) suggest that brands must restructure their entire supply chain, not just their communications, if they want to avoid a collapse of consumer trust.

What Can We Do?

As consumers, we have more power than we think. We can:

• Ask for transparency: demand that brands clearly state where and by whom a product was made.

• Rely on independent rating tools (like Good On You).

• Choose second-hand or small brands with short, traceable supply chains.

• Be wary of vague claims like “green,” “eco,” or “responsible” that lack supporting data.

What Kind of Luxury Do We Believe In?

The Loro Piana case is just the latest crack in a system built on the myth of spotless excellence. But excellence without respect for human rights and the environment is just a façade.

There are businesses trying to redefine the meaning of luxury—through slow gestures, conscious craftsmanship, and transparent supply chains. And yet, even they must navigate a system that rewards exclusivity more than justice.

So, what kind of luxury do we believe in?

Perhaps in one that doesn’t need to appear ethical—because it truly is. In the luxury of small brands. The ones that don’t shout, but whisper. Measured not in status, but in time, care, and justice. That don’t promise perfection, but at least try not to build their value on the silence of those sewing in the shadows. There’s a luxury that doesn’t need to seem ethical, because it truly is. Are we ready to recognize it, even if it doesn’t have a famous logo?