Confessions of a Shopaholic in the Age of Dupes

I’ve always loved fashion, and loved shopping even more, the thrill of finding a cool piece that feels special, the rush of bringing it home. But being a shopaholic nowadays feels complicated, especially in an age where “dupes” are taking over. What sparked my spiral of thoughts was a video I stumbled upon that Marcelo Gaia, the founder of the independent brand Mirror Palais shared calling himself “the unpaid R&D department for fast fashion” I felt that it perfectly captured the strange uneasy space fashion is in right now. Imagine spending months sketching, sourcing fabric, perfecting a piece, only to find it snatched and thousands of copies were being sold using your own E-Commerce pictures on TikTok shop. The original becomes almost invisible in a flood of replicas. The rise of dupes isn’t happening in a vacuum, it’s tied to a bigger story of how fashion production shifted over decades. According to an article by the Colorful Bunch, in the 1960s, 95% of what Americans wore was made in the US. Fast forward to today, that number is now down to 3%. That massive outsourcing opened the door for the kind of hyper-fast fashion industry we see today.

When Dupes Steal the Magic: Falling in love with a piece of clothing is so special especially when the design is so intentional. Independent designers like Gaia probably poured months into creating the limited-edition piece only for it to be copied overnight and mass produced. Making something that was supposed to be rare feel disposable. I felt that recently when I wanted to buy this gorgeous white and red polka-dot dress from Réalisation Par. It was dreamy, romantic, and the type of dress I’d forever keep. Unfortunately, at that time the brand wasn’t shipping to the US due to the tariffs imposed (that has since been reversed) so I couldn’t get it.  When I googled it a couple of months after to check if I can buy it, my search returned with page after page of $26 knockoffs, the original is nowhere near that price point, but seeing it reduced to something so cheap by shopping platforms like AliExpress or Shein was lowkey so annoying. It dulled the excitement for me. And if I, as just a shopper, felt a certain way about it, I can’t imagine how the creators must feel watching their work get diluted.  

The Mirage of “Luxury” Fast Fashion: it’s wild how some labels blur the lines between fast fashion and “luxury” aesthetics. Jaded London, for example, markets itself as a bold and edgy label with price tags that would rival mid-tier brands. They do make clothing that looks good, but the quality often mirrors low quality clothing. And they’re not alone, brands like Edikted follow the same formula: bump out trendy pieces, slap an ambitious price tag high enough and rely on social media to sell the illusion of exclusivity. Consumers have posted videos claiming that their Jaded London pieces arrived with Shein labels, and whether from shared factories or wholesale sourcing it underscores the branding over craft problem. It’s all marketing, people are paying for the vibe, not the craftsmanship. I realized this even more after taking a sewing class. Spending hours in the lab just to make a simple garment made me appreciate the sheer amount of patience, precision, and skill that goes into making something worth keeping. The sad part is that many shoppers don’t blink at dropping $200 for a Shein haul but scoff at paying a similar amount to a small designer whose work took months to conceptualize and produce. Some people have become SO used to flimsy, low-quality clothing they can’t recognize real craftsmanship anymore. The baseline is so low that “quality” is now “feels thicker than a Shein top” and that’s the part that make this cycle feel similar to dupes, in both cases, originality and skill get replaced. A dupe sells the shopper an illusion of owning designer without paying for the real thing. A “luxury” fast fashion brand sells you the illusion of exclusivity and quality while using Shein’s business plan.

Dupes vs. Basics: It’s important for me to note that not every piece of clothing counts as a dupe. Don’t get me wrong, I’m not saying shopping at Zara or H&M is evil. There’s a big difference between buying a straight-up plagiarized design and buying a solid color piece. Nobody owns the rights to a plain white tee, a blue shirt, or a cotton cardigan. Basics are staples, and I fully admit and own that I buy some clothes from Zara and H&M. but I try to be careful about what I do buy. Some pieces are actually decent quality, I have a few basics I bought over the years, and they’re still in my rotation. I’m not guilty about it because I didn’t throw it out after three wears. I think it comes down to intention. Am I buying something because I genuinely love it and know it’ll live in my wardrobe for years? Or am I buying it just because it’s a copy-cat of someone else’s hard work? That’s the line I try to stay mindful of. This is not about shaming someone for buying affordable clothes, it’s about recognizing the difference between choosing a basic that fills a gap in my closet and buying a replica that exploits a small creator’s work. It actually reminds me of a friend I had who was a raging klepto. The one thing I respected about her practice was that she never stole from thrift shops or small boutiques, she only stole from CVS or Michael’s. Her logic was literally not to take from the little guy, and I think that the same logic applies here. Buying a TikTok shop “dupe” of a Mirror Palais two-piece set is like walking into your local tiny boutique and stuffing your bag with what’s on their rack. At the end of the day, if you can’t afford the real piece, that’s okay. I want a Fendi baguette bag, but I probably shouldn't drop $1k on a purse so instead I might invest in a handbag from Coach’s Jacquard collection, it gives the same vibe and silhouette but is in a price point that I can realistically justify.

“Luxury” isn’t always Luxury: When you’re dropping $4k on a bag, you expect more than just a logo. You expect to feel special, but many brands have outright admitted they’re focusing only on VIP clients who drops tens of thousands a year, leaving normal every day buyers feel like an afterthought. Problem is, “regular” customer that buy small leather goods, sunglasses, or an entry-level bag are the ones keeping luxury afloat. Many people describe walking into high-end brands’ shops, ready to spend $3k, only to be treated like they’re shoplifters because they aren’t dripping in diamonds from Chopard. On top of all of that, many notice the quality of said brands are declining while prices are soaring by 30-40%. Even McKinsey’s State of Luxury 2025 backs this up with hard data: the luxury sector is facing a slowdown, drive by many factors such as diminished exclusivity, and a seriously weakened value proposition, which only confirms how people have been feeling. Take a pair of Jimmy Choo heels that fall apart after a night out, that’s not luxury that’s an L. When Luxury becomes all status and little substance, the appeal become hollow. McKinsey notes that the decline in luxury value stems partly from overexposure. This mass accessibility sounds good in theory, but really, it’s stripping away what made luxury feel rare and exciting. I don’t want something if literally everyone else is gonna have it. What’s the point? Diluted brand power, and younger shoppers’ consumer behavior are other factors McKinsey noted in the downfall of “luxury” brands.

So, ask yourself… if the quality, service, AND aura are gone. What’s really left other than seeing a negative charge on your credit card and marketing that you fell for.

The Smarter Indulgence: What’s crazy is that people who want “luxury” items can easily find them second-hand or on sale. Platforms like The RealReal, Vestiaire Collective, Cettire, and many others, sell authentic, pre-loved or discounted designer accessible in a way that feels both smarter and more ethical AND you always find the coolest pieces on these platforms. For me, I want to get my paws on the Jacquemus Le Bisou Perle purse. On the “yellow app” I could find a replica for $30, sure. But I could also find the real thing, that Jacquemus actually made, somewhere discounted for under $400, it MSRP’s for $1k. That’s still a splurge, but it’s one I’d feel good about. At the end of the day, it’s just a purse, I can’t justify full price. But treating myself to a piece that was designed with intention, crafted with care. That feels like the luxury in its truest form.

Where the Allure Lies: At the end of the day, the magic of fashion doesn’t live in logos, or trend cycles, or inflated price tags. It’s an art, it’s about intention. It lives in the small, niche designs making one-of-a-kind pieces. Every piece I’ve truly loved are the one that always felt fleeting. The jacket or bag that I knew I had to get right then and there or never see it again. That kind of scarcity paired with intention and detail is what makes fashion enticing to who have eyes to see it. My intention is not to come off snobby, materialistic, or an "elitist" but to show my appreciation for fashion. In my opinion, style comes from how you choose and how you wear it. For me, the magic is in owning something that carries a story that only I get to tell. That’s where the allure lives.  

B