Introduction

On 16 May 2026, Audemars Piguet (“AP”), one of Swiss horology’s most fiercely independent luxury houses, launched the “Royal Pop,” an eight-piece bio ceramic pocket watch collection produced in collaboration with the Swatch Group. The launch is simultaneously a marketing masterstroke and a jurisprudential event. It arrives at the precise moment that AP’s decade-long campaign to register the three-dimensional configuration of its iconic Royal Oak as a protectable trademark has collapsed across three jurisdictions, the United States Trademark Trial and Appeal Board (TTAB), the Japan Patent Office and its IP High Court, and the Court of Milan. This article argues that the Royal Pop is not merely a commercial collaboration; it is a deliberate strategic response to the failure of formal IP protection, deploying cross-segment licensing as a substitute for registration and a new trademark architecture as a defensive instrument.

The Royal Oak as IP Asset: Design History

In 1972, AP’s managing director Georges Golay commissioned Gérald Genta, the pre-eminent freelance watch designer of the era, to sketch a luxury steel sports watch overnight, for presentation at the Basel Watch Fair the following morning. [1]The result was the Royal Oak, an octagonal bezel secured by eight exposed hexagonal gold screws, inspired by the brass helmets of Swiss deep-sea divers, integrated into a seamless tapered steel bracelet. Launched at 3,300 Swiss francs, more expensive than a contemporary gold Patek Philippe, the Royal Oak initially baffled the market. Over the following decade, it established an entirely new product category of the luxury sports watch.[2]

A structural tension shapes the design’s IP significance. The Royal Oak is the creation of an identifiable author, sketched in one evening; it has an undeniable artistic personality. Yet Genta’s inspirational sources were explicitly functional. Exposed screws replicate the structural necessity of sealing a diver’s helmet; the octagonal form echoes naval porthole geometry. This tension between artistic originality and functional referentiality would prove legally fatal to AP’s registration campaign.

Genta compounded the problem by designing cognate vocabulary for competitors. The Patek Philippe Nautilus (1976), the IWC Ingenieur SL (1976), and the Cartier Pasha (1985) all deploy integrated bracelets, geometric bezels, and exposed architectural hardware.[3] The result is a crowded field in which no single manufacturer can credibly argue that the design grammar of the luxury sports watch uniquely identifies its source.

The Multi-Jurisdictional IP Collapse

When examining the jurisdictional record, it is necessary to establish the doctrinal standard that governed each proceeding, a standard that Indian trademark law articulates with particular clarity and that is directly relevant to the comparative analysis this article undertakes. Under Sections 9 and 32 of the Trade Marks Act, 1999, a product’s shape cannot be treated as inherently distinctive. It requires proof of acquired distinctiveness through long and exclusive use before it is eligible for registration. The Delhi High Court stated this principle with precision in Knitpro International v. Examiner of Trade Marks (2022)[4], holding that a shape mark must be immediately identifiable with the source of the product by itself, without any accompanying name or logo, and that only shapes which consumers have come genuinely to read as identifying a particular legal entity, rather than as a functional or ornamental feature of the product category, can qualify as trademarks. The court was explicit that generic or functional shapes, however familiar to consumers, cannot serve as source identifiers. The earlier decision in M.R.F. Limited v. Metro Tyres Limited (1990) [5]shows the same court acknowledging the doctrine’s obverse: a distinctive tyre tread pattern had, through sustained and exclusive use, moved sufficiently beyond mere functionality to signal a specific commercial origin in the consumer’s mind, and on that basis warranted protection. Together, these decisions draw the line that every jurisdiction has consistently applied to the Royal Oak’s design, a shape that is generic, functional, or associated in consumer perception with a word mark rather than with the configuration itself will not cross the threshold; a shape that consumers have genuinely learned to read as a brand signal, independent of any textual accompaniment, can. It is against this standard, consistent across the U.S., Japan, Italy, and India, that AP’s multi-jurisdictional record must be assessed.

United States: TTAB (2025)

AP filed two USPTO applications seeking registration of the Royal Oak’s three-dimensional configuration, encompassing the watch face, octagonal bezel, eight hexagonal screws, case, and integrated bracelet. The examiner refused both on grounds of functionality and absence of acquired distinctiveness. Rather than narrowing its claims to the bezel and screwheads, the elements the USPTO found potentially distinctive, AP appealed to the TTAB, seeking protection for the full design system as a unitary mark. In a decision of 2 January 2025, subsequently incorporated into the USPTO’s Trademark Manual of Examining Procedure (TMEP) update of June 2025, the TTAB affirmed the refusal on both grounds.[6] The functionality analysis found that round watch faces are utility-driven and ubiquitous. The distinctiveness analysis delivered the more damaging blow. AP’s own advertising systematically foregrounded the “Audemars Piguet” and “AP” word marks alongside product images, meaning consumers associated the design with a word mark and not the design configuration itself. The TTAB further noted that AP’s catalogues feature Royal Oak variants that lack one or more claimed design elements, thereby precluding proof of a consistent unitary mark.

B. Japan: JPO and IP High Court (2020–2024)

AP filed a Japanese trademark application for the Royal Oak shape in February 2020. The JPO examiner rejected it under Article 3(1)(iii) of the Japan Trademark Law as lacking inherent distinctiveness because the design fell within customary wristwatch shapes. The JPO Appeal Board affirmed in June 2023 and additionally found AP’s secondary-meaning evidence insufficient. Only eleven official stores in Japan, no market share data, and publications that invariably paired the Royal Oak with its word mark. AP’s suit before the Japan IP High Court was dismissed on 28 March 2024.[7] In a separate proceeding decided in October 2024, the JPO dismissed AP’s opposition to registration of the word mark “ROYAL OAK” by a Japanese whisky maker, finding insufficient general consumer recognition, illustrating the limits of an IP strategy that had never penetrated mass-market consciousness.[8]

C. Italy: Court of Milan (2015)

The erosion of AP’s IP position predates these proceedings. In March 2015, the Milan Business Court rejected AP’s preliminary injunction against a domestic start-up selling a Royal Oak-influenced steel sports watch at approximately €150.[9] The Court found that the individual design elements, octagonal bezel, exposed screws, and integrated case form were common across the industry and thus lacked the particularised distinctiveness required for interim relief. The Court notably held that AP’s extreme price-point separation (€20,000 versus €150) did not automatically establish the distinctiveness necessary to ground a trade dress claim.

The Royal Pop: Strategic Mechanics

The Royal Pop’s IP architecture was assembled over two years in deliberate sequence. On 15 January 2024, Swatch AG filed “ROYAL POP” as a Swiss trademark in Class 14.[10] On 28 March 2024, the Japan IP High Court dismissed AP’s design appeal. On 18 June 2024, Swatch filed the mark internationally under the Madrid Protocol. On 17 December 2024, the U.S. registration was confirmed. On 2 January 2025, the TTAB published its refusal of AP’s configuration marks. The Royal Pop launched on 16 May 2026. The sequence is consistent with a collaboration conceived precisely as AP’s IP position collapsed, using it to generate new registered trademark rights (“ROYAL POP”) that AP could not obtain for the design elements themselves.

The commercial structure reinforces this reading. AP confirmed that 100% of its proceeds from the collaboration will flow directly to a non-profit initiative to preserve watchmaking savoir-faire, funding training for the next generation of Swiss horological craftspeople. This commitment neutralises the narrative of brand dilution. AP cannot be characterised as selling its design language for profit, and converts the collaboration from a revenue play into a philanthropic instrument. Industry analysts estimate the royalty pool at CHF 25–50 million based on MoonSwatch volume comparisons; AP has declined to retain a single franc of it.

The pocket watch format is equally deliberate. The Royal Oak’s identity is inseparable from the wristwatch format; a pocket watch wearing Royal Oak design elements occupies a categorically different product space, preventing any product-line confusion between the Royal Pop and the luxury original. It borrows the design vocabulary of the Royal Oak without replicating its category, a form of controlled artistic quotation that declares its own secondary status while requiring recognition of the original for legibility. This is an IP strategy through product architecture rather than registration.

The Royal Pop’s most underappreciated legal risk, however, lies not in what it says but in how it is structured. Secondary meaning in trademark law is not a free-floating asset; it attaches to a specific applicant. For AP to successfully re-file for protection over the Royal Oak’s design configuration, it must demonstrate that the relevant consuming public associates the octagonal bezel, the eight hexagonal screws, and the tapisserie pattern with Audemars Piguet as a single, identifiable source, not with watches generally, and critically, not with Swatch. The Royal Pop’s distribution architecture makes this genuinely difficult. The collaboration is retailed exclusively through Swatch boutiques; every consumer touchpoint, the retail environment, the packaging, the sales staff, and the store’s brand identity is Swatch. Over hundreds of thousands of transactions, this architecture builds an association between the Royal Oak’s design vocabulary and the Swatch retail experience that may, over time, compete with AP’s single-source design claim rather than reinforce it. A design that consumers learn to associate simultaneously with AP and Swatch is, for registration purposes, arguably associated with neither as a sole source indicator, since secondary meaning demands that consumers understand the shape to mean “this came from one specific maker.” Co-branding, by definition, signals two makers. This risk can be managed; marketing communications that consistently frame the Royal Pop as “Swatch’s interpretation of the Audemars Piguet Royal Oak design,” preserving AP as originator and Swatch as manufacturing partner, maintain a cleaner attribution structure. Still, it cannot be eliminated, and it represents the collaboration’s most consequential unresolved legal tension.

Economic Analysis: Democratisation and Dilution

The MoonSwatch (March 2022) provides the closest commercial precedent. Omega and Swatch,, both Swatch Group members,, launched a bio-ceramic wristwatch referencing the Speedmaster Moonwatch at $260 retail. [11]Over two million units were sold across 36 models. Secondary market prices averaged $900 within the first week, a 250% premium. Omega’s brand metrics improved. The MoonSwatch became the most-traded watch release in StockX history at launch. Former AP CEO François-Henry Bennahmias praised it publicly as “innovative,” a statement whose prescience became apparent when AP announced its own analogous collaboration.[12]

The brand dilution counterargument is structurally serious. The Royal Oak’s value rests not merely on material quality but on its symbolic economy of decades of controlled scarcity, limited annual production of approximately 50,000–53,000 pieces, multi-year waiting lists, and secondary market premiums that derive from the perception that the Royal Oak is inaccessible. That perceived inaccessibility depends on social distance, the distance between Le Brassus and the Swatch boutique on the high street, which the Royal Pop explicitly closes. Luxury economists in the tradition of Dubois and Laurent would argue that aspirational desire is most powerful when the aspirant possesses a physical talisman that sustains rather than discharges the desire; [13] the $400 Royal Pop may function as precisely such a talisman for a generation priced out of the Royal Oak. The decisive empirical question of whether Royal Pop buyers become Royal Oak buyers, or whether the $400 encounter discharges aspiration rather than intensifying it, will take years to answer. What is already clear is that the Royal Pop creates an audience-development infrastructure that AP’s own distribution model of under 100 mono-brand boutiques, at an average transaction price of CHF 51,000, cannot structurally build.

Jurisprudential Synthesis

The Royal Pop exemplifies what this article designates the “Collaborative IP Laundering” (CIL) model, where a luxury house facing the failure of formal IP registration, enters a controlled licensing arrangement with a mass-market manufacturer to accomplish what registration denied namely enforceable trademark rights in the collaborative context, controlled deployment of the design in a defined product category, and cultural narrative ownership that formal registration cannot provide. Through the Royal Pop, AP generates a registered mark (“ROYAL POP”) around the collaboration; channels proceeds to a philanthropic purpose that neutralises dilution critiques; and creates a legal record of voluntary, controlled use that complicates future copycat claims of abandonment or field saturation.

The deeper jurisprudential lesson is that formal IP law is structurally inadequate to protect the kind of value that defines luxury goods. The Royal Oak’s market power derives from accumulated social capital. The story of Genta’s overnight sketch, the waitlists, the wrists it has graced, none of which is registrable. AP has understood this. The Royal Pop operates not at the level of trademark registration but at the level of cultural narrative, using the collaboration to extend the Royal Oak’s story, recruit new participants into its mythology, and reinforce, through the very act of controlled democratisation, the aspiration that sustains the original’s pricing power. It is an IP strategy conducted through narrative rather than registration, through cultural events rather than litigation.

For practitioners, the TTAB’s January 2025 ruling signals that luxury brands whose advertising foregrounds word marks over design elements will face structural difficulty establishing that consumers recognise the design itself as a source indicator. Brands relying on product configuration as a primary competitive asset should urgently document “look for” advertising directed specifically at design elements, and should not assume that global fame substitutes for jurisdiction-specific secondary-meaning evidence independent of word-mark association.

Conclusion

The Royal Pop is the most significant jurisprudential event in fashion law since the MoonSwatch demonstrated that accessible luxury collaborations need not destroy the luxury original. But unlike the MoonSwatch, an intra-group affair managed within a single corporate governance structure, the Royal Pop is a cross-group licensing transaction between an independent luxury house and a mass-market conglomerate, executed at the precise moment that the luxury house’s formal IP campaign has collapsed across three continents. It is simultaneously an acknowledgement of legal limits and a demonstration that those limits need not be fatal. AP could not trademark the Royal Oak’s design. It has instead trademarked something arguably more powerful, the story of what the Royal Oak means, extended to an audience that couldn’t have afforded it, funded in a manner that makes the extension impossible to criticise. The oak has left Le Brassus. The legal and economic consequences will unfold for years.

Author: Aleena Mary Joseph

Refrences:

[1] Audemars Piguet Heritage Department. (n.d.). The Origins of the Royal Oak. Audemars Piguet Archives.

[2] Foulkes, N. (2022). Royal Oak: From Iconoclast to Icon. Assouline Publishing.

[3] See generally Genta, G. (Design Patents/Historical Archives for Patek Philippe Nautilus and IWC Ingenieur SL).

[4] 2022/DHC/002720

[5] 1990 (10) PTC 101 (Mad)

[6] In re Audemars Piguet Holding S.A., 2025 USPQ2d 18 (T.T.A.B. Jan. 2, 2025); see also U.S. Patent & Trademark Office, Trademark Manual of Examining Procedure (TMEP) § 1202.02 (June 2025 ed.).

[7] Audemars Piguet Holding SA v. Japan Patent Office, Case No. Reiwa 5 (Gyo-Ke) 10119 (Japan IP High Ct., Mar. 28, 2024).

[8] Japan Patent Office (JPO) Opposition Decision, Opposition No. 2024-900016, Oct. 16, 2024.

[9] Court of Milan, Business and IP Specialized Section, Order of March 12, 2015, Audemars Piguet Holding S.A. v. The One Watches S.r.l.

[10] Swiss Federal Institute of Intellectual Property (IGE/IPI), Trademark Application for “ROYAL POP” in Class 14, filed Jan. 15, 2024 (International filing date June 18, 2024).

[11] Swatch Group. (2022, March). Bioceramic MoonSwatch Collection Press Release. Swatch Group Archives.

[12] Bennahmias, F.-H. (2022). Interview with François-Henry Bennahmias. Luxury Tribune (as cited in WatchPro).

[13] Dubois, B., & Laurent, G. (1994). Attitudes toward the concept of luxury: An exploratory analysis. Asia-Pacific Advances in Consumer Research, 1(1), 273-278.

The post When The Oak Leaves Le Brassus appeared first on Fashion Law Journal.

The Design at the Centre of the Dispute

According to the complaint, 7-Eleven has used its “7-ELEVEN” name and logo in commerce since at least 1946, and has specifically used the combination of orange, green and red stripes, which it calls the “Tri-Color Mark,” for nearly forty years, with the complaint citing a first use date of January 1987 for one of the underlying registrations. The filing lists five federal trademark registrations said to cover the Tri-Color Mark and the wider 7-ELEVEN branding,  with registration dates running from 1998 to 2016, and notes that several additional registrations also protect the brand’s colour scheme across categories including clothing, footwear, headwear and golf balls. The complaint states that these registrations are incontestable, meaning they carry a heightened legal presumption of validity that would be difficult for Nike to challenge on its merits. 7-Eleven also points to its own history of licensed apparel and footwear collaborations, including with Crocs, Sunday Golf, Breezy Golf and skate brand DGK, as evidence that consumers already associate the tri-colour palette with officially sanctioned 7-Eleven products.

The shoe at issue is the Air Max 95 “Big Bubble” in the “Sport Green and Safety Orange” colourway, priced at $200 and, according to a screenshot of Nike’s SNKRS app included as an exhibit to the complaint, scheduled for release on 11 July 2026 at 10 a.m., a date that falls on what 7-Eleven calls “7-Eleven Day,” the retailer’s annual free Slurpee promotion built around the 7/11 date. 7-Eleven says it first became aware of the shoe in mid-June 2026, and the complaint attaches several pieces of unsolicited sneaker press coverage from outlets including Sole Retriever, Sneaker News, Women’s Wear Daily, Complex, Style Rave and Highsnobiety, which had already described the design using terms such as “instantly recognizable,” “unmistakable,” “signature” and “iconic.”

A Highsnobiety headline reproduced in the complaint runs “Nike’s 7-Eleven Air Max Is a 24/7 Textural Treat,” and a Sneaker News headline reads “7-Eleven Inspires This Upcoming Nike Air Max 95.” Separately, the complaint alleges that third-party product listings referred to the sneaker outright as “the ‘7-Eleven’ shoe,” and that at least one consumer had already purchased a pair through a third-party website before the official launch.

7-Eleven’s Legal Claims, in Plain English

The complaint pleads seven counts in total, but they really come down to two ideas repeated across federal and Texas law. The first idea is confusion: would an ordinary shopper browsing the Air Max 95 assume that 7-Eleven made it, licensed it, or signed off on it in some way? That question sits behind the complaint’s federal claims for unfair competition and false designation of origin under Lanham Act Section 43(a) (15 U.S.C. § 1125(a)) and for trademark infringement under Section 32(1) (15 U.S.C. § 1114(1)), and behind its Texas-law equivalents, common law trademark infringement and unfair competition, and statutory infringement under Texas Business and Commerce Code Section 16.102(b).

The second idea is dilution, which works differently and does not require anyone to be confused about who actually made the shoe. Instead, it asks whether Nike has cheapened the specialness of 7-Eleven’s colours simply by putting them on an unrelated product, loosening the tight, decades-built link in shoppers’ minds between orange, green and red stripes and 7-Eleven specifically. That theory underpins the complaint’s federal dilution claim under Section 43(c) (15 U.S.C. § 1125(c)) and its Texas-law counterpart under Section 16.103, along with a related Texas claim for unfair competition by misappropriation, which argues Nike is unfairly benefiting from the time and money 7-Eleven spent building that association in the first place.

Throughout the complaint, 7-Eleven’s lawyers describe Nike’s conduct in unusually strong terms, calling it “a callous and malicious disregard for 7-Eleven’s rights” and alleging that Nike acted “knowingly, willfully, intentionally, and maliciously.” That is not just colourful language for the reader’s benefit; it is doing legal work. If a court agrees that Nike knew what it was doing, 7-Eleven can ask for its damages to be trebled and Nike’s profits enhanced under the Lanham Act, rather than being limited to whatever losses it can actually prove.

Prior Negotiations and Nike’s Position

The complaint states that 7-Eleven “repeatedly contacted Nike to attempt to resolve this dispute” before filing suit, and that despite multiple communications between the parties, Nike indicated it intended to continue advertising the shoe and to proceed with the 7/11 launch. Nike had not filed a public response as of this writing. Some sneaker and trade outlets have separately reported that Nike pulled the Air Max 95 listing from its SNKRS app following the lawsuit, though Fashion Law Journal has not independently verified that action against Nike’s own statements and treats it as a developing detail worth confirming as the case progresses.

What 7-Eleven Wants the Court to Do

What 7-Eleven is asking for breaks down into two clusters. The first is about stopping the shoe altogether: a permanent injunction barring Nike from advertising, marketing or selling the Air Max 95 or anything else carrying a confusingly similar imitation of the Tri-Color Mark, plus an order forcing Nike to recall whatever has already reached stores and destroy any remaining shoes, signage or promotional material. The second is about paying for the harm already done: an accounting of whatever profit Nike made on the shoe, 7-Eleven’s actual damages, and, because the complaint argues Nike knew exactly what it was doing, damages trebled and profits enhanced under the Lanham Act, on top of exemplary damages under Texas law, attorneys’ fees, costs and interest. 7-Eleven has also demanded a jury trial, so if the case runs its full course, these questions would ultimately be decided by a jury rather than a judge alone.

Can a Colour Combination Really Function as a Trademark?

The case turns on a principle that often surprises people outside fashion and IP law, which is that trademark protection is not limited to names and logos and can, in the right circumstances, extend to colour itself. The foundational authority is the US Supreme Court’s 1995 decision in Qualitex Co. v. Jacobson Products Co., 514 U.S. 159, which held that a single colour can serve as a valid trademark once it has acquired what lawyers call secondary meaning, meaning that consumers have come to associate that colour specifically with one company’s goods, and provided the colour is not functional, that is, it does not serve some practical purpose that competitors need to be free to use. Fashion has its own well-known example in Christian Louboutin S.A. v. Yves Saint Laurent America Holdings, Inc., in which the Second Circuit Court of Appeals ruled in September 2012 that Louboutin’s red-lacquered outsole was a valid and enforceable trademark, though the court limited that protection to soles that contrast with a shoe’s upper, denying Louboutin the ability to stop a monochrome red YSL shoe.

7-Eleven’s case follows the same logic but applies it to a combination of three colours arranged in a specific stripe pattern rather than a single hue. The complaint leans heavily on the fact that several of the underlying registrations are incontestable, a status available under the Lanham Act once a mark has been in continuous use for five years after registration and the required affidavits have been filed, and one that limits the grounds on which a defendant can challenge the mark’s validity. Whether 7-Eleven can show the kind of consumer recognition and non-functionality that colour-based marks require will likely be a central battleground if the case proceeds past the pleading stage, alongside the more conventional question of whether an ordinary sneaker buyer would actually mistake an Air Max 95 for a 7-Eleven-branded product.

What Comes Next

With the shoe’s planned release date falling just days after the complaint was filed, the practical stakes for both companies are immediate, and 7-Eleven’s request for a preliminary injunction, if it presses for one, would likely be the first substantive hearing in the case. Fashion Law Journal will continue to follow the docket in 7-Eleven, Inc. v. Nike, Inc., for developments including Nike’s answer or any motion to dismiss.

The post 7-Eleven Sues Nike Over Air Max 95 Sneaker, Alleging Its “Tri-Color Mark” Was Copied for a 7/11 Release appeared first on Fashion Law Journal.

GI protection extends far beyond food. It shields traditional apparel, textiles, and handicrafts, making it particularly significant for the fashion industry and for communities like Nagaland whose cultural heritage lives in woven textiles.

A GI tag is important because it informs buyers that a product is truly linked to a certain location and that its value stems from the people, talents, and traditions of that region. In the food industry, take Darjeeling tea, Naga cucumber, and Chak-Hao black rice for example: these names are protected from being used to describe items that do not originate in those regions. More generally, rather than allowing it to be replicated and sold without attribution, GI tags help maintain authenticity, encourage local producers, and keep regional knowledge alive in the market.

The same protection applies to textiles: it safeguards the relationship between a woven product and the community that produced it. Fashion frequently borrows from local craft traditions, but the market does not always safeguard the creators of those designs, which makes that connection crucial.

That is why the Northeast is a crucial case to examine. Food and agricultural items like Naga Tree Tomato, Naga Sweet Cucumber, Khasi Mandarin, Chak-Hao black rice, Mizo chilli, and Assam Orthodox Tea are already GI-tagged in the area, demonstrating that GI is already a part of the Northeast’s legal identity protection.In addition to protecting identities, these GI tags help uphold customs and culture. Every product has a connection to particular farming methods, indigenous wisdom, and customs that have been passed down through the ages. The ancient methods of growing, harvesting, and using Chak-Hao black rice in ceremonies are also safeguarded when the rice is protected by a GI tag. The production and processing techniques that have shaped Assamese tea culture for generations are protected when Assam Orthodox Tea is granted GI protection. 

By linking a product to a specific place, GI gives the state legal ownership over the name, stops misuse by outsiders, and ensures the region is recognized as the source. This also helps preserve culture and traditions, because it protects the knowledge, skills, and community practices that make these products unique while keeping local producers in control of their identity.

However, the same reasoning holds true for textiles. Northeastern textiles are more than just clothing; they are symbols of place, community, tribe, and memory. Muga silk from Assam, Idu Mishmi textiles from Arunachal Pradesh, Chakhesang shawls from Nagaland, and the textile customs currently being sought for registration in Meghalaya and Nagaland are a few examples.

Here’s where fashion comes into play. A cloth enters the world of fashion as soon as it leaves the loom and is sold. A shawl, silk, or tribal weave is now a commodity, fashion, and trend rather than just a piece of heritage. Both opportunity and risk are created by this change. The opportunity is that GI can bring recognition, value, and market visibility to Northeast textiles, helping artisans earn better prices and gain wider respect. The risk is that once these textiles enter the fashion realm, the market often copies the designs without credit, splits the cultural meaning from the pattern, and sells them as ethnic prints or tribal-inspired fashion without benefiting the communities who created them.

GI can help Northeast textiles gain awareness, value, and recognition, but it also raises a bigger question: can the law protect not just a textile’s name, but the cultural meaning woven into it?

From heritage to commodity:  why Northeast textiles are disappearing from the market.

For generations, textiles across the Northeast were never just fabric sold in markets. They were cultural archives: woven with identity, rank, ritual, and ecological knowledge that passed through families and communities over time. 

In many Naga communities, a shawl carries more meaning than mere decoration. It signals a person’s lineage, achievements, and status within the community. It can indicate whether someone has participated in certain rituals, earned recognition, or belongs to a particular family line. When an elder weaves a cloth, they do not simply create a product; they embed memory, tradition, and identity into the pattern itself.

For many women in the Northeast, weaving functions as a form of language. It allows them to communicate without words and to pass down knowledge that might otherwise disappear. The motifs they select, the colours they use, and the techniques they repeat connect them to stories from the past, teachings from ancestors, and responsibilities to the community. A textile can serve as a wedding gift, a funeral marker, a festival symbol, or a treasure preserved in the home for generations.

To these communities, textiles are not merely art; they are part of their identity. Wearing a tribal shawl is like carrying their history on their shoulders, like holding their family’s legacy close. That is why when these textiles are copied and sold without context, it feels like more than just a design being taken. It feels like a story being stolen, a tradition being flattened, and a community being erased.

In Nagaland, shawls and handwoven cloth carry tribal meaning and social markers that signal belonging, status, and community memory rather than mere decoration, as shown in the Tribal Textiles of Nagaland and studies on Naga Shawls: Weaving Cultural Narratives and Tribal Identity. 

Across the region, textile motifs, colours, and weaving techniques reflect local ecology, gender roles, and ceremonial life, which makes them living traditions rather than static heritage artifacts.

However, these fabrics are increasingly regarded as commodities as they expand into larger markets, exhibitions, and fashion circuits. Outsiders find artistic inspiration in what was once a collective identity. Without acknowledgement, permission, or benefit-sharing, traditional patterns are replicated, simplified, and marketed as “ethnic prints” or “tribal-inspired” designs, a phenomenon documented in studies on cultural appropriation in textile and fashion design.  This is the same pattern observed with well-known GI items such as Champagne, Parmigiano Reggiano, and Roquefort. Champagne is protected by a GI that firmly links it to the Champagne region of France, guaranteeing that the name can only be applied to sparkling wine made there using particular techniques. No matter how similar the product is, no other producer of sparkling wine can refer to it as “Champagne.” However, businesses still profit from the Champagne aesthetic: its branding, its luxury association, its mystique. The cultural capital is borrowed without compensation to the region.

Similarly, Parmigiano Reggiano cheese is protected by GI, but knowledge of how to manufacture aged cheese, recipes, and procedures have been borrowed by other producers around the world. They mimic the cultural identity and offer comparable goods under different labels, even though they might not utilise the precise name. The same is true for Roquefort, which is associated with a particular area of France yet whose blue cheese-making heritage has been imitated and sold elsewhere.

The same is true for textiles in the Northeast. Without giving recognition to the tribe, a designer may reduce a Chakhesang shawl pattern and market it as “tribal-inspired.” Although the name “Chakhesang Shawl” is protected by the GI tag, the design can still be replicated and sold as something else. The cultural identity is extracted, repackaged, and sold, while the original community receives no benefit or recognition.

As a result, there is a legal void. The name of a cloth may be protected, but it is still possible to copy, sell, and wear the design that embodies the community’s identity without giving acknowledgement or payment.

When “Chakhesang Shawl from Nagaland” is protected by a GI tag, spurious claims are prevented and the term is linked to the location. However, this doesn’t stop designers from replicating the design and applying it to scarves, T-shirts, or handbags without restriction. The GI does not cover the design itself.

Logos and brand names have legal protection, but traditional weaving designs and the cultural knowledge embedded in them do not. A fashion brand can copy, modify, and market these designs without authorisation or benefit to the original community. A textile’s name can be recognised by the law, but its cultural significance, symbolic patterns, and collective knowledge are not protected. Even if a community is granted legal recognition for the name of their cloth, they still have no control over the design that embodies their identity. Today, GI and trademarks can safeguard the goods, but also expose the culture that underlies it.

The end effect is a subtle kind of cultural flattening: the textile’s cultural logic is eliminated, yet it is still physically identifiable.

This is the core legal problem. Indian trademark law protects logos and brand names, but it does not protect weaves, themes, or textile identity. As textiles become commodities, the law struggles to preserve cultural value while allowing markets to operate freely. The GI push for Nagaland textiles matters because it asks a critical question: can existing law protect cultural heritage in a market eager to consume it without understanding what it means? This tension is exactly what GI laws and their implementation in India reveal, as explained in GI laws and their implementations.

What Does the GI Protection Actually Cover Once the Tribe is Gone? 

A geographical indication safeguards a product’s connection to its location of origin rather than the product itself. According to Indian law, a GI is a label applied to products whose attributes, reputation, or traits are primarily related to their place of origin. To put it another way, GI protects the assertion that “this product comes from this place, and that place makes it special.” 

GI can increase market recognition for authentic goods that adhere to certified criteria and prevent fraudulent claims of origin for handloom and textile items. Producers in the designated area who adhere to the usage rules or code of practice are granted collective rights. This means that a textile tradition’s name, such as “Chakhesang Shawl from Nagaland,” can be protected by GI, preventing others from falsely claiming origin or copying the name. However, not every motif, weaving strategy, or symbolic significance incorporated into the cloth is automatically protected by GI. GI rights do not apply to the cultural reasoning behind the design; rather, they are territorial and restricted to the registered name and its fundamental connection to location. The proprietor of a protected geographical indicator cannot stop someone from using the same weaving methods or replicating visual elements that are not included in the registered name. GI holders cannot prevent others from using the same techniques or copying design components that fall outside the protected name. This is the core limitation: GI protects origin, not meaning. Because of this, GI can aid in authenticity, but it does not completely address the issue of cultural significance being separated from design when the textile is sold in larger markets.

In a nutshell, GI safeguards origin and reputation, but it struggles to safeguard identity, ritual, and community protocols that cannot be reduced to a place-linked name. Even if a GI is recognised, cultural appropriation and aesthetic borrowing can still occur in this gap.

Nagaland’s GI push: why this state matters for the North East?

Nagaland’s GI push is exceptionally concrete and well-documented, making it the most obvious entrance point into this issue. Officials announced in March 2026 that 24 Nagaland products, including handloom and textile items, including Pochury Textile, Pochury Shawl, Zeliang Textile, Sumi Textile, Ao textile and Tikhir Textile, had been selected for GI registration. This is important because each of these textiles is a social language rather than just a design, Naga shawls and associated clothing convey messages of achievement, identity, prestige and tribe specific memories. 

The paradox begins here. Once they leave the community, fabrics that symbolise collective identity become commercially viable “tribal-inspired” styles. To outsiders, these shawls are beautiful; to the tribe, they communicate rank, achievement, and belonging. The Konyak tribe weaves colourful garments with beads and shells as symbols of prosperity and victory, the Angami tribe makes shawls in vivid colours to symbolise valour, and the Ao tribe uses geometric motifs to reflect mythology. GI registration helps maintain the connection between product, location, and community, but it does not fully prevent meaning from being divorced from the design as the cloth enters larger markets.

Nagaland isn’t uniquely protected. It’s the clearest example of what the whole Northeast is attempting to do with GI protection.According to official reports, four items from Nagaland: Naga mircha, Naga cucumber, Chakhesang shawls, and Naga tree tomato, have received GI tags as of right now. In the meantime, a Memorandum of Understanding was signed by the Textiles Committee and NEHHDC to formally register 33 unique items from the Northeast, including 15 from Meghalaya and 18 from Nagaland. This makes Nagaland the focal point of the narrative, but it also highlights the Northeast’s larger endeavour to preserve cultural legacy before it is turned into a commodity.

In many places, GI preservation has effectively supported communities and protected cultural assets. The most famous example is Champagne from France, whose GI label guarantees that only sparkling wine produced in the Champagne region following particular techniques may use the name, safeguarding the region’s reputation and ensuring financial gains for regional producers.

Darjeeling Tea, which was GI-tagged in 2004, has effectively safeguarded its distinct identity in India, stopped other teas from being marketed as “Darjeeling,” and assisted regional growers in maintaining their market share and obtaining higher prices while maintaining traditional farming practices.

These cases demonstrate the effectiveness of GI protection when it is appropriately implemented; it guarantees local populations profit from their legacy, prevents name misuse, and maintains traditional practices. This tried-and-true strategy to preserve cultural heritage before it turns into a commodity is expanded upon by the Northeast’s efforts with Naga mircha, Chakhesang shawls, and other goods.

But why is GI protection alone not enough?

Even if more Northeast textiles receive GI recognition, important issues remain that GI cannot address on its own. Although a GI tag can verify a product’s connection to a location, it does not automatically safeguard every motif, weaving logic, symbolic significance, or community protocol that is affixed to a textile. A GI protects the name and origin, but it does not protect the cultural meaning, the design’s reasoning, or the traditions that accompany the textile.

Beyond these legal gaps, there are practical barriers to making GI work in the first place. Documentation, quality control, and post-registration assistance are all necessary for GI registration, yet many Naga communities continue to struggle in these areas. Documenting procedures, materials, and design standards is challenging because a large portion of Nagaland’s cultural knowledge is still oral.

The largest challenge is that the majority of producers, particularly those in rural and tribal areas, have no idea what GI is or how it may benefit them. Lack of knowledge prevents them from applying for or utilising GI protection, and local communities are left behind as big businesses or government organisations fill the void. Farmers and craftspeople seldom see true economic gain, even when GIs are registered. They lack access to larger markets, better prices, and protection from counterfeit goods. Instead, the value is captured by middlemen and large corporations.

The Indian GI system is also afflicted by weak monitoring and enforcement. Fines for GI tag infractions are insufficient to dissuade counterfeiters, and violations remain widespread despite registration. Local producers receive no real benefit from the system.

The primary focus of India’s GI framework is registration alone; marketing, quality assurance, branding, and rights assertion are not followed up on. Consequently, there is no framework in place to sell or defend GIs after they are registered on paper. GI holders find it challenging to handle enforcement in rural and distant places due to limited access to legal expertise.

To make the GI valuable, consistency of quality must be guaranteed; registration alone is insufficient. In specialised international markets, GI-tagged goods frequently fetch price premiums of 20% to 30%, increasing artisan incomes. However, they will remain paper promises in the absence of post-registration support, promotion, and enforcement.

Nagaland’s experience shows that GI protection can still lay a crucial foundation when communities take ownership of the process.

The Chakhesang Women Wellness Society (CWWS) offers a model for community-led GI protection. More than 25 years ago, the CWWS founded the Chakhesang Traditional Attires Committee to preserve, promote, and safeguard their cultural heritage. This long-standing community initiative demonstrates how local organizations can bridge the gap between GI registration and real-world protection.

When the GI tag was awarded to Chakhesang Shawls in 2017, the CWWS used it to file civil lawsuits against designers who misused their protected designs. This shows that once communities have the resources and organization to enforce their rights, legal action becomes possible. The GI tag transformed from a paper certificate into a tool for defending their heritage.

Growing institutional support is now emerging in Nagaland. At the stakeholder meeting on GI initiatives in Dimapur in March 2026, officials announced that 24 products had been nominated for GI registration, including six textile items. The Memorandum of Understanding signed by the Textiles Committee and NEHHDC to register 33 distinct Northeast goods, including 18 from Nagaland, signals that government agencies are beginning to provide the post-registration support needed for GI tags to translate into actual community benefits.

However, not all GI efforts succeed. Some textile applications from the Northeast have faced delays or rejection because the burden of proof was not met; documentation of traditional methods, continuity of use, and community linkage was insufficient, or the design was deemed decorative rather than distinctive, which is why community-led documentation and institutional support are essential. These cases show that even when communities attempt GI registration, the legal system often requires evidence that oral traditions cannot easily provide.

The key lesson is that communities must be empowered to lead their own GI applications and enforcement efforts, rather than waiting for external organizations to fill the void.

The shape of the thing: protecting a pattern instead of a name.

The way that indigenous patterns and corporate shapes are protected by the law is very different. Unlike a word mark, the Hermès Birkin and Kelly bags are protected by their unique design, which includes their construction, handle curves, and flap angles. The brand in a shape trademark or trade dress claim is recognised by the shape itself rather than by a name. If a shape tag is distinctive, visually appealing, and unmistakably associated with the brand in the minds of customers, it may be trademarked. It only needs to look beautiful; functionality is not necessary.

The situation is different with regard to Northeast textiles. A Nagaland textile pattern encodes ethnic identity through weaving, making it more than just a “shape.” The Konyak tribe weaves colourful garments with beads and shells as symbols of prosperity and victory, the Angami tribe makes shawls in vivid colours to symbolise bravery, and the Ao tribe utilises geometric motifs to reflect folklore. When a fashion brand imitates these patterns, it is imitating a cultural language rather than a shape. However, Nagaland tribes struggle to secure their textile identity because the law protects the name (e.g., “Chakhesang Shawl”) more than the meaning behind the weave, while Hermès is able to protect its bag shape as a trademark.

Culture (symbols, rituals, collective memory) lacks legal protection equivalent to objects (shapes, logos). Copyright protects new, individual creations: not generational, collective knowledge passed down through tribes. Indigenous knowledge was developed over many generations by a community, not by a single inventor. That’s the core problem: the law protects brands, not cultures. GI can aid with authenticity, but it still cannot prevent cultural meaning from being separated from the design.

What protection should look like. 

GI protection is necessary, but it is only the beginning. The designs, weaving techniques, and cultural connotations of Northeast textiles should be documented and conserved now, before they are lost or replicated, if they are to be adequately saved.

The community should also be included in the process. Protection is only effective when locals are aware of it and actively participate in it; it is not effective when it is managed solely from above. If the workers who manufacture the textiles do not know how to utilise the GI tag, it is insufficient.

Post-registration support is crucial: marketing, branding, quality assurance, and enforcement must follow GI recognition if it is to help craftspeople in practice. Textiles are collective cultural assets, not the property of a single individual, so protection must also center community consent, equitable benefit-sharing, and community rights. In short, the law must document, involve, enforce, and respect the communities whose heritage it seeks to protect.

Conclusion

Nagaland demonstrates both the limits of the law and how GI can help preserve textile history. A GI tag can protect a textile’s origin and reputation, but it cannot safeguard all aspects of its significance to a community. Effective protection requires more than registration: it demands community involvement, post-registration enforcement, and equitable benefit-sharing. Protecting the culture that underpins a product is just as important as protecting the product itself.

Other Northeastern states can follow Nagaland’s approach by first identifying culturally significant items, then organising community documentation around their history, skills, and place-based identities. Nagaland’s GI progress demonstrates that when state institutions, community organisations, and development agencies collaborate to advance from recognition to registration and subsequently to post-GI support including branding, quality control, and market access, legal protection strengthens.

They should also consider GI as a cultural protection strategy rather than just a commercial tool. The broader Northeast project to register 33 unique goods, including 15 from Meghalaya and 18 from Nagaland, demonstrates that the region is already developing a shared model for maintaining traditional knowledge and keeping legacy connected to the communities that produced it.

Refrences

 On Geographical Indications (GI) and Traditional Textiles in Northeast India

1. Chakhesang Shawl GI Registration & Cultural Appropriation Cases

   – Chakhesang Naga Shawl gets Geographical Indication tag | The Indian Aaaz (2017)

   – Cultural appropriation stinging Naga society | Eastern Mirror Nagaland (2021)

  – Naga communities urged to lead GI applications to protect traditional products | Eastern Mirror Nagaland (2026)

2. Nagaland GI Policy & 24 Products Identified

   – Stakeholder Meeting on GI Initiatives Held in Dimapur | Nagaland IP Office (2026)

   – A total of 24 products from Nagaland have been identified for GI | The Assam Tribune (2026)

3. Northeast GI MoU & 33 Products

   – Textile Committee, NEHHDC sign MoU to formalize GI registration for 33 products | Textile Trade Buddy (2026)

   – Textiles Committee and NEHHDC signs MoU on Intellectual Property | PIB (2025)

   – Textiles Committee and NEHHDC Sign MoU to Secure GI Protection for Northeast | Devdiscourse (2026)

4. Chakhesang Cultural Meaning & Symbolism

   – How the Chakhesang Naga community weaves a world of meaning into a shawl | Scroll.in (2023)

   – Naga Chakhesang Shawl – Digital GI (2024)

   – Loom to legacy: The Living Textiles of North East, India | ChaloHoppo (2025)

5. GI Law & Indigenous Knowledge in India

   – Protecting indigenous knowledge through GI law in India | IJLR (2025)

   – Threads of Identity: GI Tags’ Relevance in Protecting Northeast Textiles | Fashion Law Journal (2025)

   – Weaver Awareness and Perception of Geographical Indication Tags | IJCESEN (2025)

   – Challenges in Protecting Traditional Craftsmanship and Indigenous Designs Through Intellectual Property | Sonis Vision (2025)

6. GI Protection Framework (International)

   – Geographical Indications for Beginners | WIPO

   – Protecting local food and drinks | European Commission Agriculture (2026)

   – Geographical indications and traditional specialities in the European Union | Wikipedia

 On Champagne, Parmigiano Reggiano & Roquefort as GI Examples

1. Champagne GI Protection

   – How Champagne is protected under the TRIPS Agreement | iPleaders (2021)

   – Kolhapuri chappal row: Could Prada have done so with France’s Champagne? | India Today (2025)

2. Parmigiano Reggiano & Roquefort

   – Parmesan: The King of Cheeses | WIPO Magazine (2011)

   – Roquefort | Wikipedia

   – The Evolution of Geographical Indications: A Global Perspective | The Law Institute (2025)

 On Hermès Birkin & Kelly Bag Design Trademark Protection

1. French Court Decisions

   – Diritto d’autore e marchio contro copie fisiche e virtuali | SIB (2025)

   – Hermès Nabs Win in French Fight Over Copycat Birkin Bags, NFTs | The Fashion Law (2025)

   – Decision of the Paris Judicial Court on the Protection of the Iconic Kelly and Birkin Bags | Dreyfus (2025)

   – Design or art? French court rules that Birkin Bag is a copyright work | IPKat (2025)

2. International Court Decisions

   – Hermès Wins Birkin & Kelly Bag’s 3D Trademark Infringement Lawsuit | Mark’s IPLaw Japan (2023)

   – Hermès Prevails in Birkin, Kelly-Based Trademark Fight in Japan | The Fashion Law (2023)

   – Hermès Prevails in Unfair Competition Case Over “Make Your Own Birkin” Class | The Fashion Law (2020)

   – The Italian Supreme Court rules in favour of Hermès | Clifford Chance (2023)

3. India & China Decisions

   – Hermès Birkin Secures Well Known Status and Shape Mark Protection in India | RNAIP (2026)

   – Del HC declares ‘Birkin’ and ‘Hermes’ as well-known trade marks | SCC Online (2025)

   – Design of Hermès’ iconic Birkin and Kelly bags held to constitute trade dress | Wanhuida (2025)

4. Fashion & IP Theory

   – THE PRADA PARADOX | Chambers and Partners (2024)

   – Looking Ahead (Part IV) – Fashion and Intellectual Property | Cambridge Core (2025)

   – 10 Threads That Last | Cambridge Core

 On Cultural Appropriation & Intellectual Property

1. Cultural Appropriation in Fashion & Textiles

   – PRADA-KOLHAPURI PARADOX: A Critical Analysis of GI Protections Against Global Cultural Appropriation | Record of Law (2026)

   – From Chakhesang to Rongmei: Lessons in Protecting Textile Traditions | Thinking Space Online (2025)

   – CULTURAL APPROPRIATION WITH REFERENCE TO TRADITIONAL TEXTILES | EPRA Journals

2. Darjeeling Tea GI Example

   – Separately cited in main text via WIPO Geographical Indications resource above

The post GI Protection for Nagaland Textiles: What One State’s Push Shows Us About Northeast Heritage.  appeared first on Fashion Law Journal.

Pay Me What You Owe Me: Power and Control within Modelling Agencies.

Imagine being 23, believing you have finally realised your dream of becoming a model. You think you will earn money and help your family move out of one of the world’s largest refugee camps. You practise your runway walk in heels, preparing for the fashion weeks that await you. Now, picture this: your dream has turned from sweet to sour. You are now on a plane back home after being a model for only six months. Here’s the kicker: not only have your dreams been shattered, but you also owe your agency €3,000. This was the reality of Achol Malual Jau. Jau was the subject of a Sunday Times investigation revealing how some agencies recruit new talent directly from the Kakuma refugee camp. It was revealed that a Nigerian businesswoman named Joan Okorodudu, also known as “Mama” or “Auntie Joan”, scouted potential models at the refugee camp, then signed them to her agency. Okorodudu would later advertise these models to larger agencies such as Select Model Management.

Achol is not an isolated case. Other models have also been recruited from Kakuma refugee camp in northwestern Kenya. The pathway for them to start a modelling career in Europe is relatively straightforward. The potential models undergo initial recruitment, then travel to Nairobi to obtain passports and visas. This is followed by them receiving their accommodations and a weekly allowance of €70 to €100 to cover their expenses. However, models who fail to secure enough work or are deemed unsuitable due to industry pressures or malnourishment return to their homes at the camp. In Jau’s case, Select Model Management claimed that her client feedback was “less than favourable”. CEO Matteo Puglisi stated, “We lost thousands of euros on her. We have never asked for reimbursement. I am truly sorry she did not succeed. It was not for the want of trying on our behalf.” He also described her debt statement as a “fiscal obligation” and confirmed no legal action would be taken. Jau herself stated, “I worked hard but came back with no money. A lot of people think I have money because I went to Europe. I say I have nothing.” This reflects the financial and emotional precarity of international recruitment models.

Besides human trafficking legislation, there are currently no specific laws protecting models recruited from refugee camps or similar vulnerable environments. This creates a significant regulatory gap around informed consent, financial transparency, and safeguarding. Stronger protections could include mandatory pre-contract education, clearer disclosure of debt structures, and limits on relocation until consistent earning potential is established. Jau’s case highlights how structural vulnerability can be embedded from the very start of a modelling career, particularly where bargaining power is minimal. However, agency control is not limited to new faces. It also appears in disputes involving established models.

In 2018, Adwoa Aboah sued her former agency, The Lions Model Management (LMM), for approximately $190,000 in unpaid wages and damages. She claimed that between 2015 and 2017 she earned around $670,000 dollars but received only half. She alleged that unpaid earnings were withheld as “ransom” after she left the agency. She later signed with DNA Model Management, stating, “fashion models are not indentured servants.” The case followed earlier litigation in 2017 when The Lions Model Management sued DNA Model Management co-founder David Bonnouvrier, CLM founder Camilla Lowther, and Aboah’s mother, alleging they conspired to remove her from her contract early. LMM claimed that Aboah’s mother and Lowther pressured the agency, including threats to damage its business. They also highlighted Aboah’s success during her contract, which included a Vogue cover and campaigns for Fendi and Calvin Klein. DNA denied wrongdoing, arguing that Aboah left after her contract ended due to dissatisfaction and that agencies are permitted to compete fairly. They also argued there was no personal liability for Bonnouvrier as his actions were within his corporate role. They further noted that under New York law, certain contracts operate on an “at will” basis unless otherwise specified. Lions ultimately dropped its lawsuit. Aboah later pursued her unpaid wages claim. There has been no major public update on the outcome.

This case was significant because it marked a rare instance of a model challenging an agency legally. However, such action remains uncommon due to fears of blacklisting and the financial burden of litigation. It also highlights how outcomes are shaped not only by legal rights but by economic and social capital. More recently, the Fashion Workers Act came into effect in New York on June 19, 2025. Championed by the Model Alliance, it closes legal loopholes that previously limited agency accountability. It introduces payment deadlines, transparent contracts, fee disclosure, protections against harassment, safeguards against unauthorised use of likeness or AI-generated imagery, and requires agency registration to improve oversight.

Home Is Where the Heartless Is: Precarious Living, and Body Surveillance Within Modelling Agencies.

Physiological needs are listed as the first tier of Maslow’s hierarchy of needs. This includes basic necessities such as food, water, and shelter. These are fundamental to human survival and must be met before higher-level needs such as safety, love, and self-esteem can be meaningfully pursued. Modelling agencies should treat these as non-negotiable basics for anyone entering the industry, right?  Wrong, this is not always reflected in their practices. Many models face expensive and crowded living conditions, alongside environments that can encourage disordered eating and extreme body standards.

A model apartment is accommodation owned or rented by a modelling agency. The agency will often initially cover rent, but once a model starts booking work, these costs are deducted from their earnings. New faces or models placed abroad at short notice often rely on these apartments as they are the only immediate housing option. They are also easier to access due to visa processes, making agency-backed accommodation the most practical option at the start of an international placement. However, this system quickly becomes complicated. Many models arrive already in debt to their agencies, meaning housing costs immediately deepen financial pressure. Even established models can struggle to cover rent due to the freelance nature of the industry, where work is unpredictable, and income is inconsistent. As Rue (@Ruebarbx) explains on TikTok:

“Some of these girls will stay in a country for six months, eight months, or even a year. And it can be really hard in the first few months to just go and get accommodation, especially if you haven’t actually started seeing any of the money you’re earning.

One of the biggest negatives about model apartments is that work is never guaranteed in the modelling industry because you’re freelance. So you could essentially get into months of debt staying in these places and then never earn enough money to pay your agents back.”

Therefore, housing shifts from being a form of stability to a mechanism of financial pressure. Rather than functioning as a safe space, model apartments can become sites of control, particularly where agencies benefit from inflated occupancy costs. In a Vogue video titled “10 Models Explain the Dangerous Power Dynamics in the Modelling Industry”, 19-year-old Selena Forrest stated: “Agencies don’t have their models’ best interests at heart, because if they did, they probably wouldn’t make as much money.” She described living in a two-bedroom, two-bathroom apartment shared with seven other models, each paying $1,200 per month. She noted: “$1,200 times seven, that’s a pretty good chunk of change. I mean, we could afford another bedroom in there.” This totals approximately $8,400 per month, enough for significantly larger accommodations in cities such as New York, London, or Milan. Another account given by Rue further highlighted the overcrowded living conditions in these kinds of apartments, sometimes involving up to twenty models in one apartment with limited privacy. In her video, Rue also explained an instance where she decided to leave model housing, entirely opting for an Airbnb. She said, “You may not think this looks that bad… It’s like 900 to share a bed with someone, and the place was just. It wasn’t great.” This raises a broader structural concern about whether housing arrangements in modelling operate as part of a wider system of financial dependency. It also raises legal questions around transparency of deductions, contractual fairness, and the extent of agency responsibility for basic living standards. 

Alongside housing, body surveillance represents another major pressure within the industry. “We’re looking for a girl who’s lanky and skinny because that’s really what the designers want.” This statement was made by the owner of Premier Modelling Agency, Carol White, in a 60 Minutes Australia video, which investigated the pressures placed on young models. Despite legislation in some countries, industry expectations continue to prioritise extreme thinness. Former model Victoire Maçon Dauxerre has stated: “The hard truth is you need to almost disappear to appear at Fashion Week.” Israel was the first country to regulate underweight models. In 2013, the Model Law prohibited models with a BMI under 18.5 from runway shows and advertising. France followed in 2017, requiring medical certification confirming models are healthy enough to work. Doctors assess health using weight, age, and body shape rather than BMI alone. Agencies can face fines of up to €75,000 and six months of imprisonment for non-compliance. Digitally altered images that change body shape must also be labelled as “retouched photographs”. French law also criminalises the promotion of extreme thinness, including content that encourages anorexia. During the same period, an estimated 30,000 to 40,000 people in France were affected by anorexia, with around 90% being women, many of them adolescents. These laws represent an important step in linking industry standards with public health concerns, particularly around eating disorders.

However, the pressure to be extremely thin remains deeply embedded within some modelling agencies. Edan Mackney, who was 15 years old during her modelling career, was told she needed to lose inches from her legs due to muscle definition. She later stated: “I would go to bed all the time hungry, but I was so scared of eating because I thought that that’s what was making me not get that inch off my hips.” This reflects a wider pattern where weight loss becomes associated with professional success, creating harmful effects on mental health and self-esteem. This constant reminder of being told to lose weight, combined with efforts to maintain an increasingly unhealthy level of thinness, operates as a form of psychological pressure that can severely affect self-esteem and mental health. This is echoed in Caroline Trentini’s statement in Vogue’s “The Models” docuseries, where she recalls, “I went to meet with the agency and they measured me, and they told me that I needed to lose, I think it was like two inches off my hips and maybe two off my waist. I was a perfectionist. So I associated doing a good job with modelling with losing weight.” Similar pressures are reflected in Victoire Maçon Dauxerre’s experience, where she explains that agents never directly told her to lose weight. Instead, her hip measurements were altered on her comp card and recorded as 87cm instead of her actual 92cm. She was told she needed to be under 90cm, effectively requiring her to lose two clothing sizes within two months. In order to do this, Dauxerre further stated: “That’s why I actually stopped eating and ate three apples a day.” This form of measurement manipulation and implicit pressure contributes to a culture where weight loss becomes equated with professional success. Her heartbreaking experience, along with the experiences of the other models mentioned, further showcases how informal pressures operate alongside formal regulation.    

Behind the glamour of the runway and the eye-catching appeal of fashion editorials lies a complex system of labour, power, and control that is often overlooked. While modelling is frequently presented as a pathway to success and opportunity, I hope my article has highlighted the structural vulnerabilities that exist beneath that narrative. From financial precarity and exploitative housing arrangements to the regulation of bodies and health, the cases discussed demonstrate how easily power can become concentrated within modelling agencies, often at the expense of those they represent. Although recent legal developments, such as the Fashion Workers Act in New York, signal progress towards greater accountability, significant gaps in protection remain. Ultimately, these examples raise deeper issues of responsibility within the fashion industry and who is held accountable when the pursuit of beauty and profit comes at a human cost. The question that still lingers for me is this: Would you ever sign away your own agency to an agency, and at what cost?

References:

1) Vitkute, Demi.  “Modelling Agencies Recruit Refugees From One of the World’s Largest Camps.” The Urban Watch, October 16, 2013. https://theurbanwatch.com/fashion/modeling-agencies-recruit-refugees/

2) Matera, Avery. “Adwoa Aboah Sues Modeling Agency Claiming She Wasn’t Paid Nearly $190,000.” Teen Vogue, March 23, 2018. https://www.teenvogue.com/story/adwoa-aboah-sues-modeling-agency/

3) Tate, Crystal. “Adwoa Aboah Is Suing Former Management Company for Unpaid Wages.” Essence October 24, 2020. https://www.essence.com/fashion/adwoa-aboah-suing-former-management-company/

4)    Hays, Kali. “Adwoa Aboah Opens Up About Her ‘Heart in Legal Fight’ With Former Management.” September 15, 2017. https://www.yahoo.com/lifestyle/adwoa-aboah-heart-legal-fight-202203293.html

5)    Hays, Kali. “DNA Says Models Aren’t ‘Indentured Servants’ in Row Over Adwoa Aboah.” Yahoo Life, October 6, 2017. https://www.yahoo.com/lifestyle/dna-says-models-aren-t-215723779.html

6) Rue. @Ruebarbx on Tiktok. “Model Apartment Experience.” TikTok, January 7, 2024. https://www.tiktok.com/@ruebarbx/video/7386625515865656608

7)    BBC News. “France Bans Extremely Thin Models.” BBC News, May 6, 2017. https://www.bbc.com/news/world-europe-3982103 

8)    France 24. “France Cracks Down on Anorexia.” France 24, April 16, 2008. https://www.france24.com/en/20080416-france-cracks-down-anorexia-france-health

9)    60 Minutes Australia. “Young Models Say Unapologetic Industry Nearly Killed Them.” YouTube, October 18, 2019. https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=Jt2Jaa82Yog

10) Vogue. “10 Models Explain the Dangerous Power Dynamics in the Modeling Industry.” YouTube, October 3, 2018. https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=7e9C-VX6GfE

11) Vogue. “9 Models on the Pressure to Lose Weight and Body Image | The Models.” YouTube, April 23, 2019. https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=MKd38G338Qw

Author: Déjà Danielle

Hailing from Nassau, Bahamas, Déjà Danielle is a fashion enthusiast interested in the intersection of fashion, culture, and law. She holds a BA (Hons) from York University’s Glendon College, an MA from Parsons School of Design Paris, and will begin legal studies at St George’s, University of London. Her areas of interest include intellectual property, brand protection and model rights within the fashion industry. In her free time, she enjoys photography, reading, travel, languages, and the arts.

Instagram: @deja.danielle

The post From Dreams to Nightmares: Exploring Exploitation within Modelling Agencies. appeared first on Fashion Law Journal.

In the infamous Bollywood Film “Zindagi Na Milegi Dobara”, a memorable scene depicting the purchase of a Hermès Kelly bag worth around 12,000 Euros (in 2011) was meant to showcase the extravagance and lifestyle of high-earning individuals. 

However, today, the same bag in the secondary luxury market can command a price of up to $25,000–$35,000+ USD. With Luxury handbags showing ~13% annual growth in the Knight Frank Luxury Investment Index, it raises a curious question in this context: can a handbag function as a financial asset?

Luxury handbags, particularly the ones produced by Hermès, such as the Hermès Birkin bag and Hermès Bag, have increasingly been discussed not merely as accessories but also as alternative investments. Over the past few decades, these luxury goods have displayed price appreciation patterns contrasting with traditional asset classes such as Gold and Equities. At this crossroad of luxury fashion, economics and law lies an intriguing phenomenon where consumption, status and investment come together at play.

Luxury Handbags as an Alternative Investment

Investors conventionally allocate wealth across stocks, bonds, commodities and other traditional modes. However, alongside these types of investments, there has also been a rise of alternative investments, including art, wine, and Luxury Handbags. Multiple financial analyses indicate that the Birkin bags delivered an average annual return of approximately 14% between 1980 and 2015, marking it an outperformer to many traditional investment instruments in the same period, including the S&P 500 Index. 

Furthermore, luxury handbags are a recognised instrument in the global luxury ecosystem, especially for investment. The Knight Frank Luxury Investment Index tracks the performance of collectables such as classic cars, wine and handbags, highlighting the growing financial relevance of such goods. The strongest performers in this index have often been Handbags. 

This phenomenon is often considered to be driven by the thriving secondary market for luxury fashion. These luxury handbags transform into tradeable assets through auction houses and resale platforms. Institutions such as Sotheby’s and Christie’s regularly host handbag auctions where rare Hermès pieces can sell for hundreds of thousands of dollars. Even online luxury resale platforms like Vestiaire Collective and Rebag have further democratized access to this market.

In some cases, rare models like the limited-edition Birkins or Mini Kelly bags appreciate sporadically, sometimes achieving price increases exceeding 92 percent in the resale market. As a result, luxury handbags increasingly occupy a space at the intersection of fashion consumption and financial speculation. 

The concept of Scarcity and Veblen Goods

The remarkable performance of select luxury handbags can be explained through the economic theory of Veblen Goods – a category of goods where demand is directly proportional to price, as a higher price signals both exclusivity and status. Unlike most fashion brands that aim for maximal sales and distribution, Hermès strictly limits the production of its most desirable handbags. This cultivated scarcity is a deliberate business strategy. Each Kelly is handcrafted by a single artisan, a process that can take up to numerous manual hours. This meticulously designed production method inherently restricts supply.

Moreover, Hermès maintains a tight grasp over distribution channels. For example, you can not simply walk into their store and make a purchase; rather, these bags are generally offered only to select clients who already have a built relationship with the said brand. 

From the outlook of finance, scarcity and prestige create a powerful combination that supports price appreciation in the long term. Thereby, it’s considered that Hermès does not merely sell handbags but also status and desirability embedded into a tangible good.

Distribution control in Fashion Law

The legal framework governing the distribution of luxury goods comprises various pillars. One commonly used strategy in this aspect is selective distribution, which allows companies to ensure that certain standards regarding pricing and store presentation are maintained. Hermès has created an environment where access to its most coveted products is restricted to prevent overexposure and discounting. However, with this strategy, certain questions surrounding the legality of this approach are also raised. With many consumers alleging Hermès of practising the concept of ‘pre-spending” 

From the perspective of fashion law, these practices raise concerns surrounding tying arrangements. Tying arrangement refers to when the sale of one product is directly or indirectly dependent on the purchase of another. Under the antitrust law framework of various jurisdictions, tying agreements may be scrutinised if the company possesses significant market power and/or if such a practice restricts consumer choice. 

Whether this approach constitutes an unlawful tying arrangement still remains debated. With supporters terming it “a relationship-based retail experience’ and critics terming it “anti-competitive conduct”.

The Potential Risk of Fashion as an Investment

While analysing the impressive performance of some luxury handbags, financial experts argue against regarding fashion goods as traditional investments. When compared to stocks and index funds, luxury items lack standardised pricing mechanisms and also depend on subjective factors such as condition, accessibility and consumer preferences. These risks include, but are not limited to: Volatility of Resale Market, Dependence on Fashion trends, havoc of storage and maintenance to preserve value. 

Liquidity is another challenge in this aspect, where stocks can be sold with ease in public markets, but at the same time, luxury handbags require auctions or resale platforms, again adding to time and transaction fees. Therefore, luxury handbags occupy the category- part lifestyle purchase and part speculative asset.

Conclusion 

The rise of luxury handbags as financial assets reveals a unique convergence of fashion, economics and law. Hermès Birkin and Kelly bags are products that depict how brand identity, controlled identity and symbolism can transform an accessory into a highly sought-after investment accessory.

Yet this phenomenon raises questions about value and whether these handbags are truly financial assets or are they mere sophisticated expressions of status enforced by careful legal and economic positioning.

The answer lies somewhere in the middle, wherein luxury handbags blend financial potential with artistry and prestige; while some cherish their status, others find comfort in simple investments.

The post Birkinonomics: How Fashion Became an Asset Class appeared first on Fashion Law Journal.

That is what gives the case its edge. This is not only a fight over whether certain items should have appeared on SHEIN. It’s also a fight over how Selena’s estate can enforce rights it says are still active and protectable. For a company like SHEIN, the issue may look operational: listings, sellers, takedowns, and notices. For Selena’s estate, this issue is broader and more long-term. From its point of view, this is about protecting the licensed use of an image that still carries enormous cultural and commercial value. 

What Selena’s Estate is Arguing 

The complaint raises several claims, but the basic argument is simple. The estate says Selena-related merchandise was presented in a way that could lead consumers to think it was official or connected to Selena’s estate when it was not. Public trademark records also support the estate’s position that it owns and manages those rights. That is where the trademark infringement and false designation of origin claims come in. The estate is arguing that Selena’s name, image, and related branding were used in a way that could suggest an endorsement or affiliation. A consumer doesn’t need to know about trademarks or trademark law for that to matter. The estate is arguing that the way the product was presented could lead people to think it came from or was approved by Selena’s estate.

One of the claims made is for dilution, but not whether shoppers are confused right away. Instead, it’s about whether repeated unauthorized use of their mark can weaken the power of a famous name over time. In fashion, this matters because a name like Selena does not just identify a person, but style, memory, and cultural meaning. If that name keeps showing up on merchandise without approval, the estate can argue that the name loses some of its distinctiveness. Brand owners worry about that kind of erosion because, if a mark is not protected carefully, it can become weaker over time. In extreme cases, a name can even lose trademark protection altogether if it becomes generic (“aspirin” is the classic example in the U.S.). Even though dilution and genericide are not the same thing, both ideas show why owners try to stop repeated unauthorized use before the name loses value. 

The publicity rights claim may be the most important part of the case. California law protects a deceased person’s name, voice, signature, photograph, and likeness from unauthorized commercial use. That means this lawsuit is not just about a word or image on a product label. It’s also about whether Selena’s image and identity are still legally protected after her death. Public trademark records help support that position. USPTO records show the SELENA mark is live and registered, with Q Productions LLC listed as the current owner, including for Class 25 apparel goods. Separate USPTO assignment records show an ownership transfer, first from Selena’s father to Suzette Quintanilla and then to Q Productions LLC. That gives the estate a stronger footing when it says Selena’s name and image are still being actively managed, licensed, and protected; not treated as open for anyone to use.

The Seller, The Platform, or Both?

One interesting part of the lawsuit is that it does not appear to be built around a one-time incident. The estate is trying to show a pattern. Exhibit A to the complaint includes a cease-and-desist letter and screenshots showing Selena-related search results and listings on the SHEIN platform. The estate is not only saying that Selena merchandise appeared on SHEIN. It is also saying SHEIN was allegedly put on notice, yet the listings still remained. That matters because, once a platform has been warned, the focus shifts. The question is no longer just what was on the site, but what happened after the warning was given.

SHEIN has reportedly said that the merchandise was sold on their platform by third-party sellers, but that it was removed once flagged, and that they have launched an investigation. That may be part of SHEIN’s defense, but it does not completely settle the issue. The seller may have posted the item, but the platform still gives it visibility. It helps shoppers find the listing, and it benefits when people click and buy. That’s why the case matters beyond Selena merchandise. It gets at a bigger issue in fashion e-commerce: how much distance can a platform really claim when it profits from the demand generated by those listings? 

In fast fashion, speed changes everything. Products can appear quickly, spread quickly, and get bought quickly. By the time someone objects, the listing may already have done its job: being viewed, shared, or sold. That is part of what makes cases like this so important. They force courts to think about how much responsibility a platform should bear in a system built for speed.

Why Selena Makes This Different 

Selena remains one of the most influential Latina artists in music and popular culture, and her connection to fashion has always been part of that story. The GRAMMY Museum says her influence on music, fashion, and culture still inspires generations, and its current exhibit points out that Selena designed many of her own stage costumes. The Smithsonian has also recognized Selena’s cultural impact. They have continued to preserve her legacy, treating Selena as a living cultural force, not just a figure from the past. Describing her as the “Queen of Tejano Music,” the Smithsonian presents Selena as someone whose story and music continue to reach new generations today. That helps explain why her estate is treating this case seriously. Selena’s name and image still mean something to people, and that gives them commercial value. From the estate’s point of view, this is about protecting an image that is still very much alive in fashion, music, and community memory.

As the case moves forward, readers should watch how SHEIN responds, whether it continues to push liability onto third-party sellers, and how the court handles the estate’s trademark and publicity rights claims. For now, the lawsuit is already doing something important; it’s putting pressure on a broader question in fashion e-commerce: how much responsibility a platform should bear when protected names and images appear in online listings.  

Sources:

1. People, “Late Singer Selena Quintanilla’s Sister Sues Shein Over Clothing Line.”
2. Q Productions, Inc. et al. v. SHEIN Distribution Corporation et al., No. 2:26-cv-02588 (C.D. Cal.), case page and filings, accessed via PACERMonitor.
3. Q Productions, Inc. et al. v. SHEIN Distribution Corporation et al., No. 2:26-cv-02588 (C.D. Cal.), docket, accessed via Justia.
4. Lanham Act / 15 U.S.C. § 1125
5. USPTO Trademark Search, SELENA word mark, Reg. No. 5522456
6. USPTO Assignment Center records for the SELENA mark
7. California Civil Code § 3344.1 (post-mortem rights of publicity)
8. kiitv.com, “No results for ‘Selena’ on SHEIN after lawsuit filed by Q Productions.”
9. Remezcla, “SHEIN Removes All Selena Quintanilla Merch on Website – Here’s Why.”
10. GRAMMY Museum, “GRAMMY Museum Announces ‘Selena: From Texas To The World’ Exhibit.”
11. Smithsonian National Museum of American History, Selena materials/press release.

Author: Karla Galiano Herrera

Karla Galiano Herrera is a second-year J.D. candidate at New York Law School with interests in intellectual property, fashion law, and the legal issues that shape brands, media, and creative industries. Her perspective is informed in part by her background in immigration advocacy, which continues to shape the way she thinks about identity, protection, and access. Outside of law school, she enjoys blogging, content creation, and following the trends, stories, and cultural conversations that shape fashion and media.

The post Q Productions v. SHEIN: Trademark and Publicity Rights in Fast Fashion appeared first on Fashion Law Journal.

Increasingly, however, it is also rhetoric.

In certain corners of the contemporary luxury market, diamonds are no longer sold solely as symbols of permanence. They are marketed as portable portfolios. Emeralds are not merely exquisite; they are “inflation-resistant.” Rare gemstones are positioned as “stores of value,” vault-kept and algorithmically tracked. What was once whispered in royal treasuries and whispered again in dowry negotiations is now stated in the confident vocabulary of finance. Jewelry, we are told, is an asset class.

This transformation from adornment to instrument demands legal scrutiny. At what point does a bracelet become a balance sheet entry? When does a gemstone cease to be merely decorative and begin to operate as a regulated security?

The answer lies not in carats or clarity, but in structure.

The Ancient Logic of Portable Wealth

To be clear, jewelry has always occupied an ambiguous space between beauty and banking. Gold bangles have long functioned as emergency liquidity in South Asian households. European monarchies mobilized gem-encrusted regalia to finance wars. In many cultures, bridal jewelry was as much financial insulation as it was ceremonial spectacle.

What is new is not the financial function of jewelry. What is new is its formalization.

Digital platforms now offer fractional ownership of rare diamonds. Investors purchase proportional interests in gemstones that are stored in insured vaults, professionally curated, and eventually resold. Blockchain-backed authentication systems record provenance and certify authenticity. Marketing language invokes diversification, scarcity, and long-term appreciation.

The jewel, in effect, is being securitized.

This shift inevitably triggers the most fundamental inquiry in financial regulation: whether the transaction constitutes an investment contract. In the United States, the analytical touchstone remains the test articulated by the Supreme Court of the United States in SEC v. W.J. Howey Co. Under the Howey framework, a scheme is deemed a security if it involves an investment of money in a common enterprise with an expectation of profits derived primarily from the efforts of others.

A diamond purchased for personal wear does not meet this threshold. A fractionalized diamond marketed as an appreciating investment vehicle, managed and resold by a centralized platform, very well might.

The distinction is neither semantic nor superficial. It is determinative.

Cut, Clarity, and the Howey Test

Consider the mechanics of fractional ownership of gemstones. An entity sources a high-value diamond, often emphasizing rarity and projected appreciation. It divides the economic interest into units. Investors contribute capital in exchange for fractional stakes. The diamond is retained in storage. The platform manages insurance, valuation, and eventual resale.

The investor does not polish, market, or negotiate. She waits.

Her expectation of profit is tethered to the platform’s managerial expertise. The enterprise pools capital. Each participant’s success is interdependent. These elements align uncomfortably well with securities doctrine.

The U.S. Securities and Exchange Commission has repeatedly emphasized that economic reality prevails over creative labeling. Calling an offering a “collectible opportunity” does not shield it from regulation if it functions as an investment contract. Substance governs form.

The Indian regulatory framework, overseen by the Securities and Exchange Board of India, adopts a similar substance-over-form approach when evaluating collective investment schemes. If funds are pooled, managed centrally, and marketed with an implicit or explicit promise of financial returns, regulatory oversight may follow.

This is not hostility toward innovation. It is fidelity to investor protection.

Securities law exists precisely to address asymmetry of information. The gemstone market, characterized by opacity in pricing and valuation variability, presents fertile ground for such asymmetry. Professional gemologists, auction houses, and vault custodians operate in a knowledge ecosystem that ordinary investors may not fully access. Regulation, in theory, intervenes to equalize that imbalance.

Tokenized, Not Timeless

Proponents of tokenized jewelry frequently invoke blockchain as a guarantor of transparency. Distributed ledgers can indeed enhance provenance tracking, reduce counterfeiting, and document the chain of custody. For luxury goods, where authenticity is currency, this technological layer offers real value.

Yet tokenization does more than authenticate. It fractionalizes and, in doing so, creates the perception of liquidity.

Digital tokens tied to gemstones may be traded on secondary platforms. Interfaces resemble those of equity exchanges. Charts display price fluctuations. The user experience mirrors that of investment apps that have democratised stock trading.

But appearance is not equivalence.

Unlike shares listed on regulated exchanges, tokenized gemstone interests often trade on limited, platform-specific markets. Liquidity depends on buyer interest, platform solvency, and operational continuity. Should the platform collapse or face enforcement action, investors may find themselves holding digital representations of illiquid assets.

Recent enforcement actions by the U.S. Securities and Exchange Commission in the broader digital asset ecosystem illustrate this vulnerability. Where token issuers promoted profit expectations and centralized managerial efforts, regulators intervened, applying established securities principles to novel technological wrappers.

The diamond may be geologically ancient, but the financial architecture surrounding it is startlingly contemporary. Its stability does not immunize its token from regulatory classification.

From Proposal to Prospectus

Perhaps the most decisive factor in determining whether jewelry offerings are subject to securities regulation lies in communication.

If a brand’s narrative centers on sentiment, craftsmanship, and personal meaning, the transaction remains comfortably within consumer goods law. If the narrative pivots toward measurable financial returns, portfolio strategy, and capital preservation, the transaction edges into investment territory.

The rhetorical shift can be subtle. A campaign that describes a diamond as “timeless” speaks to aesthetic endurance. A campaign that describes it as “historically outperforming traditional assets” speaks to financial expectation.

This is not a trivial distinction. The protection of reasonable investor expectations animates securities law. When promotional materials foreground profit potential, regulators are more likely to view purchasers as investors rather than consumers.

In a digital economy where Instagram reels double as prospectuses and influencer endorsements blur into financial advice, the lines are increasingly porous. Disclosure obligations may attach not only to the platform issuing fractional interests but also to the manner in which those interests are marketed.

Luxury thrives on mystique. Financial regulation demands clarity. The tension is inevitable.

The Feminization of Financial Fluency

There is a cultural dimension to this convergence that merits attention. Jewelry has historically been dismissed as ornamental indulgence, associated with domestic spaces and feminine identity. Its reconfiguration as an investment vehicle subtly destabilizes that narrative.

When a woman purchases fractional interests in diamonds as part of a diversified portfolio, she participates in a rearticulation of value. What was once coded as decorative becomes strategic. What was once sentimental becomes financial.

Yet empowerment rhetoric must not obscure risk.

The democratization of alternative assets often carries the sheen of accessibility while retaining the structural vulnerabilities of illiquid markets. Transparency in pricing methodologies, insurance arrangements, exit mechanisms, and fee structures becomes essential. Without it, the promise of diversification may dissolve into speculation.

Regulatory compliance, therefore, is not merely a bureaucratic hurdle. It is an ethical obligation in markets where aesthetic allure can obscure economic complexity.

Carats Across Borders

As jewelry platforms operate across borders, jurisdictional questions multiply. A tokenized diamond stored in Switzerland, marketed to Indian investors, and managed by a Delaware entity falls under  multiple regulatory regimes. Determining which securities laws apply, and how enforcement is coordinated, becomes a sophisticated exercise in private international law.

Fashion law, often preoccupied with trademarks and counterfeits, must expand its analytical aperture. The future of luxury commerce intersects not only with intellectual property but also with financial regulation, fintech compliance, and cross-border capital controls.

In this emerging terrain, lawyers advising luxury houses and technology startups alike must possess fluency in both valuation reports and statutory interpretation. The boutique firm of tomorrow may need to read a balance sheet as deftly as it reads a design patent.

All That Glitters Must Disclose

Jewelry will never relinquish its symbolic power. It will continue to mark engagements, celebrate achievements, and sparkle beneath gala lights. Yet as market innovators repackage gemstones as investment vehicles, the law insists on asking a pragmatic question.

Is the purchaser buying beauty, or buying into a managed enterprise promising profit?

The answer determines whether disclosure statements must replace velvet-lined assurances, whether registration filings must accompany marketing campaigns, and whether regulators will view the diamond not as décor but as a financial device.

In this delicate recalibration of couture and capital, the most valuable commodity may not be the stone itself, but clarity. When luxury begins to resemble leverage, when sparkle signals strategy, the legal system performs its quiet, corrective function.

The necklace may still rest gracefully against silk. But in certain transactions, it also rests squarely within the domain of securities law.

And that, in the modern marketplace, is no small distinction.

The post Securitising the Sparkle: When Jewelry Begins to Behave Like a Security appeared first on Fashion Law Journal.

Established in 2019, Dogue has carved out a niche in canine style, culture, and celebrity dogs. The magazine, like other fashion and pop-culture publications, features fashion editorials and interviews, providing its readers with an inside look at all things canine-related in a traditional fashion media approach. 

Condé Nast, parent company of Vogue, The New Yorker, GQ, Vanity Fair, Architectural Digest, and more, has been in the media and publication business since 1909 and is now considered a renowned global media company. Having acquired Vogue in the same year, Condé Nast has guided Vogue into becoming the household name it now is. The continued expansion of Vogue into areas of product sales (excluding magazines), podcasts, and live events, such as the MET Gala, makes it clear why Vogue is one of the top industry leaders in fashion and pop-culture editorial.

The current lawsuit, filed in the California District Court, makes primary claims related to the “deliberate choice of a confusingly similar mark” and its intended and likely result in consumer confusion and false endorsement. Condé Nast seeks judicial intervention, having previously attempted non-judicial avenues of resolving the matter.

The Core of the Complaint – Trademark Infringement

The trademark infringement and common-law trademark infringement complaints detail Condé Nast’s allegations that Dogue aimed to confuse or deceive purchasers into believing it has an affiliation with Condé Nast. At the heart of the dispute is Dogue’s editorial aesthetic, which closely mirrors the look and feel of Vogue, raising the question about how far parody can go before becoming infringement. Condé Nast also claimed that it “has suffered and continues to suffer and/or is likely to suffer damages to the Vogue” trademarks and its reputation, due to the continued use of the Dogue trademark. 

Confusing the Ordinary Consumer?

The false designation of origin complaint further alleges that the continued use of the Dogue trademark in conjunction with its misleading statements is likely to cause confusion and mistake among consumers, who believe that Dogue is affiliated with Condé Nast.

Trademarks Losing Distinctiveness

The trademark dilution claim explains that the Vogue trademark is distinctive and has “acquired distinctiveness through Condé Nast’s extensive, continuous, and substantially exclusive use of it.” It is also further alleged that the continued use of the Dogue trademark will likely dilute the distinctiveness of the Vogue trademark.

Friendly or Unfair Competition?

Condé Nast included claims alleging violations of California’s unfair competition laws and common law unfair competition laws. §§ 17200 of the California Bus. & Prof. Code defines ‘unfair competition’ as unlawful or unfair business acts or practices and/or deceptive and untrue advertising. Although not detailed in the complaint, Condé Nast will likely argue that due to Dogue’s continued use of similar editorial styles as Vogue, Dogue is participating in the willful deceptive acts of misleading consumers to believe it has an affiliation with Vogue or the Condé Nast name.

Currently, the case remains in the pleading stage, with no scheduled dates of commencement or litigation.

The outcome of this case could have significant implications for the boundaries between parodies and trademark infringement. The court will need to carefully balance the competing interests at play, and, depending on its ruling, it could set an important precedent on where to draw the line between parodies and infringement under trademark law. This case will provide clarity and guidance in the current blurry line between the two, aiding lawyers, courts, trademark owners, and businesses.

Condé Nast’s Legal Claims:

Trademark Infringement – 15 U.S.C. § 1114

False Designation of Origin – 15 U.S.C. § 1125(a)

Trademark Dilution – 15 U.S.C. § 1125(c)

Common Law Trademark Infringement

Unfair Competition – Cal. Bus & Prof. Code §§ 17200

Common Law Unfair Competition.

Sources Used:

Condé Nast v. Tasty Work, LLC (Dogue) – Complaint No. 2:25-cv-11579

About Us – Dogue Magazine

California Business and Professions Code – §§ 17200

Author: Alexis Curatola

The post Blurring The Lines Between Parody And Infringement: The Condé Nast V. Dogue Dispute appeared first on Fashion Law Journal.

Why is there a clothes graveyard in the Atacama Desert? Chile imports huge volumes of secondhand and unsold clothing through the Iquique free trade zone. Garments that cannot be resold, an estimated 39,000 to 40,000 tons a year, are trucked into the desert near Alto Hospicio and dumped or burned, creating one of the world’s most visible fast fashion waste sites.

How Did Cheap Trends Create a Desert Full of Clothes?

Today’s consumerist culture demands thousands of new garments every single day. We have been sold the idea that staying fashionable requires constantly renewing our wardrobes, trend after trend, haul after haul. The question we rarely ask is where all of these clothes go when we are done with them, and what happens when consumers move on from trends faster than brands can anticipate, leaving mountains of overproduction behind.

Between 2000 and 2014, garment lifespans were cut roughly in half while global clothing production doubled, and customers increased their purchases by around 60 percent. As garments became cheaper and trend cycles accelerated, brands began producing far more clothing than the market could realistically absorb. Fast production models were never designed to match supply with actual demand. They were designed to flood customers with options, banking on volume over longevity.

It is no surprise, then, that a large share of all clothing ends up in landfills or incinerators within a year of being produced. On top of that, the Ellen MacArthur Foundation estimates that around 12 percent of the material used in production is lost before it even becomes a garment. This leaves us with textile waste as a global problem with serious environmental and public health consequences.

That global overflow becomes painfully visible in the Atacama Desert, where an estimated 40,000 tons of discarded clothing, much of it sourced from European and American channels, arrive every year. Massive dumps of clothes leach dyes and chemicals into the soil, while part of the waste is burned, dispersing pollutants that degrade air quality and threaten respiratory health in nearby communities.

Why Do So Many Clothes End Up in Chile Specifically?

Chile is one of the largest importers of secondhand clothing in South America. Bales of used and unsold garments enter through the free trade zone at Iquique, where traders sort them for resale across Chile and neighboring countries. A significant share of each bale is unsellable, and because formal disposal is costly and municipal landfills refuse textile loads, the leftovers have for years been dumped or burned in the desert outside Alto Hospicio.

The Atacama’s dry climate preserves what arrives. Synthetic garments made largely of polyester do not biodegrade on any human timescale, so the piles simply accumulate, visible even in satellite imagery. The dump is not an accident of geography. It is the end point of a global supply chain that produces more clothing than anyone can wear and exports the surplus to countries with fewer resources to manage it.

Who Is Working to Reverse the Damage on the Ground?

For years, media and consumers worldwide ignored this staggering illegal landfill. In 2021, everything changed. Photographs taken by Martin Bernetti and published by Agence France-Presse circulated widely, giving the crisis a social media presence and international recognition. That attention showcased the work of younger generations in Chile, who had already been leading initiatives to reduce textile waste and promote circularity.

An important example is Desierto Vestido, an NGO with the mission to educate, raise awareness and promote the circular economy in the textile industry through talks, workshops and desert clean up operations.

Rosario Hevia has also had a notable impact. She began with a small project focused on reusing children’s clothes and later opened Ecocitex in 2019. The company produces textile goods from yarn made entirely of damaged or discarded garments, in a process that requires no water or chemical treatments, making it one of the most genuinely circular models in the region.

Another striking private effort is Atacama RE-commerce, launched in March 2025. Garments dumped in the Atacama, many of them brand new with tags or barely worn, are recovered, cleaned, restored and offered online for free, with customers paying only shipping. In other words, you pay to pull a piece of clothing out of the desert. Every rescued piece becomes a reminder of the system that put it there, and a small step toward a future where clothes are valued rather than tossed aside.

Can Anyone Be Held Legally Responsible for the Dumping?

Civilians did not just innovate their way around the crisis; they took the issue to court. In 2022, Paulin Silva, a Chilean lawyer, filed a lawsuit against the state of Chile alleging responsibility for the massive textile landfills in Alto Hospicio.

The case finally raised the fundamental question of who can be held accountable for the damage. According to the ruling issued in September 2025, the State bears a significant role in allowing the crisis to unfold. The court ordered the government to prepare a remediation plan within six months. The State appealed the decision, and as of mid 2026 the ruling is not yet final and the case remains unresolved. Whatever the final outcome, the litigation has already shifted the conversation from individual consumer guilt toward institutional responsibility.

What Is Chile Doing About Textile Waste Under Its EPR Law?

Even while contesting legal responsibility in court, Chilean policymakers have moved toward regulating the textiles entering the country. Chile’s framework law on waste management and extended producer responsibility, known as the REP law, has been in force since 2016 and already covers products such as packaging, tires and electronics. In 2025, the government introduced a comprehensive national circular economy strategy for textiles and named the eradication of illegal textile dumps one of its central goals.

The strategy marked a turning point. For the first time, textiles were formally recognized as a priority product, the legal step that brings a waste stream under the REP framework. In practice, this means importers and brands will be required to track the garments they bring into the country, report volumes, and finance systems for collection, reuse and recycling. Detailed targets are still being developed, with the government aiming to have binding collection and recovery goals in place toward the end of the decade. For a deeper explanation of how the Chilean scheme is being designed, the Ellen MacArthur Foundation has published a useful explainer on EPR for textiles in Chile.

The strategy also seeks to strengthen Chile’s growing circular economy. By supporting repair centers, upcycling initiatives and textile recyclers, and by including them as recipients of EPR funding, policymakers aim to slow the constant arrival of garments into informal dumps while creating sustainable employment. The government has recognized that EPR can deliver social benefits by formalizing the work of informal waste pickers and securing fair conditions for them. Chilean officials also acknowledge that organizing textile waste is only part of the solution, since the problem arises from cultural and commercial forces that drive both overproduction and overconsumption.

How Does the EU’s Textile EPR Push Compare?

Chile is not acting alone. The European Union, one of the main sources of the clothing that ends up in the Atacama, agreed in 2025 on a revision of its Waste Framework Directive that makes extended producer responsibility for textiles mandatory across all member states. Producers selling clothing in the EU, including online sellers based outside the bloc, will have to fund the collection, sorting and recycling of textiles, with fees modulated so that longer lasting garments pay less. Member states have a transition period of roughly two and a half years after the revised directive entered into force to set up their national schemes, so as of mid 2026 most countries are still building them, with France’s longstanding scheme serving as the working model.

The EU is also attacking overproduction directly. Under the Ecodesign for Sustainable Products Regulation, which entered into force in 2024, a ban on the destruction of unsold apparel and footwear begins applying to large companies in July 2026, with medium sized companies following after a transition period. Together, these measures target the same dynamic that fills the Atacama: garments produced in volumes no market can absorb.

What Does the Atacama Tell Us About Fashion’s Future?

The Atacama serves as a global case study of what happens when overproduction and weak regulation collide. The desert exposes the true cost of a fashion system driven by speed, excess and profit built on volume, but it also highlights the rise of young innovators and growing legal pressure demanding systemic change.

Chile’s emerging policies, together with the EU’s regulatory turn, now serve as a blueprint for other nations facing similar crises. No single policy will erase the contamination overnight, and enforcement will decide whether these laws change outcomes on the ground. Still, the direction is unmistakable: a future marked by circularity, transparency and producer accountability. The Atacama Desert stands as both a warning and a compass, reminding us that fashion’s future depends not only on what we create, but on what we refuse to waste.

Frequently Asked Questions

Where exactly is the clothes graveyard in the Atacama Desert?

The main dumping grounds sit outside Alto Hospicio, a municipality near the port city of Iquique in northern Chile, close to the free trade zone through which most secondhand clothing enters the country.

How much clothing is dumped in the Atacama each year?

Estimates commonly cited by researchers and local organizations put the figure at roughly 39,000 to 40,000 tons of discarded textiles per year, a share of the far larger volume of used clothing imported through Iquique.

What is extended producer responsibility (EPR) for textiles?

EPR is a legal principle that makes producers financially and operationally responsible for their products at end of life. For textiles, that means brands and importers must fund collection, sorting, reuse and recycling instead of leaving the cost to municipalities and communities.

Has Chile’s textile EPR scheme taken effect yet?

Not fully. As of mid 2026, textiles have been designated a priority product under Chile’s REP law and a national strategy is in place, but the detailed decree setting binding collection and recycling targets is still being developed.

Will EU rules actually reduce dumping in places like the Atacama?

They can help. Mandatory EPR fees and the ban on destroying unsold goods raise the cost of overproduction, and the EU is also moving to tighten rules on exporting textile waste disguised as secondhand clothing. Enforcement, both in Europe and at receiving ports, will determine the real impact.

References

• Bartlett, J. (2025, June 26). Chile targets fast fashion waste with landmark desert cleanup plan. The Guardian.
• Ellen MacArthur Foundation. (2017). A new textiles economy: Redesigning fashion’s future.
• Ellen MacArthur Foundation. (2024). EPR for textiles in Chile.
• European Commission. Waste Framework Directive and Ecodesign for Sustainable Products Regulation resources.
• FRANCE 24. (2021, November 8). Chile’s desert dumping ground for fast fashion leftovers.
• Ministry of the Environment, Chile. (2025). Textiles, circular economy strategy.
• Ordenez, J. (2024, February 22). De quien es la culpa? La demanda contra Chile por los basurales de ropa en el desierto. La Tercera.
• Re-commerce Atacama. Our suppliers.
• United Nations Economic Commission for Europe. (2018, July 12). UN Alliance aims to put fashion on path to sustainability.

Author: Viviana Sofia Chavarria Medrano

Viviana is a law student at the University of Costa Rica (UCR). She is passionate about fashion law and human rights, and how these two fields connect through the legal promotion and oversight of sustainable production in the fashion industry. She loves books, learning, hiking, tennis, and, above all, fashion design.

The post Fashion’s Desert Graveyard: Atacama Waste and Chile’s EPR appeared first on Fashion Law Journal.

Statement of Problem: The transition of the fashion industry to sustainability has led to an increase in environmental claims on marketing materials, product labels and corporate communication. However, such sustainability certification systems lack uniform legal criteria across countries, which facilitates greenwashing.

Research Objectives:

1. To explore current legal frameworks regulating eco-claims in major fashion markets.
2. To identify structural and enforcement deficiencies that allow deceptive greenwashing claims in the fashion industry.
3. To assess the effectiveness of recent legislative measures and formulate a comprehensive legal framework concerning greenwashing claims.
4. To analyse consumer psychology concerning environmental claims with regard to fashion products
5. To evaluate current certification standards of green claims in the fashion industry and their legal enforceability.

Hypothesis: The lack of a harmonized, binding legal framework defining and verifying environmental claims in the fashion industry creates a regulatory enforcement deficit that facilitates greenwashing and weakens consumer protection law.

Methodology: The study utilizes doctrinal research method, which encompasses comparative legal analysis of environmental marketing regulations in the EU, US, UK, and India and case study investigation of some of the latest greenwashing suits in the fashion industry. It also employs a critical analysis method to analyze and evaluate the law relating to greenwashing in various jurisdictions.

Findings: Findings reveal a big difference in regulations, with the EU’s Green Claims Directive setting a global standard for strict, uniform rules. India, on the other hand, doesn’t have any specific laws against greenwashing, which makes it easy for fashion brands to make false claims.  While India’s framework remains underdeveloped, the US model demonstrates the potent deterrence of class action lawsuits, which impose significant financial and reputational costs.  India could benefit from both creating strict laws and giving the courts more power to allow similar lawsuits by consumers.

Suggestions: The proposed legal framework encompasses augmented disclosure requirements for the evidentiary foundation of sustainability claims, harmonized cross-border enforcement mechanisms for internationally recognized fashion brands, and stringent penalties in the existing law to promote systemic compliance.

Introduction

Fashion purchasing encompasses cognitive and emotive dimensions (Cho et. al., 2014). Cognitive actions encompass strategic planning, which involves the reasonable assessment of one’s wardrobe and requirements to determine an appropriate item for purchase. Affective or emotional elements encompass pleasure, excitement, guilt, loss of control, and regret. Individuals purchase items to alleviate depressive moods, convey their identity, or simply for pleasure. They provide solace, assistance, and gratification through acquisitions. Individuals engage in compulsive purchasing when they perceive it as socially acceptable. Fashion media and social influencers significantly contribute to public education regarding social conventions. They are concurrently affected by the booming fashion public relations sector (Ekinci et. al., 2025). The fashion industry has a huge impact on this psychological landscape. Marketing doesn’t just sell a product; it sells an ideal, a story, and a sense of self. This story is becoming more and more green as people become more aware of the environment. Not only do consumers want style, but they also want luxury and fulfillment from purchasing things that are beneficial for our planet as well as ethical. This sturdy emotional appeal to be both sophisticated and responsible has popularized the environmental claims as a useful way to advertise products.

But this rise in eco-friendly marketing has also made it easier for producers and traders to deceive consumers (Ummar et al., 2023). As consumers these days are more influenced by social media handles like Instagram and Facebook, where influencer advertising with regard to green products moulds social norms, the brands are using it as an opportunity to showcase their environmental credentials. The fact that many sustainability certifications are voluntary and that there are no clear legal standards across all markets has given rise to an immense regulatory gap (De Freitas Netto et. al., 2020). This disparity has let the deceptive practice of greenwashing grow, in which the emotional appeal of an eco-claim is intentionally detached from its logical and factual basis (Dorfleitner, 2023).

This paper deals with the disjunction between emotional marketing and verifiable facts that constitute not only an ethical shortcoming but also a legal loophole. The law has had a difficult time keeping up with the fashion industry, which is full of green messages. This study delved into the existing laws that are meant to ensure that fashion brands are authentic about their environmental claims. It goes beyond the psychology of desire and looks at the laws against lying in big markets like the EU, US, UK, and India. The study finds important structural and enforcement gaps that let misleading greenwashing continue, looks at the potential of new laws like the EU’s Green Claims Directive, and suggests a complete legal framework to fill the gaps. At last, this research states that strong, uniform legal enforcement is the fundamental prerequisite for safeguarding consumer confidence, fostering genuine environmental innovation, and ensuring that the fashion industry’s green revolution is established on authenticity instead of mere marketing gimmicks.

Deconstructing Greenwashing in the Fashion Context

The fashion industry constitutes around $2.4 trillion and hires about 300 million people around the world(“What is the UN Alliance for Sustainable Fashion?”, 2025). It has a massive impact on environmental resources. It makes up 20% of the world’s wastewater and costs $100 billion a year in lost profits because it isn’t used enough and isn’t recycled (Bailey et. al., 2025). It also causes 9% of the microplastics that leak into the oceans each year (Kounina et al., 2024). The industry makes about 92 million tons of finished goods every year, using up 79 billion litres of water (Centobelli et al., 2022). The carbon emissions from the product life cycle are similar to those of all 28 EU member countries put together and are higher than those of international shipping and aviation (Bildirici et. al., 2025). Fast fashion makes these problems even more unmanageable. As estimated, by 2030, the fashion waste is expected to reach 148 million tons (Chandana S, 2025).

Fashion industries are heading towards more accountable and sustainable measures as consumers are becoming more conscious regarding the products they buy. Also, the approach of lawmakers to exert liability on the fashion brands, ensuring that manufacturing meets carbon emission criteria and reinforcing the production of clothes manufactured through clean technologies, the brands see sustainability as a means to improve their reputation and gain a competitive edge. Some companies, on the other hand, do ‘greenwashing’, which means making environmental claims without really caring about them or being honest about them in order to make their brand look better (Schmuck, 2018). Greenwashing can take the form of symbolic actions that focus on small problems, draw attention away from practices that aren’t good for the environment, or misrepresent real efforts to protect the environment (Terra Choice Environmental Marketing, 2009). The H&M case in 2013, in which claims that products were ‘eco-conscious’ were found to be false and misleading, is a good example of this (Brinquis, 2023).

A lot of green claims around the world don’t have any evidence or reliable information to back them up, which confuses consumers and makes sustainable practices less trustworthy. For example, a report from 2009 said that 98% of products that made green claims were actually greenwashing, and that green advertising was growing a lot (Bender, 2011). The European Commission found that 53% of eco-claims give imprecise, deceptive and unverified information, and 40% of them don’t possess any credible information (“Green claims,” 2025). The rise of sustainability labels with different levels of transparency shows that consumers need standardized and clear practices to help them make decisions.

Greenwashing adversely influences consumers, stakeholders, as well as the environment by making people less likely to believe what companies say and possibly negatively impacting their finances and reputation, even when they are not acting deceitfully. Many certifications and indexes exist within the fashion world, such as the ‘Higg Index’ and ‘GOTS accreditation’, that indicate sustainable practices in the fashion sector (Gonçalves and Silva, 2021). Deplorably, the majority of these initiatives function as sustainability facades for fashion brands, endorsing extensive greenwashing accompanied by a substantial shortcoming in transparency. Moreover, these enterprises frequently employ ambiguous terminology, keywords (e.g., eco-friendly, chemical-free, organic, and sustainable), and strategies to disseminate deceptive marketing communications (Beard, 2008).  This perpetuates misunderstandings of environmentally relevant terms and creates a disparity between consumer expectations and the information provided by corporations. The paper, “Synthetics Anonymous: Fashion labels’ Addiction to Fossil Fuels”, analyzed around 50 prominent fashion labels, including ostensibly transparent entities such as Zara, Primark, H&M, and Burberry (Trunk et al., 2023). This study evaluated the quantity of fossil-fuel-derived raw materials in their collections and their pledges to diminish them.  H&M, ASOS, and M&S were recognized as the most egregious violators, with erroneous claims of 96%, 89%, and 88%, respectively (“Response: Charging Markets (Letter from Charging Markets to UK Government),” 2021). Additionally, it was found that the so-called eco-conscious collection of one of the leading fast fashion brands, i.e. H&M, comprised a large percentage of synthetics, i.e. 72% in contrast to its main selection (61%)(Riches, 2022).

Asidefrom the presence of certifications and programs to recognize eco-conscious fashion, misleading practices, ambiguous terminology and insufficient disclosures persist, which mislead consumers. It underscores the pressing requirement for improved accountability and a reconsideration of existing sustainability standards within the fashion industry. As global awareness meets the significant adverse effects of climate change, the fashion trade reaches a crucial moment, where the dialogue on sustainability evolves. The fashion trade comes third in the sequence after food, recreation and culture, which significantly exploits our water resources. In 2020, EU-27 homes utilized around 4,000 million m³ of water for the production of textiles (Chen et al., 2021). As per the data ofthe  European Environmental Agency, 2022, it is revealed that fashion exploits a large portion of our land, following food and housing, accounting for 400m² per person (European Environment Agency, 2024). The fashion sector, encompassing the entire life cycle of its products, is particularly rapid, leading to significant trash generation in a brief period and contributing to 35% of the main microplastics released into the environment (Aponte et al., 2024). In 2015, 195 countries recognized unified strategic objectives for mitigating carbon emissions under the Climate Protection Agreement (Bee, 2020). As a result, a substantial rise in interest has been observed among consumers in eco-friendly products.

Regulatory Frameworks Across Key Jurisdictions

The fashion industry around the world is incredibly steadfast in sustainability, but at the same time,e there has been a rise in the incidents of greenwashing. Such incidents have led various countries to come up with certain laws and guidelines to combat this unethical trade practice. Such regulations are based on three important ideas, e.g. specificity, evidence, and integrity. The European Union is becoming the undisputed leader, building a strong legal wall that goes beyond reactive enforcement to proactive, standardized rules. ‘The Unfair Commercial Practices Directive (UCPD)’, which bans misleading business practices, is at the heart of its approach (“Unfair commercial practices directive,” 2005). A document which was released by the European Commission in 2021 made it unequivocal as to how UCPD should be used to publish any environmental claims. It stated that all claims must be correct, precise, explicit, and backed up by strong, certifiable scientific evidence. It also warned against vague, unqualified claims like ‘eco-friendly’. ‘The Empowering Consumers for the Green Transition Directive’, which was passed in February 2024, bans fashion brands from making any unsubstantiated claims in the form of terms like ‘eco-friendly’ or ‘sustainable ‘ unless they can provide any concrete evidence to prove their claim (Bank, 2024). This EU directive is expected to be enforced on September 27, 2026. The Green Claims Directive, which was proposed in March 2023, also wanted to make a consistent, detailed way to prove claims. It said that companies had to do a full life-cycle assessment and show proof for every claim, with independent verification and a QR code for easy digital linking (Bank, 2024). However, this directive faced political criticisms that led to a temporary hold in June 2025. As of August 2025, there had been no final adoption, which leaves a gap in the originally envisioned directive. Progress is still being made through the Empowering Consumers Directive and existing UCPD enforcement. Therefore, such directives as well as legislative frameworks are being introduced to put the burden of proof firmly on the fashion brands.

The United States of America, alternatively, has a more decentralized and litigation-heavy legislative framework to deal with greenwashing (Lorance, 2010). Such a system is mostly regulated by the Federal Trade Commission (FTC) and its Green Guides. The Green Guides are not laws, but these are proposals that elucidate how the FTC sees existing law under Section 5 of the FTC Act, which prohibits misleading advertisements (Rotman and David-Pennington, 2024). The strength of the FTC Act comes from the fact that its provisions give a comprehensive as well as claim-specific assistance. For example, explaining when a fashion product can be considered as ‘recyclable’ or ‘compostable’, etc.  The provisions largely empower the FTC to prevent any unfair methods of competition in the market. However, the effectiveness of such a law has remained debated because of the several ambiguities in its provisions. Likewise, because these provisions haven’t been updated since 2012, there are huge gaps, especially when it comes to terms like ‘sustainable’ or ‘natural’. This Act does not clearly define the meaning of such terms. As a result of the weak enforcement of the FTC Act, the FTC started reviewing its ‘Green Guides’ again in December 2022. As of August 2025, no changes have been made because the new administration has other things to focus on (Basila, 2024). Enforcement mostly happens after the fact, through FTC investigations and civil penalties, or through expensive private class-action lawsuits where consumers say they were tricked into buying something by false advertising. Several lawsuits have been filed against vendors for making ambiguous eco-claims about the sustainability of rayon or recycled polyester. The recent actions of the FTC comprise settling with big stores in 2024 and 2025 over false claims. It shows that the FTC is taking a tougher stance, especially on claims about ‘recyclability’ and carbon offsets (Qanbar, 2025). Therefore, the US laws and regulations are still a combination of federal guidance and state laws. It relies on the threat of enforcement actions and lawsuits instead of pre-existing legislative standardization.

If we talk about the United Kingdom, after Brexit, it is at a regulatory crossroads. The UK is still using a system that is similar to the one it had when it was part of the EU. The Competition and Markets Authority (CMA) is the main enforcer of greenwashing law in the UK. It derives its powers from the ‘Consumer Protection from Unfair Trading Regulations 2008’(Romata et al., 2023). One of the major steps of CMA in implementing the greenwashing law in the UK is publishing the ‘Green Claims Code’. The green claims code is based on principles similar to the UCPD guidance of the European Union (Feijao et al., 2021). This code states that environmental claims must be accurate, honest and must prove the authenticity of such claims, taking into consideration the full product lifecycle. The CMA has backed this code by thoroughly inspecting the fashion brands and launching investigations into their green claims (Nagode, 2023). They have also made changes to make sure that companies follow the rules. ‘The Digital Markets, Competition and Consumers Act, 2024’, which was enforced on January 1, 2025, as well as on April 6, 2025, entrusts the CMA with the power to levy fines, i.e. up to 10% of the global turnover of the fashion company involved for contravening consumer law (Borthwick et al., 2025). Within this Act, the CMA can exercise its powers without referring the case to the courts. This change from a litigation-based to an administrative penalty-based model implies that the UK is moving toward a sturdier, EU-style enforcement system. It also suggests that the UK may want to position itself as a leader in the fight against greenwashing, even though it is going in a different direction than some EU laws.

India has made a huge and proactive move in South Asia by becoming a regulatory leader in the developing world. The Central Consumer Protection Authority (CCPA), as provided under the Consumer Protection Act, 2019, released the ‘Guidelines for Prevention and Regulation of Greenwashing or Misleading Environmental Claims, 2024’ on October 15, 2024, following a draft that was released in February 2024 (Kishwar et al., 2024). Within such guidelines, the CCPA has introduced the important notion of ‘comparative claims’, which means that any environmental benefit claimed must be explicated in terms that an average person could understand (Bhat and Mohanta, 2025). For instance, instead of saying that ‘a number of percentages of electricity’ has been saved while manufacturing a particular piece of cloth, they should say about the ‘units of electricity’ which were saved. The CCPA straightforwardly address the issue of carbon neutrality by requiring that any such claim be substantiated by clear and specific information about the carbon credits bought, their source, authenticity, and ownership (Kaur, 2024). As per the guidelines, the businesses should also make it clear what the difference is between offsetting and reducing the product’s actual emissions. The rules also follow a principle of totality, which means that companies have to make sure that any specific green claim about an attribute doesn’t give the wrong idea about the product’s overall environmental impact. For example, a small recycled thread can’t be used to suggest that a garment is completely ‘sustainable’. They also require a ‘reliability’ test, which means that all claims must be true for the entire life of the product and under normal use conditions. They also don’t allow the use of misleading visual elements, like green logos or pictures of nature, that could make it look like the product has an environmental credential. The Consumer Protection Act of 2019 gives the CCPA the power to punish violations with large fines (up to INR 10 lakh for first offences and INR 50 lakh for repeat offences) and even jail time for repeat offenders (Ministry of Consumer Affairs, Food & Public Distribution, 2025). This makes India’s enforcement mechanism, in principle, as good as the best ones in the world, but its effectiveness in practice will depend on consistent enforcement.

Bangladesh and Sri Lanka, both countries, are emerging as major fashion manufacturing hubs that are still in their early stages of developing their legal regulations with regard to textile manufacturing (Das and Hewalage, 2025). As of August 2025, their legal frameworks are generally based on broader consumer protection laws and are just guidelines rather than imposing any stricter penalties for making false fashion eco-claims. They don’t have any specific, legally binding rules against greenwashing. For example, Bangladesh’s main organization, the Bangladesh Standards and Testing Institution (BSTI), is more concerned with product quality and safety standards than with marketing claims (Ala Uddin, 2025). However, the pressure from international brands and export markets, especially the EU and the USA, reveals that such pressure is compelling Bangladeshi manufacturers to adopt environmentally friendly processes and be more transparent about their eco-claims. This makes it so that local supply chains follow global standards even when there aren’t strict laws in place in the country. This means that the EU’s Empowering Consumers Directive has an effect on South Asian manufacturing even though it doesn’t have any laws in place.

Greenwashing and Consumer Protection Laws: A Jurisprudential Critique

Experience of the fashion industry with greenwashing law in various places around the globe reveals a fundamental conflict between the aspirational language of marketing and the legal requirement for certifiable truth.  Consumer protection law, which was originally meant to stop upfront deception, is now in charge of a much murkier area: the implied promise of ecological virtue. The European Union, the United States, and India all have different ideas about how to govern this space. The EU’s approach is to standardise truth ahead of time, while the US’s approach is to react to lawsuits, and India’s new guidelines are more declarative and paternalistic.

The EU’s approach is a kind of legal instrumentalism, which means that it uses the law as a proactive tool to build a green market that people can trust. If the Green Claims Directive, which was brought up in 2023 in the European Union, were to become law, it would go beyond punishing deceptive advertising as it proactively defines environmental integrity through standardised Life Cycle Assessment (LCA) methodologies (Riordan, 2024). Environmental integrity in the fashion sector means minimizing the adverse impact of textile manufacturing by adopting responsible sourcing, minimizing waste, reducing water usage as well as pollution and promoting recyclability of the textiles. This directive, therefore, puts a positivist legal framework on the subjective world of sustainability, making it conceivable for claims to be assessed in a legally binding way.  It puts all the responsibility on businesses to prove their claims, requiring that any green claim be verified by a third party and made available online before a product can even be sold. This is a social democratic idea in which the government shapes the market to protect the common good and make sure that consumers have a real ‘right to know’.

Alternatively, the United States of America runs on a model of consumer sovereignty that is driven by legal realism and adversarial litigation. The Green Guide launched by the FTC are not a law that must be trailed, but they do show how the agency plans to enforce them (Basila, 2024). There have been no amendments to it since 2012, despite a review that started in 2022. However, the Green Guides represent a robust protection of consumers against deceptive fashion eco-claims because it heavily penalizes the fashion companies through class-action lawsuits. This particular code is in tune with the neoliberal idea that lawsuits and pecuniary damages act effectively in order to check the deceptive marketing of fashion articles. But this system naturally favors going after giant, wealthy brands and claims that are clearly false instead of just vague ones. It also acts as a minimalist state approach that inflicting the fashion brands from litigation will deter them from making any false environmental claims. This often fails to address more subtle forms of greenwashing because it is hard to win a lawsuit.

‘Guidelines for Prevention and Regulation of Greenwashing or Misleading Environmental Claims, 2024’ in India depicts that the government is taking a strong stand against false eco-claims in the fashion sector (Kishwar et al., 2024). These guidelines are based on the Consumer Protection Act of 2019. The Central Consumer Protection Authority (CCPA) is the state’s way of saying that it is a protector. The guidelines are strong because they make specific rules against things like ‘eco-friendly’ or ‘green’ claims that aren’t true, require clear information about whether a claim applies to the product or just its packaging, and check the use of green imagery (like leaves or earth tones) that might suggest a false virtue. This is not the EU’s way of making the truth, but a sovereign claim of power to make the story easier to understand and keep people from being manipulated. Therefore, it links consumer law directly to social justice.

 Important Case Laws in Fashion Greenwashing

1.  Abraham Lizama, et al. v. H&M Hennes & Mauritz LP: 

H&M’s ‘Conscious Choice’ collection purportedly comprises clothing manufactured from eco-friendly materials. However, H&M’s claim is false, as alleged by the plaintiff in this class action lawsuit (Shendruk, 2022). The plaintiffs said that the environmental scorecards that came with products (like ‘This garment is made with 20% less water’) were misleading because they were based on an internal, undefined benchmark instead of a standard that could be checked by the industry (Rizzi, 2022). The suit claimed that this was not just a harmless lie, but a planned ‘marketing ploy’ to justify high prices and attract environmentally conscious customers. The court threw out the case in May 2023, saying that the relative claims (like more sustainable) were not inherently misleading. This case directly questioned the legality of self-defined, relative claims, which are the very basis of fashion greenwashing. The dismissal set a precedent that internal, comparative data can suffice if not outright false, but it has spurred calls for stricter external standards, influencing how brands approach substantiation in ongoing regulatory discussions.

1. Dwyer v. Allbirds Inc.: 

In this class-action lawsuit, Allbirds deceived consumers by making a false claim stating that its ZQ-certified merino wool shoes were ‘sustainable’ without disclosing the complete details about the full product lifecycle and manufacturing process (Shaak, 2022). It was upheld that the eco-claims of the subject brand were found to be false. In June 2022, the case was thrown out.

This case got to the bottom of the philosophical issue of greenwashing- is there really a product that can be called ‘sustainable’?  It made the law think about whether broad, absolute claims can ever be proven true or if they are always false advertising.  The dismissal exposed how important it is to use an unambiguous terminology as required under EU guidelines. It also displayed how the inclination is moving away from broader terms and toward specific, certifiable traits such as ethically sourced wool or grazed on regenerative land. In 2022, the Competition and Markets Authority of the UK started examining ASOS, Boohoo, and Asda (including George at Asda) for potentially making dishonest claims about being ecologically friendly. This could have led consumers to have confidence that those products were better for the environment without any obvious proof (Neate and Butler, 2022). The enquiry ended in March 2024 with no monetary penalty. Later on, the companies signed an agreement to make their environmental claims explicit. In this suit, the CMA acted as a watchdog on its own, contrasting the US litigation model. This suit makes it clear that regulators are not merely scrutinising the product tags but are meticulously examining the whole digital marketing process that fashion brands employ to advertise the eco-friendly nature of their products.

Conclusion

The evolution of a legal regime to deal with greenwashing in the fashion industry marks an end to the time when people could make deceptive environmental claims. The preventive standardization approach of the European Union through its regulations like the Unfair Commercial Practices Directive and the Empowering Consumers Directive, the litigious enforcement through the Green Guides and class-action lawsuits in the USA, and the proactive investigations by the Competition and Markets Authority in the UK, are creating a multi-faceted response to the complex issue of greenwashing.  The ‘Guidelines for Prevention and Regulation of Greenwashing or Misleading Environmental Claims, 2024’, formulated by CCPA in India, is a commendable move (“Guidelines for Prevention of Misleading Advertisements and Endorsements for Misleading Advertisements, 2022,” 2022). It displays how India is coming out as a regulatory leader in the Global South. However, there is a long way to go to convert these guidelines enacted in various parts of the world into a stricter law against greenwashing. Especially for India, in order to reach its full potential, it requires moving beyond basic guidelines and creating a comprehensive code to penalize the phenomenon like greenwashing. The Bureau of Indian Standards and the CCPA could work together to create such a set of standards to deal with deception in fashion marketing. This would ensure that the brands follow a verifiable system of measurement instead of skewed marketing. Enforcement should become a multi-stakeholder ecosystem, with dedicated technical teams strengthening the CCPA and encouraging consumer groups and NGOs to file representative lawsuits under the Consumer Protection Act. This will promote shared vigilance. A centralized digital portal for the public to report false fashion claims would make the market more accountable.

India’s strategy should introduce sterner punishments for deceptive marketing, with the possibility of imprisonment for recurrence of misleading claims by the fashion brands. However, a government-recognised seal for claims verified by accredited third parties could help real, sustainable brands and build trust among consumers.  Global South nations like India, Bangladesh and Sri Lanka, which are emerging as a major manufacturing epicentre in the world, need to make sure that their legal framework supports smaller producers to meet global standards by giving them access to clean technologies and compliance advice. This would ensure verified sustainable manufacturingas a high-value export.  These countries should bring up a new enforcement model that protects consumers, permits ethical trade, and makes greenwashing law a global standard for environmental integrity by combining the rigorous standards of the EU, the market-driven accountability from the USA, and the proactive oversight of the UK. This may convert the promise of sustainable fashion into a reality.

References:

1) “Green claims” (2025) European Commission. Available at: https://environment.ec.europa.eu/topics/circular-economy/green-claims_en (Accessed: September 3, 2025).

2) “Response: Charging Markets (Letter from Charging Markets to UK Government)” (2021) Changing Markets Foundation. Available at: https://assets.publishing.service.gov.uk/media/63d01a3fe90e071ba1c26828/Changing_Markets_response.pdf (Accessed: September 3, 2025).

3) “Unfair commercial practices directive” (2005) European Commission. Available at: https://commission.europa.eu/law/law-topic/consumer-protection-law/unfair-commercial-practices-and-price-indication/unfair-commercial-practices-directive_en (Accessed: September 3, 2025).

4) “What is the UN Alliance for Sustainable Fashion?” (no date) UN Alliance for Sustainable Fashion. Available at: https://unfashionalliance.org/ (Accessed: September 2, 2025).

5) Ala Uddin, M. (2025) “Consumer Justice in Bangladesh: An Insight into the Efficacy of the Consumer Rights Protection Act,” Human Rights Law Review, 4(4), pp. 491–512.

6) ASCI (2024) “Greenwashing No More: ASCI Introduces Guidelines to Ensure Honest Environmental Claims in Advertisements (PRESS RELEASE).” Available at: https://www.ascionline.in/wp-content/uploads/2024/01/PR-Guidelines-for-Enviormental-Green-Claims-Final.pdf (Accessed: March 27, 2024).

7) ASCI (2024) “Guidelines for Advertisements Making Environmental/ Green Claims.” Available at: https://www.ascionline.in/wp-content/uploads/2024/01/Guidelines-for-Advertisements-Making-Environmental-Green-Claims.pdf (Accessed: March 27, 2024).

8) Bailey, K., Basu, A. and Sharma, S. (2025) “The Environmental Impacts of Fast Fashion on Water Quality: A Systematic Review,” Water, 14(7), p. 1073.

9) Bank, E. (2024) “Fashion’s Greenwashing Problem and How to Better Protect Consumers,” Rutgers University Law Review Comments, 76, pp. 125–142.

10)   Basila, S. (2024) “The FTC Green Guides and Recyclability,” The Regulatory Review. Available at: https://www.theregreview.org/2024/12/01/basila-the-ftc-green-guides-and-recyclability/ (Accessed: September 3, 2025).

11)   Beard, N.D. (2008) “The Branding of Ethical Fashion and the Consumer: A Luxury Niche or Mass-market Reality?,” Fashion Theory, 12(4), pp. 447–467.

12)   Bee, R.J. (2020) “Climate change and the global order,” Foreign Policy Association, pp. 7–18. Available at: https://www.jstor.org/stable/10.2307/27161563.

13)   Bender, J. (2011) The Ins and Outs of Corporate Greenwashing. Master’s Theses. Fordham University.

14)   Bhat, S. and Mohanta, J. (2025) “Greenwashing law: A fresh start for green consumerism,” Bar and Bench. Available at: https://www.barandbench.com/columns/greenwashing-law-a-fresh-start-for-green-consumerism (Accessed: September 3, 2025).

15)   Bildirici, M., Türkkahraman, I., and Ömer Ersin, Ö. (2025) “Unraveling the Environmental Impacts of the Fashion Industry: A Fourier-Based Analysis of Pollution Dynamics and Causality Across Five Countries,” Sustainability, 17(1), p. 69.

16)   Borthwick, A., Jurkiw, A., Daun, S., Ferguson, V. (2025) “Digital Markets, Competition and Consumers Act 2024 explained: The CMA’s new enforcement toolkit,” Womble Bond Dickinson. Available at: https://www.womblebonddickinson.com/uk/insights/articles-and-briefings/digital-markets-competition-and-consumers-act-2024-explained-cmas (Accessed: September 3, 2025).

17)   Brinquis, B.F. (2023) Examining Greenwashing In H&M´S Environmental Green Advertising on Instagram. Master’s Theses. Tampere University.

18)   Centobelli, P., Abbate, S., Nadeem, S.P., Garza-Reyes, J.A. (2022) “Slowing the fast fashion industry: An all-round perspective,” Current Opinion in Green and Sustainable Chemistry, 38, p. 100684.

19)   Chandana S (2025) “Beyond fast fashion: How India can turn textile waste into a sustainable future,” India Today. Available at: https://www.indiatoday.in/environment/story/fast-fashion-slow-fashion-circular-economy-textile-waste-textile-pollution-2702866-2025-04-03 (Accessed: September 3, 2025).

20)   Chen, X., Memon, H.A., Wang, Y., Marriam, I. and Tebyetekerwa, M. (2021) “Circular Economy and Sustainability of the Clothing and Textile Industry,” Materials Circular Economy, 3(1), p. 12.

21)   Cho, E., Fiore, A.M. and Russell, D.W. (2014) “Validation of a Fashion Brand Image Scale Capturing Cognitive, Sensory, and Affective Associations: Testing Its Role in an Extended Brand Equity Model,” Psychology & Marketing, Wiley Online Library, 32(1), pp. 28–48.

22)   Das, S. and Hewalage, H.S.D.D.L. (2025) Enhancing Circularity in the Textile and Apparel Industry: Current Practices, Challenges and Opportunities from Manufacturers’ Perspective. Master’s Theses. The Swedish School of Textiles, University of Borås.

23)   de Freitas Netto, S.V., Sobral, M.F.F., Ribeiro, A.R.B. (2020) “Concepts and forms of greenwashing: a systematic review,” Environmental Sciences Europe, 32(19).

24)   Ekinci, Y., Dam, S. and Buckle, G. (2025) “The Dark Side of Social Media Influencers: A Research Agenda for Analysing Deceptive Practices and Regulatory Challenges,” Psychology & Marketing, Wiley Online Library, 42(4), pp. 1201–1214.

25)   European Environment Agency (2024) “Land use in the upstream supply chain of EU-27 household consumption domains, million km2, 2020,” European Environment Agency. Available at: https://www.eea.europa.eu/en/analysis/maps-and-charts/land-use-in-the-upstream (Accessed: September 3, 2025).

26)   Feijao, S., Havard-Williams, V. and Barrett, R. (2021) “UK CMA publishes Green Claims Code to combat ‘greenwashing,’” Linklaters. Available at: https://sustainablefutures.linklaters.com/post/102h6ul/uk-cma-publishes-green-claims-code-to-combat-greenwashing (Accessed: August 3, 2025).

27)   Gonçalves, A., and Silva, C. (2021) “Looking for Sustainability Scoring in Apparel: A Review on Environmental Footprint, Social Impacts and Transparency,” Energies, 14(11), p. 3032.

28)   Jaju, A. (2016) A study of the Impact of Green Marketing on Consumer Purchasing Patterns and Decision Making in Telangana, India. Master’s Theses. National College of Ireland.

29)   Kaur, A. (2024) “Pre-Requisite Caveats – CCPA Ring-Fences Greenwashing and Misleading Environmental Claims,” Khaitan & Co. Available at: https://www.khaitanco.com/thought-leaderships/Pre-Requisite-Caveats-CCPA-Ring-Fences-Greenwashing-and-Misleading-Environmental-Claims (Accessed: September 3, 2025).

30)   Kishwar, S.D., Saraswat, V., and Agarwal, R. (2024) “Exploring the True Shade of Green: A Critical Examination of the Central Consumer Protection Authority’s Guidelines on Corporate Greenwashing,” International Journal on Consumer Law and Practice, 12(3), pp. 1–23.

31)   Kounina, A., Daystar, J., Chalumeau, S. (2024) “The global apparel industry is a significant yet overlooked source of plastic leakage,” Nature communications, 15(1), p. 5022.

32)   Lorance, A. (2010) “An Assessment of U.S. Responses to Greenwashing and Proposals to Improve Enforcement,” Hofstra Law Student Works, 3, pp. 1–25.

33)   Maysonnave, A. and Delorme, N. (2013) Deceptive Advertising and Consumers’ Reactions. Doctoral Thesis. Halmstad University.

34)   Midha, A., Midha, S., and Mathur, Sanjeela. (2013) “Buying Behaviour of Consumers towards Green Buildings in Delhi-NCR,” Gian Jyoti E-Journal, 3(3), pp. 1–9.

35)   Ministry of Consumer Affairs, Food & Public Distribution (2025) “Central Consumer Protection Authority (CCPA) imposes penalty of Rs 10 Lakh on Rapido-online ride hailing platform for misleading advertisement,” PIB Delhi. Available at: https://www.pib.gov.in/PressReleasePage.aspx?PRID=2158830 (Accessed: September 3, 2025).

36)   Mu, H. and Lee, Y. (2023) “Greenwashing in Corporate Social Responsibility: A Dual-Faceted Analysis of Its Impact on Employee Trust and Identification,” Sustainability, 15(22), p. 15693.

37)   Nagode, D. (2023) “Sense and Sustainability: Is the new Green Claims Directive going to advance the cause of green consumerism?” European Law Blog. Available at: https://www.europeanlawblog.eu/pub/sense-and-sustainability-is-the-new-green-claims-directive-going-to-advance-the-cause-of-green-consumerism/release/1 (Accessed: September 3, 2025).

38)   Neate, R. and Butler, S. (2022) “Asos, Boohoo and George at Asda investigated over eco-friendly claims,” The Guardian. Available at: https://www.theguardian.com/business/2022/jul/29/asos-boohoo-george-at-asda-investigated-over-eco-friendly-claims-sustainability (Accessed: September 3, 2025).

39)   Olivar Aponte, N., Hernández Gómez, J., Torres Argüelles, V., & Smith, E. D. (2024) “Fast fashion consumption and its environmental impact: a literature review,” Sustainability: Science, Practice and Policy, 20(1).

40)   Qanbar, Y. (2025) “Made in USA Lawsuits Surge in 2025: FTC Enforcement and Class Actions Target False Labeling,” Rain Intelligence. Available at: https://www.rainintelligence.com/blog/made-in-usa-lawsuits-2025 (Accessed: September 3, 2025).

41)   Riches, A. (2022) “The Fashion Industry Is Not As ‘Green’ As It Would Like You to Believe,” Duke Environmental Law & Policy Forum, 33(1), pp. 83–111.

42)   Riordan, E.O. (2024) “All You Need to Know About the EU’s New Greenwashing Directive,” Earth. Org. Available at: https://earth.org/all-you-need-to-know-about-the-eus-new-greenwashing-directive/ (Accessed: September 3, 2025).

43)   Rizzi, C. (2022) “‘Greenwashing’ Class Action Alleges H&M Sustainability Profiles Contain ‘Falsified Information,’” ClassAction.Org. Available at: https://www.classaction.org/news/greenwashing-class-action-alleges-handm-sustainability-profiles-contain-falsified-information (Accessed: September 3, 2025).

44)   Romata, Z., Abrahams, D. and Gillett, T. (2023) “Greenwashing Claims in the UK: Greater Enforcement and Higher Penalties,” Steptoe. Available at: https://www.steptoe.com/en/news-publications/greenwashing-claims-in-the-uk-greater-enforcement-and-higher-penalties.html (Accessed: September 3, 2025).

45)   Rotman, R.M. and David-Pennington, A. (2024) “Truth in Advertising for Environmental Sustainability,” UC Law Environmental Journal, 31(1), pp. 94–123.

46)   Russell, C.A. and Parguel, B. (2015) “Can Nature-Evoking Elements in Advertising Greenwash Consumers? The Power of ‘Executional Greenwashing,” International Journal of Advertising, 34(1), pp. 107–134. Available at: http://dx.doi.org/10.1080/02650487.2014.996116.

47)   Shaak, E. (2022a) “Class Action: Wool Shoe Manufacturer Allbirds Misled Consumers with Sustainability, Animal Welfare Claims,” ClassAction.Org. Available at: https://www.classaction.org/blog/class-action-wool-shoe-manufacturer-allbirds-misled-consumers-with-sustainability-animal-welfare-claims (Accessed: September 3, 2025).

48)   Shendruk, A. (2022) “USA: H&M faces ‘greenwashing’ class-action lawsuit over alleged misleading & false marketing of ‘sustainable’ clothing line,” Business & Human Rights Resource Centre. Available at: https://www.business-humanrights.org/en/latest-news/usa-hm-faces-greenwashing-class-action-lawsuit-over-alleged-misleading-false-marketing-of-sustainable-clothing-line/ (Accessed: September 3, 2025).

49)   Trunk, U., Harding-Rolls, G., Banegas, X., Urbancic, N. and Nguyen, A. (2023) “Synthetics Anonymous Fashion Brands’ addiction to fossil fuels,” Changing Markets. Available at: https://changingmarkets.org/wp-content/uploads/2021/06/CM-Synthetics-Anonymous-online-format.pdf (Accessed: September 3, 2025).

50)   Ummar, R., Shaheen, K., Bashir, I., Ul Haq, J., & Bonn, M. A. (2023) “Green Social Media Campaigns: Influencing Consumers’ Attitudes and Behaviors,” Sustainability, 15(17), p. 12932.

Author: Saumya Verma 

The post The Law Behind the Label: Enforcing Truth in Eco-Claims in Fashion Marketing appeared first on Fashion Law Journal.