As the holiday season approaches, shoppers are scrambling to fill their carts, both in-store and online, in search of those last-minute gifts. Among the popular choices is the irresistibly cheap clothing offered by Shein, which has become a go-to for many, especially for those aiming to make a splash at festive sweater parties. Like countless others worldwide, the French are on the hunt for bargains this December.
In a recent interview with journalist Thomas Mahler, I discovered that fast fashion has ignited a fierce political debate in France—a nation renowned for its haute couture. Lawmakers are contemplating measures that could jeopardize the economic standing of Shein, the Chinese juggernaut that leads the charge in ultra-affordable apparel globally.
Millions of French consumers are regular shoppers on Shein. Mahler posed an intriguing question: Can politicians motivate consumers to opt for domestically produced clothing in a nation steeped in fashion heritage? My response was that this issue is not confined to France alone. Wealthy nations generally lack a robust domestic apparel manufacturing sector; it’s simply more cost-effective to produce clothing in lower-income countries, and few residents of affluent nations dream of working in garment factories.
The French government’s proposed intervention takes the form of an “eco-penalty” on fast-fashion items, potentially adding a tax of €10 per garment. The aim? To make French-made clothing more competitive while simultaneously curbing the environmental impact of disposable fashion.
Fast fashion contributes significantly to waste. The rapid trend cycles of inexpensive clothing last mere weeks instead of months. Shein inundates the market with new items daily, while traditional French fashion houses unveil only a handful of designs each year. Much of this clothing is so poorly made that it’s discarded after just a few wears. Charities often struggle to accept donations due to the overwhelming influx of unwanted garments. Discarded polyester shirts either clutter landfills or, worse, pollute rivers and beaches. These synthetic fibers release microplastics into the environment—genuine externalities that cannot be overlooked.
France’s strategy intertwines modern environmentalism with a time-honored protectionist approach. Framing a tariff as a means to combat “wasteful” consumption may prove more politically palatable than simply advocating for the protection of domestic producers.
Consumer behavior, often revealing preferences, indicates a desire for affordability and variety. This creates a conflict with protectionist policymakers. When a Shein dress is priced at €15 while its French counterpart costs €100, even the most patriotic of consumers find themselves in a difficult position. The price disparity reflects not only labor costs but also supply chain efficiencies, economies of scale, and fundamentally different business models.
Even if these measures successfully curtail purchases from Shein, would the French populace be eager to embrace garment manufacturing jobs that are “returned” to France? With youth unemployment exceeding 17%, the reality is that garment work does not align with the aspirations of an educated workforce. In the U.S., most remaining apparel factories primarily employ recent immigrants. Is attempting to revive a mid-20th-century industrial sector akin to trying to bring typewriters back to life? Nostalgia is not an effective economic strategy in our rapidly advancing technological landscape. Moreover, with the rise of automation, would robots soon take over most jobs currently performed by people in garment manufacturing?
Mahler further inquired whether individuals could simply purchase fewer clothes to mitigate environmental harm. This is a compelling question, reflecting a broader issue seen with food consumption in affluent societies. Once, calories were scarce; today, the primary limitation appears to be waistlines, not income. Clothing has followed a similar trajectory. Following the end of the Multi-Fiber Arrangement in 2005, global textile trade surged. For instance, one Chinese city now produces over 20 billion pairs of socks annually, which can be exported at low prices. For many consumers, the price of clothing is not the primary constraint on their purchasing habits, leading to a democratization of style and abundance.
Reasonable discourse can emerge around the most appropriate policy response. A Pigouvian tax on new garments to finance recycling initiatives or diminish waste could be a viable consideration—similar to a carbon tax. Enhanced labeling, such as durability ratings, could empower consumers to make more informed choices regarding garment longevity, thereby allowing them to weigh price against quality effectively. Shifting cultural norms also suggest that some consumers now take pride in their thrift-store finds rather than new acquisitions, which may help reduce the flow of new clothing into landfills.
In addressing the pitfalls of cheap fashion, we ought to resist the temptation to romanticize the past. We should not revert to a time when only the affluent could enjoy variety and comfort. Nations like Bangladesh and Vietnam have lifted many out of poverty by integrating into global garment supply chains. For example, Bangladesh’s GDP per capita has risen from under $500 in 1998 to over $2,500 today.
Fast fashion is neither an unmitigated triumph nor a disaster. It represents a solution to a pressing challenge: how to provide affordable clothing for billions. Today, the French, along with many others globally, are grappling with a more nuanced question: once basic scarcity is overcome, how much is truly enough?
A time traveler from 1850, clad in a single patched coat, would be astonished to learn that we are now debating whether people acquire too many clothes. The very fact that we can engage in such discussions is a testament to the extraordinary achievements of our economic system, despite its inherent flaws.
