"Some say, as long as there's a tag saying 'Made in China', the bag can never be luxury," says Wang Sen in a TikTok video posted under the SenBags moniker, a handbag manufacture in China. "In fact, more than 80 per cent of the luxury bags in the world are made in China. But those luxury brands just won't acknowledge that."
No matter what you make of the video—shot in what looks to be the company's retail space—the claim is certainly a bold one to make. In the same video, Sen goes on to say how these brands will then move fully constructed bags by factories in China to France or Italy so that they can be finished and repackaged with the "Made in France" or "Made in Italy" tags—"you know, those sophisticated European countries," he adds.
Sen doesn't specifically call out the brands, although he does use Hermès as an example in a sort of thought experiment. He asks viewers to imagine only a labelling switch from "Made in France" to "Made in China" for an Hermès bag, prompting them to question if that makes the bag unworthy of a luxury status. (However, as someone who's been afforded the opportunity to visit the official opening of an Hermès leather workshop in Normandy, France in 2023, I can attest that there are actual artisans trained by the Maison who make its bags from start to finish.)
While Sen claims in another video that his account has been suspended and banned multiple times before (I reckon it's to do with TikTok's guidelines against misleading information), his isn't the only account purporting that a lot of fashion that's out there, especially luxury fashion, are done by Chinese workers and artisans. The concept is the same throughout: an English-speaking man or woman seemingly revealing that many of the things that we're paying top dollars for are made by the exact same factories that they're filming in. "Why pay hundreds when you can buy them straight from us, and with similar quality?"
@senbagsofficial My tiktok has been banned again this is my lastest account #luxurybags #tarif #madeinchina #bags #luxurybrand ♬ original sound - Sen Bags New Account
They're retaliatory in nature, of course. The President of the United States, Donald Trump's foolhardy tariff war on Chinese exports into the country—as high as 245 per cent at the time of writing, depending on the type of goods—has spurred Chinese manufacturers to rally on TikTok, making use of the social media platform he "saved" from a nationwide ban, to fight back.
China earned its reputation as the factory of the world; The Business of Fashion reported in a 2021 piece that over 30 per cent of the world's textiles were produced in China. And for decades now, we've been conditioned that Made in China was shorthand for cheap, mass-produced and unoriginal. Fast fashion brands rode on this stigma like a jet ski by churning out polyester tops and plastic shoes that fed on the desire for the new in almost instantaneous fashion and, of course, driving down the mindset that they're disposable because they re cheap. Luxury, on the other hand, kept its hands ostensibly clean. Paying four or five digits for a bag is justifiable because it was Made in France. Made in Italy. Made in England.
Producing for the West and being seen as a cultural equal of even a tastemaker, were entirely different matters. But that narrative is cracking.
China's Gen Z, a cohort that now accounts for over 17 per cent of the country's population, is one of the main drivers for a mindset shift in favour of Made in China. Raised on a heady cocktail of economic growth, digital globalisation, and TikTok (or rather the originator, Douyin), this generation is redefining Chinese identity with confidence and swagger. Instead of emulating Western standards of cool and style, Chinese youths are reclaiming their cultural heritage and remixing it with contemporary style. You see it in the rise of guochao (literally "national wave"), a movement that blends traditional Chinese aesthetics the likes of calligraphy, embroidery, and imperial motifs with streetwear silhouettes and bold branding. Brands like Li-Ning-founded by the respected Olympic gymnast of the same name— have mastered this formula. After presenting more premium collections during its Paris Fashion Week debut in 2018, Li-Ning's clout exploded internationally and attracted international brands the likes of Clarks, Billionaire Boys Club, and Stefano Pilati's Random Identities to collaborate.
Why do we continue to privilege some forms of craftsmanship over others? And in a hyper-connected, hyper-aware world, can a simple tag like "Made in China" ever really mean only one thing?
Angel Chen, one of China's leading fashion designers, has collaborated with H&M and Canada Goose while maintaining a fierce allegiance to Chinese design codes. Her pieces feel like love letters to her heritage, wrapped in avant-garde tailoring and explosive colours. Then there's Xu Zhi by designer Daniel Chen Xu Zhi, whose treasure trove of handcrafted textile techniques and painterly approaches to knitwear have earned comparisons to renowned Western favourites such as Dries Van Noten and Missoni. In a 2018 interview with Metal Magazine, Chen said, "The Chinese roots help me form the very understanding of what beauty is, which is through subtlety, delicate and sophisticated designs rather than extravagance. Until now, nearly two-thirds of my global retailers are from China, and we're proud that Xu Zhi is achieving amazing performances in my home country."
Icicle, a quiet disruptor in the luxury space, was founded in Shanghai in 1997. The brand champions designs using organic fabrics, artisanal techniques, and minimalist silhouettes And when it acquired French label Carven in 2018, the fashion world took notice. Icicle wasn't just entering the Western market—it was acquiring a seat at the table.
But behind the design sensibilities, a quieter transformation was also happening: Chinese manufacturing levelled up. And it's not just about skills it's about scale and sustainability. Chinese factories have embraced automation, ethical labour practices and green energy at a speed that's outpacing their Western counterparts. According to a 2023 Global Organic Textile Standard (GOTS) report. China accounts for 14 per cent of GOTS certified sustainable textile factories-—third overall with the top spot consisting of the entirety of Europe. The irony? Many Western brands are now playing catch-up to the Chinese supply chain they once relied on.
This current tariff war may have been sparked by unhinged political bravado, but its reverberations have unearthed deeper questions: Why do we assign value based on geography? Why do we continue to privilege some forms of craftsmanship over others? And in a hyper-connected, hyper-aware world, can a simple tag like "Made in China" ever really mean only one thing?
For starters, it means luxury can no longer be defined through a purely Western kens. Heritage and craftsmanship are not exclusive to Tuscany or the Left Bank. They exist in silk farms in Sichuan, in tailors' shops in Beijing hutongs, in centuries-old embroidery workshops in Yunnan and more. There are many more forms of craft out there than have been appreciated by luxury fashion houses, and repackaged by them, that it's time we head straight to the source instead.
It also means consumers will have to rewire their biases. Because the next time you flip a care label and see "Made in China", it may not mean bargain bin. It may mean hand sewn, ethically sourced, and covetable enough to be displayed and worshipped. But probably, not by "Wang Sen".
After some digging, Sen may or may not be all he seems. A user on Reddit shared a link to another TikTok account of Sen's where he claims to be one of the biggest electric vehicle exporters in China. While it may be that he's quite the Jack of all trades, it's also likely that the man with smooth English is a paid actor stepping into the role of spokesperson for these businesses, But of course, that's not to say that the TikTok posts resulting from this tariff war have zero merit. For all we know, they could be telling the truth. Or, like the craft that they purport to be expert at, are merely learnt from copying—who can be really sure?
Luxury, it turns out, isn't just about where something is made. It's about who is telling the story—and whether they're actually telling the truth.
