The account @bagbestie1 (now operating as @senbags2) flooded TikTok with videos from an anonymous factory. It claims to have been sewing bags for "all the famous houses" for thirty years and can produce legendary handbags for less than $1,400. Entrepreneur Luna quickly followed suit with a profile called @lunasourcingchina and the punchy headline "Name one thing China CANNOT make." Both speak to an American audience, calculate material costs, show piles of semi-finished products, and lure viewers with "factory prices."

Luxury brands are not commenting on the noisy spectacle, but the backdrop of their European workshops speaks for itself: hand-dyed calfskin in Avola, cut edges in Scandicci, bag makers who spend three hours on a single ear of a handbag. This know-how is not evident on TikTok, which is precisely why it is missing from the videos.

Luxury, hype, or a fictional marketing novel?

None of the viral creators present direct evidence of collaboration with specific brands, but they film in real factories and show high-quality semi-finished products. It should be added that some subcontracted parts from China do indeed go to European manufacturers, where the handbags are assembled and given their final designation of origin. However, iconic models are still finished in France or Italy, and their supply chains are relatively well mapped. The videos thus balance between a grain of truth and an enticing illusion. The creators lure viewers with "the same quality without the logo," when in reality these are fake versions, not legal surplus from official production.

Patriotism and teleshopping in the era of customs barriers

The timing of the campaign is no coincidence. While Washington is raising tariffs on Chinese imports and Beijing has threatened to restrict exports of rare metals, an offensive is underway on TikTok to remind people that the global market cannot do without Chinese factories. The videos are mainly aimed at an American audience, promising "factory prices" and providing WhatsApp contacts for direct purchases. Guerrilla marketing thus weaves two threads together. It strengthens national pride in Chinese craftsmanship while capitalizing on the West's desire for cheaper luxury goods in times of inflation.

Marketing disguised as a big reveal

Behind the bombastic "evidence" lies a simple business model. Chinese suppliers know full well that part of the audience craves luxury icons but is hesitant because of the price and moral dilemma. The answer is a narrative that the originals are "from China anyway," so it's actually okay to buy a copy. In practice, it's a clever strategy: claim that a fake = an authentic product without a logo, thereby morally justifying the purchase of an imitation. But the facts tell a different story.

Flagship models from Hermès, Louis Vuitton, and Chanel are assembled in certified workshops in France and Italy under the draconian control of the supply chain. Subcontracting from Asia tends to involve components or alternative lines, not iconic pieces. Where a luxury house relies on a Chinese specialist, it has signed confidentiality agreements—and would certainly not allow surplus material to reach the black market.

Copy vs. original: the gap that video cannot show

Several items disappear from the tempting calculation of "Birkin for a thousand." More than a century of design continuity, warranty and restoration services, European labor standards, and rigorous durability tests.

Every hand-stitched seam and every line of the die is reflected in the price – and in a value that will last for decades of auctions. A copy may look almost identical online, but after a few years (and sometimes after just one season), the difference will show in the leather, the seams, and the hardware. At the same time, counterfeits will never pass through an official repair spa center and may be confiscated at customs. The moral peace of mind that Chinese marketing videos attempt to imbue cheap purchases with can easily turn into legal and financial risk in practice.

What will happen next?

It is likely that large conglomerates will hire lawyers and start communicating even more loudly about the origin of their iconic pieces. But even if they manage to dampen the viral wave, the seed of doubt has already fallen on fertile ground. Viewers and potential customers now want to know where their luxury really comes from and how much of it is marketing legend. And it is precisely this question that could transform the fashion industry in the coming seasons more than any trend on the catwalk.

Why Western luxury is emerging stronger from the whole affair

Paradoxically, the viral campaign reminded the world that Western brands do not win thanks to cheap production, but precisely because of what no counterfeiter can replace. Tradition, transparent oversight of materials and after-sales service. While TikTok is betting on quick shock value, luxury houses can bet on patient storytelling about origins, certificates of authenticity, and open doors to their factories for journalists and customers alike.

Whatever the outcome of the trade war, the current wave of "revealing" videos has highlighted that exclusivity is not just a "Made in Italy" sticker, but a network of skills and values that cannot be copied on a smartphone. A luxury handbag remains an object of desire, and no discount for a fake on TikTok can beat that.