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Dupes have become a status symbol. But are consumers really winning when they buy them?

‘Dupe culture’ is booming as younger buyers embrace #bougieonabudget tips on social media. How did buying lookalike products become its own trend – and who is paying the price?

Unlike counterfeits, dupes are 'inspired' by the original item and make no claims to be connected to it. Photograph: Agustin Vai

Elaine Maguire O'Connor
Sat Jun 1 2024 - 07:00

An Urban Decay Naked eyeshadow palette costs €57 but Rocio Soria tells me – and her 1.9 million followers on TikTok – that we can purchase an almost identical ‘dupe’ version for just €10 from Joha beauty. According to Soria, there is no discernible difference between the two. If you search the hashtag #bougieonabudget on TikTok, more than 60,000 similar videos will show up, recommending low-cost fashion and beauty duplicates or ‘dupes’ that can be substituted for luxury branded products.

The concept of seeking out lower-cost alternatives is nothing new. In their noughties heyday, women’s fashion magazines regularly featured segments such as ‘skinted or minted’ showcasing a designer original alongside the high-street version inspired by it. Aldi appears to have built a business model on lower-cost versions of everything from biscuits to face creams. “Dupe culture” is booming as younger buyers embrace ways to save money and disseminate their findings across social-media platforms.

This is partly explained by high rates of global inflation which have pushed the price of almost every category of beauty and fashion upwards. A Chanel lipstick now sells for €55 in Brown Thomas. Shampoo is a staggering 30 per cent more expensive than it was in 2016. It’s not difficult to see why consumers are looking for ways to cut back on their spending. Advocates of dupe culture argue that dupes are perfectly legal. Unlike counterfeits – which pass themselves off as the real deal using the originator brand’s trademark to confuse consumers into believing they are purchasing an authorised product – dupes are instead “inspired” by the original item and make no claims to be connected to it. But it’s not always clear where imitation ends and infringement begins, something Aldi discovered in 2019 when it lost its legal battle with make-up brand Charlotte Tilbury over its bargain version of Tilbury’s Filmstar palette.

For generation Z, purchasing dupes – and even actual counterfeits – is not so much an embarrassing fashion faux pas as something approaching a status symbol. Last year, a study conducted by the European Union Intellectual Property Office found that almost 50 per cent of 15- to 24-year-olds in Ireland believe that it is acceptable to buy dupe products if the price of the original is too high, a considerable increase from a similar study conducted in 2019. Social media, it seems, has made it cool.

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The conventional wisdom is that dupes are taking sales from originators in the marketplace, but now industry experts are encouraging brands to embrace the trend, arguing that they must evolve with the changing attitudes of customers. In 2023, Lululemon, the luxury yoga-wear brand which is plagued with copycat versions of its yoga pants, appeared to adopt this strategy when it engaged with the issue by organising an event where customers could swap dupes of their ‘align’ leggings for the real thing for no extra cost. The event attracted customers who had never previously shopped with Lululemon and generated social-media buzz and news headlines.

Olaplex, the bond repair haircare range which appears to have “inspired” multiple other hair products from companies including Aldi and L’Oréal, has also been praised for tapping into the cultural zeitgeist and participating in the dupe discourse. Last year the brand sent more than 700 influencers a product by the name of Oladupé No. 160, encouraging them to post reviews using the hashtag #Oladupe on social media. Following the online campaign, Olaplex revealed that Oladupé was in fact the real thing, disguised as a dupe, because nothing beats the original product.

Legal and PR issues aside, are we, the consumers, really getting a good deal when we purchase dupes? And when an eyeshadow palette costs less than tenner, do we even care?

But while savvy PR and marketing teams appear to approach the issue in a playful manner designed to connect with younger consumers, behind the scenes their legal teams are evidently of another mind. In 2021 Lululemon filed a lawsuit against Peloton accusing it of infringing six design patents by selling five “copycat” bra and legging products, which they subsequently settled.

Similarly, Olaplex was for several years embroiled in a lawsuit against L’Oréal, claiming the global cosmetics giant had misappropriated trade secrets and infringed its patents for the use of maleic acid in bleaching mixtures to repair damage to hair. Online marketplaces Shein and Temu are frequently in the headlines over clothing and jewellery that brands perceive to be breaching their copyright or design rights.

[ Temu: What is it, how do I pronounce it, and why is it so cheap? ]

Legal and PR issues aside, are we, the consumers, really getting a good deal when we purchase dupes? And when an eyeshadow palette costs less than tenner, do we even care? Quality is the most obvious consideration. While technological advances mean packaging and formulas can look similar to the originals, the formulation of cosmetics is almost never as good as the authentic product. Certain ingredients are hard, if not impossible, to replicate on a limited budget. Pigment in lipstick and eyeshadow may not be as deep, scent may not be as potent and moisturisers can contain cheap, harsh emulsifiers that refuse to sink in. And that’s best-case scenario.

Many of the links from social-media sites promoting counterfeits lead to messaging apps and online marketplaces operating out of China, where health and safety measures are not as stringent as in the EU. When this happens, the thin line dividing dupes and counterfeits can lead unknowing customers to risk purchasing cosmetics which have been manufactured in unsanitary conditions and in some cases contain nasty ingredients including lead, arsenic and even animal urine.

The proliferation of ultracheap products on online marketplaces such as Temu raises further ethical concerns. Is it even possible to produce goods costing a tenth of the price of an original without engaging in dubious labour practices? While the knock-off Dyson air wraps or perfume sold at bargain-basement rates may appear to be a good deal, it seems likely that someone, somewhere else, is paying the price.

Elaine Maguire O’Connor is a writer and consultant working in fashion law

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