Loro Piana’s labor scandal raises deeper questions about the cost of animal-based luxury. Are materials like cashmere and vicuña compatible with ethical labor — and what happens when they’re not?
Loro Piana, the revered Italian label loved for its ultra-luxurious cashmere and vicuña, is the latest heritage fashion house placed under judicial oversight in Italy following a sweeping investigation into labor abuses. On Monday, a Milan court ruled that the brand, part of LVMH’s stable, would undergo a year of judicial administration for failing to prevent worker exploitation within its supply chain. The court cited a “culpable failure” to supervise its subcontractors — Chinese-owned factories in Lombardy where workers, many undocumented, were reportedly paid €4 an hour and forced to work up to 90 hours a week. Some even lived in on-site dormitories inside the factories.
The news sent shockwaves, not simply because another iconic brand had been caught in a web of subcontracting and underpaid labor, but because it struck at the very identity of Loro Piana. The label has built its reputation on impossibly soft materials sourced from nature: rare vicuña harvested from Andean wildlife reserves, baby cashmere sheared from Mongolian goats, and fine merino spun into featherlight coats retailing for thousands of euros. But at what human cost?
The scandal prompts a broader, more uncomfortable question: Are animal-derived materials inherently tied to systems of labor exploitation? If a product’s value depends on natural rarity, intricate sourcing, and time-intensive processing — often in remote geographies or via delicate manual labor — then who shoulders the burden of bringing it to market?
Court documents show one of Loro Piana’s intermediaries was producing up to 7,000 jackets annually at just over €120 per piece. The finished garments retail for more than €3,000. The discrepancy points not only to significant markups, but to systemic inequities embedded deep in the value chain, especially when outsourced labor is used to preserve domestic ‘Made in Italy’ prestige. Italy produces more than half of the world’s high-end leather and apparel, according to Bain, but relies on networks of suppliers that often fall outside of brand-led audits. These suppliers, in turn, frequently subcontract to firms with opaque labor practices.
In a statement released Monday evening, Loro Piana acknowledged receipt of the notification received from the Court of Milan’s Preventive Measure Section. The label said the supplier, who was “in breach of its legal and contractual obligations,” did not make Loro Piana aware of the subcontractors responsible for the labor issues. It claims it terminated relations with that supplier in May. The label added, “Loro Piana firmly condemns any illegal practices and reaffirms its unwavering commitment to upholding human rights and compliance with all applicable regulations throughout its supply chain. Loro Piana is committed to ensuring that all its suppliers comply with the maison’s highest quality and ethical standards in line with its Code of Conduct.” The label said it is “constantly reviewing” and will be strengthening its control and audit activities.
The consequences extend beyond judicial administration. The court’s decision comes months after activists raised alarm over the ethics of vicuña sourcing, accusing the label of relying on extractive relationships with Indigenous communities in Peru. Meanwhile, the appointment of Frédéric Arnault as CEO in March signaled LVMH’s commitment to grooming the next generation of leadership, but the timing now seems fraught.
Loro Piana is also not alone. Dior, Valentino, Armani, and Alviero Martini have all faced court-appointed monitors over similar claims. And while brands often tout sustainability initiatives focused on animal welfare — pledging to shear gently, source regeneratively, or farm responsibly — the scrutiny is now shifting to the people who make these garments possible. A rare goat hair sweater that spares the animal but breaks the backs of workers is no longer defensible in a market that increasingly prizes ethical transparency.
If labor abuse taints the perception of luxury, it also forces a reexamination of how prestige is constructed. Animal materials often signal purity, scarcity, and touchable refinement. But the processes used to extract, process, and manufacture them can be grueling, physically and ethically. Whether it’s shearing cashmere in Mongolia or tanning leather in Bangladesh, the labor is frequently invisible to the end consumer.
Animal-based textiles represent 16 percent of the natural fibers sector; the leather sector is expected to reach $405.28 billion by 2030, wool and cashmere will surpass $50 billion. Workers in these supply chains encounter elevated health and safety risks. According to a 2024 study, the annual occupational injury prevalence in textile and garment factories is 27.8 percent. Tannery employees are regularly exposed to hazardous chemicals like chromium and solvents, which can lead to chronic respiratory conditions and dermatological disorders. In wool processing, workers face risks of byssinosis and chronic bronchitis due to high dust exposure, particularly in facilities without adequate ventilation or protective gear. These statistics underscore the hidden toll borne by workers behind the scenes of animal-based luxury.
As vegan fashion has moved from fringe to front row, these revelations are likely to deepen consumer skepticism. Brands like Stella McCartney and Ganni have shown that elevated design need not rely on animal fibers, while start-ups like Mirum and MycoWorks are pushing forward entirely new categories of leather alternatives made from mushrooms or natural materials. Meanwhile, consumers, especially Gen Z, are paying closer attention to how both animals and workers are treated.
And yet, Loro Piana’s garments still sell. The brand has become synonymous with quiet luxury. But what is quiet about a system that silences those at the bottom of the supply chain? If fashion’s next frontier is truly ethical, it must ask harder questions about the materials it venerates. Not only where they come from, but who pays the real price of bringing them to life.
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