TikTok. Instagram. Pinterest. These social media networks began as a means of interconnecting the world, through which one could easily have a conversation with someone from another continent within a few clicks. Over time, this phenomenon of globalisation has evolved, transforming social media into a projection of the Bible for many. Even the most basic daily choices – what time to wake up, which meals to eat, what clothes to wear – are all heavily influenced by the appearances and images marketed online as the ‘ideal lifestyle’ the average person aspires to. A key part of this image of the ‘perfect human’ relies on material indicators of wealth, accessible to those in economically developed countries but remaining a mirage for others in still-emerging economies.
Wealth, success, and social status are constructed through an online ideal of the modern Vitruvian man enhanced by a Hermès Birkin bag, Louboutin red-sole shoes, or a glistening Rolex watch. What of those who pursue the same image with limited means? Are they to be left out of the collective rush to success? Worry not, a fast-track route exists: the world of counterfeit goods – the same luxury items your favourite influencer flaunts on your phone screen but at a fraction of the price (and with a few minor imperfections, but who will see those). The $1 million Birkin bag you were saving up for since the beginning of your career? You can now purchase it for a mere $110. What was then unattainable is now just a shopping mall away.
Africa is arguably one of the most affected victims of the rush to material success, breeding a flourishing culture of luxury counterfeiting in most of its countries. There is a concentration of demand for luxury goods that remains inevitably unmet due to limited accessibility and a flagrant lack of resources. What better way to keep up with online perceptions and social media? Luxury ‘at a budget’ becomes the normalised response.
The ‘Takealot Tirkin’ and the threat to luxury brands
Consider, for instance, the case of the “Takealot Tirkin”, reported in The South African by Megan van den Heever. The Tirkin is a blatant imitation of the Hermès Birkin bag marketed at a tenth of the luxury price by the South African e-commerce platform Takealot.
The Tirkin had it all – the materials, the designs, the belted flap, and even the iconic “lock, key and clochette” trio. In appearance, the Tirkin was a Birkin, but simply without the glory of the Hermès branding.
The Tirkin owes its success to its convenient accessibility, making it a strong alternative to the rare and exclusive Birkins notorious for their lengthy waiting lists and the seemingly endless years of patience required before finally owning one. It is precisely this impression of product scarcity that transformed these bags into a symbol of ultimate wealth.
Thanks to the Tirkin, South Africans benefited from an accelerated journey to Birkin ownership. The mirage they were chasing was finally tangible, and without the long waiting times. So why work tirelessly to afford a Birkin in a few years, when you can have an easy-going Tirkin right now? As the expression goes, fake it until you make it.
Then, might you ask, what happens to the original Birkins? Do they no longer hold the same value? This is where protecting and enforcing intellectual property (IP) rights becomes crucial. With the case of the Takealot Tirkin, the Hermès Birkin is threatened by obsolescence in most of Africa due to its homemade reputation for scarcity and inaccessibility, just like a snake being killed by its own venom.
Indeed, the counterfeit market poses a significant threat to luxury brands. Obsolescence is only one of the multitude of issues on the horizon for such brands. Nearing the line of sight is also the possibility of brand identity erosion. This is a direct consequence of facilitated access to counterfeit luxury, a stark contradiction to the delicately crafted exclusivity and prestige built over decades. In such rapidly expanding markets with exponential demand for counterfeit goods, protecting one’s brand is no longer an option. It is a question of survival.
However, the situation is still at a salvageable point. With the recent rise in popularity of counterfeit goods such as the Tirkin, African authorities have had no option but to devise mechanisms to protect owners of IP rights against the counterfeit world.
Turning the tide: how Mauritius is tackling luxury counterfeits
Mauritius has been a long-standing member of the counterfeit victims’ club. All it takes is a visit to the nearest street market and the options unfurling before you are abundant – Gucci, Louis Vuitton, Dior, and a panoply of other luxury branded items of doubtful origin. Thankfully, the Customs Unit of the Mauritius Revenue Authority (MRA) has recently increased its activity surrounding IP enforcement, offering trademark owners the possibility of registering their rights before customs. Close collaboration with the authority, paired with trademark infringement procedures before the Industrial Property Office of Mauritius (IPOM) provide a dynamic duo for rights holders to signal and halt any fraudulent activity.
At the foundation of protecting goods from being counterfeited lies trademark protection. The trademark undergoes the typical application and registration procedures before the IPOM. Once the trademark registration certificate is obtained, it is time to head to the Customs Unit of the MRA, where the trademark registration is recorded. From this point, all imports of products bearing the recorded trademark will be reviewed upon arrival.
In cases where the importer is not the owner of the trademark, the Customs Unit notifies the real owner and confiscates the potentially fraudulent goods for inspection. The trademark owner then indicates the manner in which they wish for the suspected goods to be handled by the MRA. Negotiations may be entered into with the importer at the discretion of the trademark owner. The latter may also opt to directly initiate judicial proceedings before the Mauritian courts.
To protect or not to protect, that is the question
Therefore, a solution exists to the counterfeit issue. However, this could give way to an important dilemma. Given that luxury brands have opted not to commercialise their products in Africa, to what extent will the enforcement of IP rights be sustainable in markets that are only familiar to proximal counterfeits?
Ultimately, the possibilities are endless. The choice rests in the hands of luxury brands. In the face of their potential demise, the question is: to protect or not to protect?
