Cashmere? Alpaca? Angora? Nope. Vicuña is the world’s most refined fibre. But what of the ethics of vicuña? We investigate here, below
By Chere Di Boscio
They look a bit like Bambi, only fluffier and cuter. They were revered by the Incas for their soft, golden fleece. But today, only a privileged few have heard of the vicuña.
These small, sweet natured cousins of the alpaca live in the Andean plateaus of South America. They produce a fleece so soft and fine, only Inca royalty could wear it.
Over 500 years ago, nearly three million vicuña roamed the rocky terrains of the Andes – until the arrival of those evil Spanish conquistadors. They needlessly slaughtered most of these gentle animals to obtain what they called “the silk of the new world.”
This is a pretty good illustration of how nasty the conquistadors were. You don’t actually need to kill or even hurt the vicuña to get its fleece. A nice brushing will do!
The Ethics of Sourcing Vicuña
When speaking of the ethics of vicuña, it should be noted that normally, these animals are worth more alive than dead. So their fur is only sold when the animal has died naturally. It’s one of the only furs I would say we could call ‘ethical’.
Even softer than cashmere, vicuña remained a popular luxury fabric for several hundred years. But by the 1960’s, vicuña were down to fewer than 5,000 roaming the Andes. The government of Peru made several conservation efforts to save the animals. But many locals still hunted them for food and fur.
Eventually, nature reserves were established for their preservation, and slowly vicuña became less available to luxury consumers. Their numbers could have grown naturally in such protected circumstances. But one Italian family saw money in breeding these soft, sweet beasties.
The Italian Connection
Sergio and Pier Luigi Loro Piana, the co-owners of Loro Piana, one of the world’s largest producers of cashmere, became the biggest suppliers of vicuña, too. The Loro Piana family began investing in nature reserves and preservation initiatives, but not out of concern for the animals. Rather, they wanted restrictions removed on the commercial use of the vicuña.
Eventually, their lobbying efforts paid off. The Peruvian government relaxed its restrictions and chose LVMH-owned Loro Piana as its exclusive partner in the procurement, processing and export of sheared vicuña.
Loro Piana now has control over most of the world’s vicuña fibre market. It owns the 2,000-hectare Dr. Franco Loro Piana Reserva in Peru. They also purchased a majority share in an Argentinian firm in 2013, which allows them to capture and shear wild vicuña in that country.
Until three years ago, the company was a supplier of vicuña yarn to other designers and brands, but they recently put an end to that practice so that they could fully dominate the market.
However, other brands, including Ermenegildo Zegna, Kering-owned Brioni and Savile Row’s Holland & Sherry source the fibres for themselves independently from Bolivia, Peru, Argentina and Chile.
Image below: Loro Piana vicuña polo
Vicuña: The World’s Most Expensive Fibre
Today, per kilo, vicuña costs between $400 to $600, compared to $75 to $85 for cashmere and a mere $5 or $6 for wool. For this reason, it’s regarded as the most refined and luxurious of all fibres. Because it’s so expensive, it’s often blended with other threads. To find an item that’s 100% vicuña is very rare and lush indeed.
One Loro Piana vicuña sweater costs a whopping $4,495, compared $995 for a cashmere V-neck. You can imagine how much coats and capes cost. The insanely high price doesn’t even put off luxury shoppers. In fact, it makes demand even higher, by some accounts, as discerning fashionistas recognise that it’s one of the finest textiles on earth.
But do those extraordinary prices trickle down to the Peruvian breeders?
Who Wins The Most?
When critiqued for poor ethics of vicuña sourcing, the Loro Piana owners claim they’ve done plenty. They say they’ve kept the animals from the brink of extinction by convincing breeders that maintaining them alive is worth the effort. And in fact, it was the fashion brands themselves, such as Loro Piana and Kuna that stopped local breeders from killing the animals for their fur and meat. Indeed, though it was forbidden to kill them under the Incan empire, until recently, it was common practice to trap vicunas in holes. The injured animals would then be slaughtered and skinned. They also state that breeding vicuña helps conserve land, as 10 hectares are needed of grassland are needed for each animal. And that’s true.
But according to Meg Lukens Noonan, author of “The Coat Route: On the Trail of the $50,000 Coat,” that’s not enough.
She has witnessed first-hand the traditional and gentle “chakku” shearing process, which is inspired by Inca tradition. And she recognises Loro Piana’s role in boosting vicuña populations in the wild. But the author is dubious about the ethics of the trade agreements they have in place with local villagers.
“(The) villagers have not made a lot of money from this, especially when you look at the disparity (between what they earn and) what the finished products are worth,” she said.
Noonan concludes that while she believes Loro Piana has helped keep the vicuña alive, she is less sure that they have had a positive influence on the local populations. But she’s a bit wrong on that count.
Government Chaos
What Noonan may not know is this. The price of vicuna fur is dropping, as more players saturate the market. Loro Piana was one of the few brands that guaranteed producers a stable price had also been their main buyer. But that ended in 2023.
Now, producers are receiving less than ever for their fibres. That’s mainly thanks to political instability in Peru that shut down all industries for several months and scared off foreign investment. Apparently, the plan is to have a national clothing industry that sells vicuna fashion. However, basic folkloric Peruvian styles can’t compete with refined Italian design in foreign markets.
Vicuna production and the sale of vicuna fibres is heavily controlled by the Peruvian government. Their role is also to control the price of the fibres and to help stop poaching. Any community, person or company that owns vicuña habitat must register a management plan with SERFOR, Peru’s National Forest and Wildlife Service. The plans include specific ways that vicuña will be protected from poaching, as well as how their habitat will be conserved and, if possible, improved.
Ostensibly, this is a great plan. Vicunas need sources of fresh water and lots of land to graze on daily. So this should motivate locals to conserve land for grazing. However, many have found it easier to sell their land for quick cash. Indeed, one of the biggest threats today is urban sprawl and the government’s inability to control it.
Another threat is poaching. This is flooding the market with cheaper, illegal vicuna fur. And the Peruvian government is too chaotic and corrupt to stop it. In 2023, 600 of the 161,000 vicunas in the Peruvian Andes were poached.
The Poaching Problem
The poachers are local people. They kill the vicuna, strip off the skin, leave the carcasses and sell the fibres on the black market in Peru or in nearby Bolivia. The justice system in Peru doesn’t really deter poachers. Although law calls for jail sentences of up to 10 years, poachers rarely serve any time. When someone is caught or someone is charged, they are released from the police stations either through bribes or outside influence.
It has been suggested that in order to stop the poaching, locals need better arms. They also need binoculars in order to identify the poachers, and good vehicles to go after them. But the government claims they don’t have resources to give these to the herders.
A better solution is for large brands like Loro Piana to control vicuna populations. They have the resources to stop poachers. And while some may complain about the discrepancy between what is paid to local farmers and the European brands, the truth is that when the European brands move out of the vicuna markets, the herders receive even less cash, land is sold for housing, poaching increases, and the black market is flooded with cheap threads from slaughtered animals.
The reality is that this model works.
For example? Loro Piana opened a private nature reserve in Peru in 2008. Thanks to this, vicuña there are now a protected species whose population has more than doubled between 1998 and today. The land will never be sold for housing or farming.
In 2013 Loro Piana continued its work by venturing into Argentina. The company acquired shearing rights for vicuña living in an 850 square kilometer area (85,000 hectares), where it is responsible for developing the current population of wild vicuña. Poaching in these areas is virtually unheard of.
The Ethics of Vicuña: Conclusions
It’s naive to complain that the main issues with the ethics of vicuña should focus on the gap between what herders are paid and what brand charge for garments. When the herders are left to their own devices in an unregulated or virtually lawless environment, poaching and chaos ensues. Well-meaning ‘ethical fashionistas’ pointing out how little farmers are paid compared to brands are ignorant to the facts.
The truth is, the best thing that ever happened to the vicuña market in Peru was national and foreign investment. And the proof of that is clearly when these interests are withdrawn. If we want to stop urban sprawl into vicuna habitats, the diminishing of prices for vicuna fibres, and vicuna poaching, we’d be wise to encourage large brands like Loro Piana back into controlling these animals and the markets for their fur.
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