The Ethics Of Vicuña, The World’s Most Costly Fabric

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

The Ethics Of 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

The Ethics Of Vicuña

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

loro piana vicuna

Today, per kilo, vicuña costs between $399 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 those who deserve a share the most – that is, the Peruvian breeders?

Who Wins The Most?

The Ethics Of Vicuña

When critiqued for poor ethics of vicuña sourcing, the Loro Piana owners claim they’ve done plenty. They say they’ve kept the animals alive by convincing breeders that maintaining them is worth the effort. They also state that breeding vicuña helps conserve land, as 10 hectares are needed of grassland are needed for each animal.

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.

Better Than Gold?

But what Noonan may not know is this. While some aspects of the ethics of vicuña could be considered dodgy, the ethics of gold mining are way, way worse. And in some cases, communities need to choose between the two.

For example, an indigenous community in the Andean region of Pumahuanca was being pressured by a small gold mining company to allow them to mine the forests there, high above Urubamba. The leader of the community was well aware of the environmental dangers of doing so. But he was also cognisant of the fact that his community needed money. And he knew the value of vicuña fur. So he decided to raise the animals instead.

The result? His region was saved from the ecological disasters associated with gold mining, and his community is pleased to have an extra income stream. Additionally, there is more reason now than ever for the villagers to retain their land instead of selling it to property developers, who are now crowding the region. It seems to be a win-win.

The Ethics of Vicuña: Conclusions

There are some good points about the ethics of raising vicuña. For example, the animals are protected all throughout Peru. It’s not easy to obtain them; you need special permits. And locals cannot simply show up with a bunch of vicuña fibres for sale. Given the high value of this fur, you also need special permits to shear the animals and sell it.

However, we hope that vicuña breeding doesn’t become the new ‘sweatshop.’ That is to say, a job the most disenfranchised accept for a few dollars a day, whilst the clothing manufacturers they work for get incredibly rich from their labour.

But sadly, it seems that may already be the case. It’s time for local Peruvians to stand up and demand more money from the likes of the Kering group and Loro Piana.

Chere Di Boscio
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