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Just a couple of moments prior to the fashion giant unveiled a temporary store in Dijon this summer, spray-painted messages were discovered on the outside wall stating, “Shein harms” and “worker abuse, modern slavery, environmental damage.”

Yet, the fierce opposition surrounding its pop-up locations across the country in recent years—such as in Toulouse, Montpellier and Marseille—has not deterred the Chinese-founded quick-turnaround fashion brand from choosing the nation for its first permanent physical stores.

This week, the brand revealed an initiative to open shops in a prominent department store locations in multiple urban centers and additionally in the BHV store in Paris.

“In front of the Paris City Hall, plans are underway for the large-scale Shein outlet, which – after destroying dozens of local labels – seeks to inundate the French market on a larger scale with short-lived goods,” stated a fashion industry representative, head of the apparel trade group Fédération Française du Prêt à Porter Féminin.

An author and fashion journalist, says: “The ultra-fast model is the extreme of wastefulness. It is built with short-lived trends, with aggressive marketing.”

But, she continues, the French aversion to the business model runs much deeper: “It differs from French culture’s tradition of keeping objects, of savoir-faire – the brand carries a stigma that is ethical in nature.”

Yet despite this vocal criticism, with a Change.org petition to ban Shein in the country surpassing a quarter-million supporters, France has not remained untouched to the company’s steady growth over the past five years.

Its model, based on shipping orders of cheap clothes straight from manufacturers in China to customers, reportedly brought in $1bn net profit the previous year, making it not simply a symbol of “hyper-fast clothing”, but among its most profitable firms. That is despite concerns regarding ecological harm and working practices, including allegations of forced labour that the brand disputes and cases of child labour that led to partnerships being ended.

Its success rests with the astonishing speed and volume of its production designs, with thousands of new items added on the platform every day. “It marks an entirely new way of consuming – the scale is exponentially larger,” observes the journalist. Between late 2022 and late 2023, the company introduced 1.5 million items to the American market – roughly 37 times more than a competing retailer and 65 times more than H&M, as reported by Reuters.

During the period of the Dijon pop-up opening, the French senate passed legislation designed to restrict ultra-fast fashion, specifically platforms like the brand and its ultra-low cost shopping rival another online retailer. It proposed a range of measures, from environmental levies to a prohibition of marketing, limits to influencer collaborations, required reporting of production practices, and redirection of taxed revenues towards French sustainable producers.

This legislation was applauded by numerous observers as a positive development, but raised eyebrows for differentiating what is termed “classical” fast fashion (established brands among others), and “hyper-fast clothing”. In fact, the first category is subject to more lenient rules. According to some, this distinction appears to render high-street labels seem more responsible in contrast; according to other views, it is seen as a way of weakening Chinese competition.

However The nation boasts a long tradition of rapid apparel production, originating from the a historic district, the capital’s historic garment district in the 2nd and 3rd arrondissements. From the 1970s onward, the quartier, alongside similar commercial zones (including in Marseille), developed a model based on quick production, small quantities, and localized sourcing, frequently restocked on demand instead of seasonal calendars.

This supported the emergence of popular and budget-friendly domestic brands like Naf Naf, Kookaï, and Jennyfer, which thrived through the 1980s and 1990s, both in France and abroad, before outsourcing production and ultimately fading or rebranding. Towards the end of the twentieth century, the Sentier’s system was outpaced by global brands such as major chains, who relocated manufacturing and expanded procurement and inventory – a dynamic portrayed in the French film saga La Vérité si je mens!, which is located in the district.

On a cultural level, the fashion reporter compares the brand’s acceptance to that of the initial arrival of H&M when it arrived on a famous Paris street in 1998: “It was considered vulgar. The fashion elite regarded it as devoid of taste or culture.” Now, she says, “they have been worked into actual labels, fully accepted” while Shein has taken on the outcast status.

Appealing to young shoppers, H&M radically shifted its image with Karl Lagerfeld’s collaboration in the mid-2000s, which sold out within hours. From then on, the French style scene began to accept high-street pieces as a component of the contemporary Parisian wardrobe.

Other fast-fashion megabrands aimed for legitimacy by collaborating closely with prominent fashion figures. Emmanuelle Alt, former editor-in-chief of Vogue Paris, worked with the Spanish brand as a style advisor, while Suzanne Koller, co-founder of a style periodical and current fashion editor at M le Magazine du Monde, has worked repeatedly with the brand, around creative guidance and outfit curation. A fashion figure a well-known model walked in an H&M runway show. and French model Aymeline Valade has appeared in a brand catalog and openly told W magazine that she buys from the store, for basics at least.

A writer and influencer, comments: “Here in Paris, it is now normal to mix affordable brands, secondhand finds, and high-end pieces, each selected with skill. Parisians don’t go to Zara for bold items or counterfeits, but for everyday essentials: shirts, jeans, timeless staples.” Few admit to actually wearing the label in daily life, though. “It’s not discussed,” says Fontanel. “Or one might remark: ‘You won’t believe it, but it’s Zara.’”

One major distinction regarding the new brand is its digital footprint, which represents a cultural shift for more mature shoppers. French-British influencer and writer Camille Charrière, says: “The French still like to shop in stores, with their friends and family, on the weekend. Their style remains consistent to go out on the weekend or at night, they shop more deliberately.”

Some of the attraction of ultra fast fashion stems from its size inclusivity: for numerous shoppers, it is still the only brand that accommodates diverse body types. The plus-size market is largely unavailable in the country, particularly among mid- and high-end labels.

Rapid-turnaround apparel has also introduced new ways of consuming: digital purchases, skipping fittings, and bulk ordering. Clothing items are often worn once, thrown out or resold on secondhand platforms – a significant change in how wardrobes are assembled and maintained.

The influencer emphasizes that there can be a “considered” approach to using fast fashion: “One shouldn’t torture oneself for purchasing fast fashion. I have Zara dresses from five years ago that I still wear. In my view the key factor is to force myself to wear my purchases … to commit to wearing it.” {While that doesn