Copenhagen FW: How a Nordic Fashion Scandal Shook Industry Trust and Regulation

The greenwashing scandal around Copenhagen Fashion Week struck at the heart of consumer trust. CPHFW had built symbolic capital on its sustainability claims, describing itself as an “agenda-setting platform” and basking in the praise of outlets such as British Vogue. The complaint of March 2025 drilled holes in this narrative, arguing that the event’s sustainability framework was less an assurance of genuine impact than a marketing device enabling brands to bask in unearned prestige.

At a brand level, the allegations revealed how fragile credibility can be once it comes under the lens. Baum und Pferdgarten, for instance, admitted to “falling short” on its pledge to eliminate virgin polyester—an acknowledgement that its sustainability rhetoric was running ahead of its material practice. Berner Kühl conceded that its messaging “could have been clearer,” while Stine Goya was accused of promoting a “fossil-free world” vision despite producing plastic-heavy collections. These admissions and accusations underscored how easily sustainability narratives can crumble like the proverbial cookie.

For consumers, such gaps erode trust not only in individual brands but in the industry’s broader claims. A study cited in coverage highlighted how greenwashing diminishes brand equity, suggesting that overstatement in the pursuit of prestige can ultimately undermine value. In Copenhagen’s case, the danger was magnified by the event’s global reputation. By presenting participants as “sustainable fashion brands,” the event lent credibility to labels whose practices did not match their rhetoric. The result was the reputational halo that risked deceiving audiences far beyond Denmark.

Trust has also been dented within the industry itself. Smaller and emerging labels complained that the framework favoured larger players with the resources to produce polished documentation, leaving them at risk of exclusion Aalborg University. Meanwhile, established brands such as Ganni expressed concern that raising standards without offering support could drive designers away. Creative director Ditte Reffstrup summed up the unease: “We welcome the challenge, but the industry needs to support brands in making real change, not just set impossible standards.”

On social media, the dissonance played out in real time. Hashtags like #CopenhagenFashionWeek2025 attracted hundreds of millions of views on TikTok, amplifying the glamour of the runways. But alongside influencers and celebrities showcasing street style, activist threads accused the event of offering little more than “sustainable” aesthetics. This dual narrative—glossy visibility versus activist scepticism—illustrated the paradox of trust in contemporary fashion: highly visual platforms can both elevate and corrode credibility in equal measure.

In the aftermath of the Ombudsman’s verdict, CPHFW obviously avoided heavy penalties, but its symbolic authority stands shaken. For an event that had built its brand on trust, the greenwashing controversy shows just how precarious that commodity has become in fashion’s sustainability race.

If the Copenhagen Fashion Week case underscored anything, it was the gradually shifting regulatory ground from beneath the fashion industry. Till now, greenwashing has flourished in the gaps created by loosely enforced rules, with brands free to describe themselves as “eco-friendly” or “responsible” without rigorous substantiation, and/or verification. The complaint against CPHFW arrived just as Europe began closing those gaps with new legislation, and the Danish Consumer Ombudsman’s ruling made clear that the margin for vague claims was narrowing fast.

Of course. the Ombudsman dismissed the case over the lack of sufficient grounds to proceed to court. Yet the regulator pointedly advised CPHFW to be more cautious in its language, particularly its practice of describing participants as “sustainable fashion brands.” This nuance mattered in the context: it has allowed event organisers to claim relief but also placed them under closer watch, highlighting that even procedural dismissal could come with reputational penalties.

In the European context, the legal context was already tightening. The Green Claims Directive, adopted in 2024 and due for full enforcement by 2027, bans vague environmental labelling without third-party verification. Companies will be required to back up claims with recognised scientific evidence, such as life-cycle assessments, and risk fines of up to 4% of annual turnover if found in violation. The directive expressly targets the kind of rootless terminology that critics said plagued CPHFW, from “eco-friendly” textiles to “climate neutral” collections.

Other reforms too are looming large in the background. The EU’s Corporate Sustainability Due Diligence rules, anti-deforestation requirements, and waste management directives are pushing fashion towards transparency and accountability. In Denmark, amendments to the Marketing Practices Act already define what counts as misleading environmental language, making future cases more straightforward to prosecute. Taken together, these measures signal that voluntary frameworks, however ambitious, may no longer be adequate shields against legal scrutiny.

The CPHFW case incident has also exposed how regulators are beginning to treat cultural events with the same seriousness as consumer-facing brands. Fashion weeks, long considered marketing platforms rather than distinct corporate entities, now risk legal liability—rightly so—for the narratives they willy-nilly propagate. By stepping into the role of arbiter, Copenhagen had effectively blurred the line between the platform and the certifier. Now, the Ombudsman’s intervention shows that such positioning carries legal consequences, even if not immediately litigated.

For the fashion industry—at least in the EU area for now—the implication is stark. The days when aspirational rhetoric could pass muster without exhaustive documentation are numbered. CPHFW’s procedural escape this time out may prove short-lived once EU-wide enforcement takes hold. The case has served as a warning shot: the language of sustainability is no longer just branding, but a legal claim subject to penalties, scrutiny, and, increasingly, the courts.

The Copenhagen Fashion Week controversy has reverberated well beyond Denmark’s borders. For years, the event had been presented as a model for others, with its 19 requirements inspiring sustainability frameworks in London, Berlin, Oslo and Amsterdam. The greenwashing allegations cast doubt on this export of standards, raising the risk that flawed practices were being replicated across Europe. As one noted, Copenhagen had been credited with reshaping fashion weeks globally, but the scandal forced observers to ask whether it was exporting solutions or problems.

In London, the British Fashion Council committed to making CPHFW-inspired rules mandatory for all Newgen designers by 2026. Critics now warn that this adoption could import Copenhagen’s weaknesses, particularly its reliance on self-reporting and lack of third-party audits. If brands in Denmark could gain prestige while overstating sustainability, the same loopholes may emerge in London and elsewhere. The controversy has shifted from a purely Nordic dispute to a European policy issue, with systemic consequences for the credibility of fashion’s sustainability promises.

The reputational fallout also played out in the global talent market. Copenhagen has long been celebrated as an incubator for designers like Ganni and Cecilie Bahnsen. Yet as the allegations dragged on, concerns grew that rising labels might migrate to Paris or Milan, where prestige remains unchallenged by greenwashing scandals. There were reported fears of a “talent exodus,” suggesting that systemic flaws could erode Copenhagen’s ability to retain or attract marquee names.

Nevertheless, there’s a paradox that should not miss one’s eyes. All this while, CPHFW had carefully marketed itself as a business-to-business platform, insisting that its standards were merely entry criteria rather than certifications. In practice things were different: the event’s public-facing claims and its amplification by a pliable and gullible media created powerful consumer impressions. By hailing participants as “sustainable fashion brands,” Copenhagen influenced shoppers, influencers, and international markets. This contradiction between B2B positioning and consumer impact became a central lesson for other fashion weeks considering similar frameworks.

The bottomline is this: the wider industry now faces heightened vigilance. Activists and consumer groups have made clear that Copenhagen’s experience will not remain isolated. Similar complaints could be filed against fashion weeks in Berlin, London, or Paris, particularly as EU laws tighten. The ripple effects will be legal, reputational, and cultural: a reminder that in an interconnected industry, the collapse of credibility in one hub can have a cascading effect. Copenhagen’s saga therefore stands not only as a Nordic cautionary tale but as a warning for the entire global fashion calendar.

The fallout from Copenhagen Fashion Week’s greenwashing controversy complicated an already existing dilemma that now confronts the entire industry with vengeance: how to reconcile the symbolic power of sustainability rhetoric with the need for systemic transformation. Fashion weeks are inherently spectacles, reliant on media buzz, celebrity presence and sponsor funding. Yet those same imperatives now invariably clash with the unglamorous work of reducing overproduction, curbing waste, and reforming labour practices. The CPHFW case made clear that without structural change, sustainability will just be another runway show.

A key criticism has been the “aestheticization” of sustainability. CPHFW championed recycled materials, green-themed set designs, and polished sustainability narratives, which delivered strong visuals and never-ending media mileage but did little to tackle deeper systemic problems. As Aalborg University’s research noted, the framework often rewarded presentation over substance, allowing brands with glossy communications to pass screening even when their practices fell short. This reliance on symbolic capital fuelled scepticism that the event was substituting imagery for impact.

There are other issues too that few want to talk about: money matters. The financial structure of fashion weeks complicates things. CPHFW is funded largely through corporate partnerships, with estimates suggesting sponsorship accounts for around 85 per cent of its operating budget. This dependency incentivises organisers to prioritise sponsor visibility over strict enforcement, enabling “green halo” branding without substantive change. When the very entities underwriting the shows also seek reputational gains from sustainability, conflicts of interest inevitably arise.

The industry also confronts a tension between accessibility and credibility. If standards are too lax, events risk becoming hollow, serving as stages for reputational boosts rather than genuine reform. But if requirements are too stringent, smaller and emerging brands may be excluded, reinforcing the dominance of large players with resources to navigate compliance. This tension—between accessibility and credibility—remains unresolved.

Finally, the regulatory trajectory suggests that voluntary frameworks alone will no longer suffice. With the EU Green Claims Directive and related rules coming into force by 2027, brands and organisers face legal obligations for accuracy, evidence, and third-party verification. The Copenhagen case shows that regulators are willing to scrutinise not just corporations but the cultural platforms that promote them. The industry’s dilemma, then, is not whether sustainability matters—it clearly does—but how to make its claims measurable, verifiable, and resistant to charges of performance.

So, CPHFW’s crisis is both cautionary and catalytic. It illustrates how quickly reputational capital can erode when sustainability is treated as image rather than substance, and it signals that fashion weeks everywhere must now grapple with the reality that glossy optics are no longer enough.