Some Argentines had taken buses from neighboring cities and camped outside overnight. Many others had come to a parking lot in Buenos Aires at dawn and stood in a line, a six-block stretch of baggy eyes and determination.
The people in the queue were not waiting to see a pope, a king or Taylor Swift, but to be some of the first to enter a budget sporting goods store.
Decathlon, a midrange French fitness-gear juggernaut, had just opened its first megastore in Argentina after President Javier Milei’s trade liberalization policies made it easier to import foreign goods.
Many Argentines, whose material aspirations had been choked by decades of prohibitive tariffs, saw the arrival of the sportswear equivalent of IKEA as a marker of their belated access to the global consumption machine.
“It’s a new beginning,” said one customer, Fernanda Pedre, dumping Lycra shirts into a shopping basket. “We are getting closer to the world,” said another, Marcelo Monje.
For most of this century, Argentina adopted sweeping trade barriers to protect its domestic industries. Middle-class Argentines traveling abroad would return with suitcases stuffed with leggings, printer cartridges, jars of pesto and other goods that are easily accessible in much of the industrialized world.
Since taking office two years ago, Mr. Milei, an enthusiastic supporter of free-trade capitalism, has begun to roll back some barriers to commerce, opening the door for shiploads of T-shirts from Shein or Temu, the Chinese fast-fashion online retailers, and more goods from Amazon and lingerie from Victoria’s Secret, which opened its first flagship store in Buenos Aires in November.
Amid the international onslaught, Argentine producers have seen their sales drop and many local businesses have closed, setting off a national debate on the merits of opening up at a time when Mr. Milei’s most powerful backer, President Trump, is doing just the opposite, imposing sweeping tariffs on the United States’ trading partners, including on some Argentine exports.
“The world’s most powerful nation is embracing protectionism, and Argentina is opening up indiscriminately,” said Miguel Ángel Pichetto, a veteran Argentine lawmaker who opposes the trade liberalization. “It doesn’t work.”
Mr. Milei has defended his policies, calling protectionism an unsustainable “scam” and arguing that an open economy will eventually redistribute jobs from noncompetitive industries to more efficient ones.
Argentina’s starting point was one of particular isolation, and expensive imports were a luxury largely reserved for the upper class.
Some trade barriers still remain and Argentines do not enjoy the same low prices at chains as customers in other countries.
The Zara branches in Argentina still have some of the brand’s highest prices in the world. “Premium Outlets” in Buenos Aires sell H&M, Primark and Pull & Bear clothes at much higher prices than in the United States or Europe, and Argentines would pay “personal shoppers” to buy phones or computers abroad.
Federica Bianchi, 24, a schoolteacher, said that during two trips to the United States years ago, she stocked up on a supply of clothing that lasted a few years.
But since Mr. Milei loosened customs red tape, reduced levies and increased the permissible weight and cost of bulk shipments, Ms. Bianchi, like many Argentines, began buying online on Shein.
“We never had this here before,” she said, showing off light flowery dresses, tops and four iPhone covers she ordered on the Chinese platform for only a few dollars.
Before, she said, “It was like, I have to buy it because I need it, and it’s super expensive, but oh, well, I need some jeans.” Now, she said, her reasoning is, “OK, I’ll buy it, I might use it sometime.”
Consumerism, experts say, has always existed within Argentina’s middle class, which is generally well educated with a cultural and historical proximity to Europe. But the new availability of cheaper imports has unleashed it.
“It’s like opening a Disneyland,” said Guillermo Oliveto, an Argentine consumer expert. “They can eat all the candies that they want.”
By October, imports of consumer goods had risen by 62 percent since last year. In the same 10-month period, imports of products including deliveries from e-commerce websites had surged by over 200 percent.
Word of newly available brands and shopping apps spreads on Instagram, on WhatsApp chats and at gym classes. In September, a local importer opened a pop-up Cheesecake Factory store — an American brand — in a trendy mall in Buenos Aires. Argentines lined up for $9 slices of cake.
At the Decathlon opening last month, customers stared at windbreakers as if they were haute couture. Items were still more expensive than in the chain’s European stores, and the gift cards Decathlon workers were handing out to the first customers in line may have, in part, helped explain the crowd outside.
Nevertheless, eager shoppers formed a line at the register that ran the length of the sprawling store. One of the owners, Sabine Mulliez, said sleeping bags and water bottles represented something more meaningful than just gear for camping.
“More than selling clothes,” said Ms. Mulliez, who is part of one of France’s richest families, “we are bringing hope.”
Despite the French retail liberation at Decathlon, it is the Chinese websites, Shein and Temu, which charge no shipping costs for deliveries to the other side of the world, that are some of the biggest beneficiaries of the consumption frenzy. The total value of deliveries of consumer goods from China doubled in the past year.
One night in Buenos Aires, customers feverishly rummaged through plastic bags at the opening of a new store reselling Shein clothes that were part of older collections.
Argentines are ordering more and more Chinese products even as the United States and Argentina enjoy a financial honeymoon. The two countries recently agreed to a framework for a trade deal, and the United States extended a $20 billion financial lifeline to Argentina — partly in an effort to expand American influence in the region and counter China’s presence.
“Everybody is asking for Shein,” said Camila Di Cesare, 33, the owner of the Shein resale store. These brands, she added, “are breaking the market.”
Luciano Galfione, the owner of an Argentine synthetic yarn and fabric manufacturer a few miles away, was among those being broken.
“Shein and Temu beat us hands down,” said Mr. Galfione, as he walked between hundreds of long rolls of fabric wrapped in plastic and stacked on top of one another. “They’re impossible to compete against.”
His 75-year-old family-owned factory, Mr. Galfione said, was working at 20 percent of capacity, down from 80 percent in 2023. He had recently let go a quarter of his work force and said half of those left have barely anything to do.
Mr. Galfione, the president of Pro Tejer, a local nonprofit representing the textile industry, is hardly alone. In the past year, the Argentine textile industry has seen its production fall by nearly 20 percent, while clothes imports surged by 95 percent, leading to the loss of over 12,000 jobs, according to Pro Tejer.
Mr. Pichetto, the lawmaker, is pushing a bill seeking to regulate and tax e-commerce platforms to try to protect domestic industries. With purchases from Chinese retailers surging across the region, other countries, such as Chile and Mexico, have also imposed taxes on the shipments.
Consumers may not be happy to pay more, Mr. Pichetto said, but thousands of domestic companies had closed in the past two years and “the day that there is no more work there is no more consumption.”
While many Argentines say the country needed to open up to allow access to imported goods at reasonable prices, some experts say that the elimination of trade barriers comes at a challenging moment for domestic producers. Taxes and other costs are high for local companies. Lower trade barriers and changes in exchange-rate policy made foreign goods more affordable, but also increased the prices of Argentine-made products.
“The government is opening up with no parachute,” said Daniel Schteingart, a director at Fundar, a research center in Buenos Aires.
Mr. Milei does not seem worried. He recently shared a screenshot from Temu showing Milei-themed merchandise on sale, including caps with one of his catchphrases: “There is no money,” a rallying cry against state spending.
Daniel Politi contributed reporting.
Emma Bubola is a Times reporter covering Argentina. She is based in Buenos Aires.
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