If you've ever browsed the jewellery stalls of the Dominican Republic, you've almost certainly seen larimar: that milky, sky-blue stone sold in rings, pendants and polished chunks across the country. What many shoppers don't realise is that it comes from a single place on Earth — the hills of Barahona in the country's southwest — and that the supply is finite.

That reality is now prompting tighter oversight. Officials at the National Office of Industrial Property (ONAPI), including its director of distinctive signs Michelle Marie Guzmán, are pushing for stronger regulation of larimar extraction, describing the stone as a non-renewable resource that needs protecting for future generations. A Regulatory Council chaired by the Ministry of Energy and Mines already sets rules for how the stone is extracted and sold, covering environmental standards and protections for the miners themselves — but the pressure is mounting.

The numbers explain why. In just the first half of 2025, the Dominican Republic exported 177,540 pounds of larimar — nearly double the 95,480 pounds shipped out in the whole of 2024. Demand, particularly from big overseas markets, is climbing fast while the deposit stays fixed in size.

The country has also moved to guard the stone's identity. In 2025, the "Larimar Barahona" designation of origin gained international recognition through the World Intellectual Property Organization and has been registered in 28 countries under the Lisbon Agreement. The idea is to stop lookalike stones from trading on the name, while channeling value back to the miners, artisans and small businesses along the chain — and boosting exports to markets like the United States and China.

For travellers, this matters more than it might seem. Larimar is one of the most popular souvenirs in the Dominican Republic, and buying a genuine piece — ideally one marked with the Larimar Barahona designation — means you're supporting the local communities who actually mine and craft it, rather than a counterfeit trade. It also means the real thing may become scarcer, and pricier, as regulations tighten and the reserve shrinks. If a blue stone piece is on your shopping list, buying sooner rather than later is a reasonable bet. Barahona itself, with its untouristed coastline and mining heritage, makes a worthwhile detour for anyone wanting to see where the stone actually comes from.

The takeaway from Santo Domingo is simple: the country knows it holds something no one else has, and it wants that something to last. Expect stricter rules on how larimar is pulled from the ground and who gets to sell it — and treat any authentic piece you bring home as genuinely one of a kind.