Musings on Counterfeit Handbags + Dupes, "Made in China" + Tarrifs Impact on American Consumption
Scattered thoughts that were slow to digest on my "Pretty Woman" experience, The controversy of luxury fashion + Chinese manufacturing + Is It Ok To Buy Counterfeit?!
“Look at how good it is”, my friend exclaimed, brandishing her patent leather Louis Vuitton Coussin bag in front of me, having reached for it from the depths of her closet.
I eyeballed it, and gave the plushy leather a squeeze.
My eyes narrowed into the grade of leather, the imprinted monogramming, the sealant of the corners.
“This isn’t real, is it”?, I hesitantly replied, gripping the bag in my hands.
She blinked, and two seconds slowly passed before she replied.
“No girl, it’s from DHGate…. but what gave it away”?
…….
The past few weeks, the internet has been ablaze over the bizarre thing (of all the issues to be in an uproar over, but alas), scandals over on Tik Tok- an alleged unearthing of a half truth blown into a wizard of oz experience for much of the internet.
Are these luxury designer handbags produced and labor to produce outsourced to Chinese factories?
Are these brands inflating the prices exorbitantly when in fact, there just be a “middle man” factory of artisans that one simply need only to shop directly in Tik Tok shop for?
Bypass beauracracy and save a ton of money along the way to secure the dream bag?
I was immediately asked to weigh in by friends, who genuinely concerned for… me?
Knowing that I am a lover of these things, many of you have asked my thoughts. Have I been bamboozled?
I’ve been slow to assemble my own thoughts here- because to me, there is so much nuance to unpack.
I don’t even know if I should begin to try, but I’ll suppose I’ll take a chance.
Back to that friend of mine.
I remember that day in particular in her closet because that was a moment that stuck out to me as a reality that I think she was seeking my approval.
She was happy as s*€t about finding such a piece- and her motivation seemed to be clear: she had some pieces she bought from the stores- but she no longer could keep up with her desire for more, at least financially.
She had just decked out her custom closet after I referred her to California Closet (a company I dream to one day design my own).
As I looked around this beautiful closet, I began to realize these new handbag additions were all, counterfeit beauties on display with LED lighting cast to showcase their beauty.
It might surprise you, but I don’t judge anyone for opting to purchase a counterfeit bag or dress.
I just want to clarify, as I’ve been told once or twice that I am a bit of snob. And while that may be true- in this department, I am literally “Switzerland” about it.
My Journey To Designer Fashion
Once upon a time, a young Aria was in New York for the first time, for a mandatory CDC training on how to replicate their behavioral health intervention program, SISTA, for trans women (T SISTA).
During that trip, I was made acutely aware of how poor I really was.
My boss at the time had forgotten to submit the check request to cover my per diem and hotel stay, but threatened that I would be fired if I didn’t physically show up to the training site.
Once I landed, I took a train from JFK into manhattan and then a bus to a low brow hostel stay.
My prepaid debit card declined for the incidentals - and so I had to then find a nearby check cashing place that would lend me $300 from my next payday.
I don’t remember all the logistics but thankfully I had a checkbook (a time when we still carried them).
I skipped lunch the entire time of the training- and walked to Mcdonald’s for a breakfast (coffee and egg biscuit) and also dinner.
I couldn’t afford much else.
But my friend (different friend), desperately wanted to find her favorite perfume- Thierry Mugler’s ALIEN was all the rage at that time and she had to have it.
What I thought would be a trip to the Macy’s flagship store in midtown turned out to be a trip to Canal street.
As we walked in to store to store, in search of this perfume, we kept turning up short.
A vendor emerged, beckoned his finger, nodding his head towards north and whispered- “Come”, saying that we could look into the items not on display, all we need to do was step downstairs.
I stepped down each narrow step into a dank and muggy basement, underneath Canal street to find a treasure trove of not just perfume- but the highly coveted designer finds, wrapped individually in plastic and styrofoam on the handles.
I surveyed the room, in awe of this bazaar of all the runway pieces I had swooned over.
I used to read copies of Vogue and fashion coffee table books at a bookstore/coffee shop on Turk and Van Ness. (I couldn’t actually afford Vogue- a $4 latte felt like a splurge back then).
My efficiency studio apartment a few steps away (Turk and Hyde) featured the lovely designer finds aesthetics of a sleeping bag, a broken futon and decorative reed/bamboo sticks from Pier 1.
Oh, and the 32 inch television I made one of my clients purchase for me at Best Buy- i imagine the cheapest television he could find so as to appease me upon his arrival for our intimate pre-booked session.
So standing there, in a dank basement filled with my favorite designers, a strange twilight zone was experienced.
I could have my cake and eat it too- and it could be real.
I had had designer pieces before, but I knew the effort it would take.
In high school I worked an entire summer, 6 days a week as a server at Outback Steakhouse and a part time Sales Associate at Old Navy in order to pay in installments for my Balenciaga City Bag in 2006.
In college, I used my financial aid to get the highly coveted Alexander Wang Rocco bag when it was released, taking a Greyhound bus from Ashland, Oregon for 7 hours to San Francisco to purchase at Barney’s San Francisco.
This was long before the stigma of layaway had been eroded with the emergence of Affirm or Klarna, and I was determined to have these bag.
Unfortunately upon coming to San Francisco, they were stolen by my boyfriend at the time’s mother in the Sunnydale projects after she unceremoniously kicked me out with nothing but the clothes on my back.
That is another story, for another day my darlings.
I digress (always).
So here I was, in my early 20’s- a part time sex worker and part time HIV test counselor, in a scenario where I could actually afford the items I had been swooning over.
There were the Louis Vuitton Neverfulls and Speedy bags, the Stella McCartney falabella bags in an assortment of metallic colorways and then I gasped.
The Celine Phantom tote I had dreamed of.
I had seen the likes of my style idols, Alexa Chung and Mary Kate and Ashley Olsen and others heavily photographed by paparazzi in the streets of New York, with this bag in tow.
I had reached a reality in life where I couldn’t even imagine putting in the work to achieve acquiring this bag.
I was considered lucky- blessed even, to be a Black trans woman with housing, even if in meager conditions.
As a Black trans woman, to have my SRO efficiency studio apartment, still fresh from having spent the previous two years as a fashion school drop out and liberal arts college dropout out turned street based sex worker, sleeping on trains and buses and abandoned commercial buildings- meant I had struck gold.
I had been transfigured from my previous era as a street based sex worker (POLK AND POST, all day)- Running from police in stilletos, hiding in the bathroom at the Gangway bar while the police made their first of the month round ups with the paddy wagon.
There was no way that I would ever imagine a world where I could walk into Celine and actually, with confidence, swipe and purchase the bag of my dreams.
I had been kicked down by life and an endless cycle of turning dates in luxury hotels I couldn’t ever afford to stay in, seedy hotels by the hour and recurring and numerous payday loans and my “18 hour a week but actually 30 hours but only paid for 18 hours”, minimum wage drop in center job to ever romanticize a reality where that would be possible.
I was already an anomaly to so many of my trans sisters, even in this state.
Count your blessings, they’d say.
For $40, I walked away proudly with my new Celine bag in a candy red.
I’m smiling writing this because it was a awful replica- glue residue, warping leather, the handles pilled and peeled shortly after purchase- and I’m sure it was all polyurethane (vegan leather aka plastic).
But for the first time, in a long time, walking down the street in New York, I felt vindicated and validated.
I felt fanciful again.
I felt like I had finally won at something.
I have always been the stylish friend, no matter my budget.
From H&M and Charlotte Russe pieces I once shoplifted (being radically honest) to sifting through Ross to find fashionable finds- I have always been resourceful for the look.
I will not stop until I get there.
In every aspect of my life.
So after the faux Celine, I purchased later a faux Louis Vuitton speedy bag in the damier azure that I proudly wore until the hardware turned green.
Once upon a time, I figured, these designers never truly design with me- a curvy black trans woman in the Tenderloin, in mind.
Why should I care?
Fast forward all these many years later- I’ve shared with you all the experience of gaining and now more recently, releasing my trophy collection of limited edition handbags, sunglasses and scarves- pieces from the designers I’ve grown up loving and admiring.
They will likely never know my name, but I have admired like so many, the beautiful artistic contribution they make of the world in the form of fashion.
Romanticizing the everyday objects- the utility of something as trivial as a handbag somehow being transfigured into iconography.
So, as one might imagine- years later, when I finally could access the things I had dreamed about since I was 9 years old, I did.
I probably went overboard- but I was debt free, rent paid up 10 months in advance, travelling the world and doing all the pinch me moments I couldn’t even daydream to be possible.
My “Pretty Woman” Moment
It meant a lot to me to be able to walk into the Gucci store in San Francisco- after years of sitting on the steps of Union Square and a cigarette, people watching, and wondering what it would be like to actually walk into Neiman Marcus or Saks with confidence- knowing that I could afford what was inside and strut around with the air and confidence of belonging.
From 2012 until 2019, I relied on exclusively shopping secondhand fashion finds from Fashion Exchange- a small consignment shop in Lower Nob Hill on Polk street for access to my fashions.
Back then, they had layaway and installment plans back then, it gave me access to pieces I ordinarily would never be able to afford in one credit card swipe.
In 2019, after I signed a year long brand ambassadorship deal with Airbnb for an opportunity of a life time to tour South America, Europe and Asia to help amplify LGBT traveler safety through activations across the globe.
With a renewed passport and fresh passport stamps and a cleared first check- I waltzed into the Gucci store with my head held high, and that confidence I had wished I one day could have, finally emanating from me.
The Sales Associates at the Gucci San Francisco boutique (hiiii Fernando if you’re reading!) wooed me with champagne, seating me on a velvet armoire in an upper room, and began to gently handle these artisan crafted pieces with white gloves, allowing me to see all the color ways and refreshing my memory on the legacy and prestige of Gucci.
Gucci’s origin story felt like it mirrored my own- I was the servant sex work worker satisfying the needs of rich White and Arab men, and he was the bellhop at the Savoy Hotel in London, satisfying the needs of the oligarchs of the world ensuring their satisfaction in their stay.
It felt like art imitating life or rather life imitating art.
I, the Pretty Woman- a black transgender woman hailing from the depths of the Tenderloin, a former street kid and prostitute, dressed in my most expensive dress and heels, marveling at the luxuries I finally had access to.
Except, unlike Pretty Woman- this was Aria Sa’id’s coming of age:
I would be paying in cash. In and with my own merit and resources.
I walked away with my beautiful Gucci duffle travel bag and a Gucci Marmont matelasse leather pouch, the latter that I will forever keep and will not sell- because it anchors so much of who I knew I could be. The duffle has been re-homed, but the pouch will forever stay. She travels with me on all my travels for that fact alone.
What Are We Paying For?
I’ve thought about these experiences a great deal in recent months, as I’ve shared with you all on releasing the remainder of my collection back into the wild via The Real Real + Fashionphile: why did it mean so much to me?
Many people believe that in shopping designer fashion, you pay for the affiliation, the proximity, the status.
I’m sure that’s an element.
But one look at my outfits and you can by deductive reasoning surmise that I don’t care what you think about me or my status.
In going through my photos over the years- outside of the faux Louis Vuitton and the vintage Louis Vuitton bucket bag- I seldom wore monogrammed bags.
I chuckle at the epiphany that in so many ways, my current collection (the pieces I kept), reflect the sensibilities that felt true to me before: unbranded, leather pieces.
I scoured my “cloud” to find old photos where I might have been photographed in handbags one might instantly recognize, turning up short.
Obviously, during COVID, I did begin to indulge in monogrammed Gucci pieces- and I think that was purely me being influenced. My best friend for many years LOVES a monogram bag, and I always loved the pieces she picked and would blend them into her wardrobe, and I think she influenced me to purchase my first monogram bag.
I digress- My relationship to the designer fashion experience and interrogating how it correlates with one’s sense of “status” has changed in some ways, but in many ways- it hasn’t.
I believe one should do whatever it is that will give them that air of confidence.
I think in a lot of ways, my bag buying journey was a race back to that day in New York City in 2010/2011- where I finally had a piece of confidence I hadn’t had in so long I had forgotten what that felt like.
I never in a million years would think that my life would allow me the ability to now walk into these stores and the shop folks would know my name, let me skip the queue lines, and race around pulling pieces for me as a VIC (Very Important Client).
They’d send me wine and truffles for christmas, handwritten notes, a bag charm or a wallet- whatever it took to woo me back into their stores to shop again.
There was an unexpected power in that, and I realized that sometimes in life- you don’t just pay for the product.
You pay for the experience.
The access and proximity.
You pay for the champagne.
You pay for the reputation.
The quality assurance.
The relationship.
If I have a defect or a scratch on any of my items- I just take it back to the boutique.
They fix it.
If not, they provide me with a new one.
There is a quiet power in that, at least for me.
The Tik Tok Scandal + “Made In China”:
When it comes to the “Made in China” debacle- some salient points from me (if you care).
I resent that “Made in China” is always said with an air of inferiority.
Two things can exist at the same time: there are sweat shops and slave labor factories in China but there are also some of the world’s greatest craftsman’s and crafts peoples working in family owned artisan focused collectives too. (Restoration Hardware. Zimmermann. Great designers I love- all produced in China).
On The Tik Tok Shop Video: I think the person is sharing a half truth. Common sense doesn’t appear to be so common, unfortunately.
The Chinese elite class are the number 1 sustainer of luxury goods in the world.
Followed by the United States and then Australia and then Japan.
Their buying power is incredibly strong- having brought the luxury stores to its knees during covid because they were more reliable than the American market (we sway too much and don’t hold nearly as millionaires as China; We have more billionaires per capita but they have more millionaires).
These lovely folks can be seen flocking to Paris, Monte Carlo, Dubai, Sao Paulo and London for their Hermes bags and Louis Vuitton and Goyard trunks. I’ve seen with my own eyes, the oligarchs in their Van Cleef alhambra jewelry and Hermes mini-kelly bags whisked away with shopping bags passed to their town car driver, after an exhausting day on the Champs Elysees.
I believe if they could source these same products from their fellow countrymen from the factories many of them actually own: they would.
I’ve worked with millionaires and billionaires- and I can assure you, they are cheap. Being rich does not mean being generous- trust me.
Xenophobia in Luxury Fashion & European Culture
That said, many of these factories do in fact, provide labor (sending cheap labor) to these brands. That makes me incredibly sad (re: exploitation and underpaid labor).
However, I think we forget the fragility of luxury brands.
Reputation (and desire) is the main currency they have. Without, they don’t survive. I highly doubt they would take such a reputational risk.
Fashion is often very “risk averse”- one wrong move, and your brand can collapse.
Even the Dior scandal, which some of you had a few choice words in my inbox in response to my video response: i know you read the headline, not the article.
Dior subcontracted labor and production to a factory in Italy that exploited and underpaid undocumented artisans in exchange for pennie’s on the dollar for those goods, as discovered by the Italian authorities.
They did not however, engage any factories in China to produce that we are aware of.
As someone who has traveled to much of Europe extensively- i think Americans are unaware that in many ways, Europeans have grown to become even more xenophobic than Trump supporters.
Unlike America- most white Europeans have been accustomed to being a part of a homogenous racial group- where the overwhelming majority of the country’s race is tied to that country (Italian, Dutch, British, etc).
They resent immigrants- despise them, for some incredulous reasons.
Those brands- that have worked to legislatively protect artisans and crafters are not about to risk it all for the sake of profit. It forces me to wonder, is there’s too much to lose?
That all said- the video that has gone viral 20x over is also created by a person with an agenda- to sell counterfeit goods.
That is how they make their money, honey.
How Things Are Made:
Wilson’s Leather, a Black owned tannery in Nigeria has been providing leathers to the heritage brands that we know and love for generations. An open secret, and yet somehow, in the “Made in China” conversation- Africa’s role in production often gets erased.
Overall, whether it’s the “Wizard of Oz” complex or an embellished truth, I think that the “Made in China” conversation illuminates just how much the Western World does not consider or think about how things are made. I’m less concerned about “where” so much as “how”. And more of us should be asking “how”- how are humans treated when producing things for our benefit? How are workers empowered? How are workers at a disadvantage?
My Take, If You Care
Do I judge anyone who decides to buy a replica or a “dupe”.
No.
Not in the slightest.
Do I resent theft of intellectual property? Absolutely.
And with that, I know exactly how it feels to be in a place where these things are inaccessible.
I had to gain access to a system I decided to buy into, to eventually learn and unlearn that luxury is not what they were in fact, selling.
[Aria’s Note: just pretty please don’t be the girl with the terrible knock off please! you know those louis vuitton knock off from the SWAT meet?
where they have the terrible daisy monogramming? Not that one!!
if you’re going to do it, do a “good one”.😂 ]
My definition of luxury has evolved- it’s not a thing I can buy, it’s a state of being.
Do I love these things? You know I swoon!
But I had a chance to have my cake and eat it too.
I know what it feels like to have a small win when you’ve been kicked down.
I know what it’s like to stare into the shop windows of Gucci and Prada and pray one day you might be bold enough and confident enough to walk in.
But you don’t, and you can’t- because you can’t afford the thing.
And often, you never could imagine being able to afford the thing.
It is presented as always and forever out of reach.
And shit, even when you can afford the thing, you probably shouldn’t (I should’ve bought that the house i was in escrow on a couple of years ago- I’d be mortgage free by now).
But nonetheless, perhaps the luxury for some is getting the replica and people assuming that it’s the real thing?
I know a woman who exclusively purchases replicas- and she is mortgage free, owns multiple homes, owns her car outright and buying these things (replicas) makes her feel like she is winning- fighting back against a system that says “you can’t sit with us”.
The luxury for her? That you think because of who she is in the world, her presentation and grandiose home and zip code, that it’s real.
When it’s not.
That’s her flex. I love that for her.
As for me, I can’t imagine buying on the black market now (it would be very difficult to go back LOL. i’ve tasted the manna from heaven)- I also know for many, they could never imagine spending what I’ve spent on these things.
Do your thing, and don’t care what people think.
I do my thing- and I can’t care what others say or think about me.
As the end of the day, if you buy whatever your vice- the stunning home or the mercedes benz or golf clubs or the membership to SOHO House- whatever your vices…..
it should be exclusively for you.
You’re the one stuck with the bill. To perform for others feels anti-luxury.
Until next time,
Aria
I own one tacky pink Gucci bag. Your writing makes me want to sort of care about bags because I love your storytelling!!!! BRILLIANT 🤌