Counterfeit

There is an interesting character study in last week's issue of the New Yorker about Harley Lewin, an entertainment lawyer turned counterfeit hunter.

Many people feel counterfeiting, especially in fashion, is something of a victimless crime.

All I can say is this: I was the victim of a heinous counterfeiting scam. It is a day that will go down in infamy in my heart. Here's what happened.

For my graduate school graduation, a well meaning family member bought me a black nylon Prada bag. (Those of you that know me, know, that this family memeber could not have been my mother, who objects to expensive nylon, and knows her Prada from her Miu Miu.) It came wrapped in a box, in a clear plastic bag marked Prada, with tags on it.

I didn't give it a second thought. There was no way in the world I was going to carry the thing. A light went off in my head. I would return it to the Prada store, and get something ridiculous, like a cell phone case, or a coin purse. Fun!

One beautiful spring day I traipsed down to SoHo. I stopped to return some stuff to Bloomies, and to Coach. And then, with an air of frantic anticipation, I hopped into Prada. I flowed down the stairs to the returns department and waited my turn.

"I'd like to return this please. It was a gift, so I don't have the receipt." I said, sharing a knowing glance with the chic girl working behind the counter, one that said, I would never carry this, and of course, neither would you.

She picked it up gingerly, in her manicured hands, and took it out of it's plastic shell. She turned it up and down, and around. And then, oh the humiliation! She smiled gently at me. The Prada girl SMILED! I knew something was very wrong.

"I'm so sorry. This isn't one of our bags. They never come in plastic like this." She said in a gentle voice. She slid it back to me, politely.

"Oh my GOD! I'm so sorry!" Picking up the thing, I fled out of the store. They had killed me with kindness! I had tried to return a fake! How could I have been so foolish. The bag was a dull nylon, not a rich shiny satin nylon. It had a cheap, twisted, handle. The plate, seen against the gleaming real ones in the store, was large and vulgar. And it came in a plastic bag! Even bags from J.Crew have cloth bags!

I ran all the way the home, only stopping to call my mother for consolation. Had I been set up, made a fool of? My cheeks burned.

After I got home, had a glass of water, and settled down, I thought about the situation. I felt way worse for my FM then I did for myself. I am sure my poor family member had gotten the thing on ebay, and had been tricked. This person bought the bag on the good faith that it was real. (In fact the picture above is pretty similiar to the one I was given. I pulled it off ebay this morning.)

I stuffed the bag in the back of my closet. I thought about giving it to one of RC's niece's as a gift. Both are young girls, and they would probably love it. But then I didn't want to pass the taint along. What if someone called them out on it? If it was mortifying for me, what would it be like for a ten year old? I eventually threw it away. I didn't know what else to do.