Faking It

Orgasms, British accents, smiles – people fake a lot of different things in life. Sometimes certain situations merit a little faking here and there, but for the most part faking is usually regarded as a bad thing. Especially in the world of fashion.
The allure of purchasing a counterfeit fashion good is undeniable. By their very nature, objects produced by high fashion companies are expensive, and finding authentic pieces at a discount is nearly impossible. Companies like Louis Vuitton establish their image by guaranteeing that their items never go on sale, so what’s a fashionista with a strict budget supposed to do? Turning to a world of knockoffs seems like a reasonable option. After all, big cities like New York are chock-full of places to purchase knockoffs and sometimes the replicas are indistinguishable from their authentic counterparts, sold on Madison Avenue for ten to twenty times the price. Clearly, you’d be an idiot NOT to take advantage of these cheaper alternatives!
Sadly, this isn't the case. In a world where customers are hooked on bargains, consumers are increasingly more intent on owning status symbols for a fraction of the cost, meaning they are more willing to purchase fakes to satisfy that craving. While buying the occasional counterfeit Versace wallet or Prada handbag might not seem like a devastation to the entire fashion industry, the World Customs Organization states that the fashion industry loses up to $9.7 billion dollars every year to counterfeiting. Louis Vuitton handbags, whose canvases are emblazoned with the noticeable and familiar LV monogram, have become the most relentlessly knocked-off bags in fashion history, with reportedly only 1% of purses in circulation being authentic. Some people assume that this widespread copying is a form of flattery, but the brands certainly do not. Giorgio Armani, who has been having trouble trying to eliminate the sale of knockoffs in China, admits that having his brand counterfeited “is flattering, because it means that you are doing the right thing,” but also proclaims that “it is a problem, and something is going to be done.”
The something to which Armani is referring is litigation. Brands like Kate Spade and Louis Vuitton have taken matters into their own hands by employing private investigators to find where knockoffs of their brands are being sold, then suing the dealers. A good example is the recent LVHM and Christian Dior Couture (segment of Dior not owned by LVMH) suit filed against ebay.fr in 2006 for “not doing enough to fight the problem of counterfeit items on the site.” Using their tremendous financial power, the brands usually defeat unlicensed retailers of counterfeit goods in court, however the process is arduous and time consuming, and ultimately fashion companies can only deal with a small fraction of illegal activity.
Perhaps you don’t feel bad taking a little money from the big-time fashion corporations. After all, they comprise a multi-billion dollar industry, and tycoons like Bernard Arnault (chairman of LVMH and the richest man in France) certainly need the money less than you do. Well, part of the reason that the real goods are so expensive is because of the conditions in which they are produced. The majority of luxury products are produced in the United States, Italy, and France, where working conditions are strictly monitored and employees are provided with a variety of benefits. Items produced on the black market (often in factories in developing nations like China, Vietnam, and Thailand) on the other hand, are not monitored and therefore workers are not guaranteed anything. Laborers are often forced to work in sweatshops, characterized by unsafe conditions, long hours (not 50 hours a week long - long, like 90 hours a week long) and child labor, sometimes by kids as young as 8 years old. Furthermore, the profits made by counterfeiters rarely see their way back to the workers, but more often fund more illegal activities, such as drug trafficking, human trafficking, and terrorism.
Lastly, there is the social stigma surrounding these products. The quality of knockoffs is often shoddy at best, with glue holding the seams together instead of thread, zippers that don’t easily close, and “leather” that sweats and wears out quickly. Often, your money is better spent on a quality, non-brand name bag sold at a legitimate retailer than on a fake. After all, think about why you want to buy a black Chanel leather handbag over a nondescript black leather handbag sold at JC Penny. Quality? Sure. Style? Perhaps. Status? Now that’s the one. And by buying a fake, you are faking that status. You’re pretending to be totting a $1,000 dollar handbag, when you maybe spent $50. In Sex in the City, Carrie Bradshaw goes with Samantha to buy a fake Fendi bag in LA, but upon seeing the bags, she decides against it. She narrates, "I should have liked them. But staring into that trunk, they no longer looked like elegant Fendi bags, they just looked cheap. And even if everyone else thought it was real, I’d always know my bag came from a cardboard box in a trunk deep in the valley. [At least when you] wait for the real thing, you know it’s one of a kind and special or something." So what does it mean when you care about status so much that you would buy a cheap, poorly-made, and morally questionable item? Well, it means that your designer brand-name obsession has gone much too far.

Quality Control (or lack thereof): The Prada Case Study

This post is inspired by a recent purchase – my very own Prada messenger bag. Like many young adults with an affinity for fashion, but not the bank account to back it up, I decided that while I can’t deck myself out in a Prada suit everyday for work, I could save my money and buy a little piece of the dream in the form of a black, nylon bag that I can carry almost every day. With the price tag at $750 dollars, it certainly wasn’t an inexpensive purchase, but I hoped that the bag would last a decade. A few days later, I was trying to explain my splurge to a friend who was criticizing me for buying a bag that “wasn’t even leather and wasn’t worth the money.” I was literally in the middle of countering her attack by saying, “Yeah, but look at the craftsmanship. Everything is perfect, the lining is immaculate, and the stitching is even…” when my friend noticed that the seam holding the strap to my bag was coming undone. It was only 5 stitches that were pulled out slightly, but having only carried the bag for a week and having spent almost 2 paychecks to get it, I was pretty horrified. I went to the internet to find out if there was anything I could do to have Prada either refund or fix my bag for me when I discovered they were dealing with other bag problems as well.
At Milan’s 2008 fashion week in January, there was much hype swirling about Miuccia Prada’s new design concept – colorful fairy prints. The clothes were colorful, avant-garde pieces said to be inspired by the daydreams of a young girl but they weren’t something everyone would want to wear. The purses, on the other hand, were quickly becoming the “It” bag of the season and were retailing for over $2200 dollar with a three month waiting list. But Prada's success was suddenly overshadowed by a devastating realization – the beautiful colored ink used to dye the bags was running the instant water touched the purse. Purseblog.com noted that, “Prada is well aware of [the bleeding] problem. Some SA’s warned their customers due to the nature of the delicacy of the bag the ink could bleed. There have also been conflicting stories [about] how Prada is handling it. Some say Prada will not refund you after buying the bag, some say they will. What I do know is that when paying upwards of $2500 for a bag, you want it to stay in tact and the ink to stay in place. For those of you that already own the bag, be cautious with it in the rain and make sure to read up on the issues.” One blog poster wrote, “My fairy bled and so did my heart.” A bit dramatic perhaps, but try and imagine watching the ink from 2,500 dollars worth of paper bills blotch before your eyes and you will see what this person was feeling.
The last Prada nightmare story I have encountered was in the pages of Dana Thomas’s book, Deluxe: How Luxury Lost its Luster (which I mentioned in the last post). Here is an excerpt from her book:

“In 1992, I bought a pink sleeveless Prada cocktail dress that was made of thick iridescent cotton and silk faille, fully lined, and finished beautifully. It cost 2,000 dollars, but it is couture quality and will last forever. Ten years later, I bought a pair of thin cotton-poplin cropped trousers at Prada for $500. I put them on, and the gentle passing of my foot ripped the hem out. I put my hand in the pocket, and it tore away from the seam. I squatted down to pick up my two year old, and the derriere split open. I hadn’t had the pants ten minutes and they were literally falling apart at the seams. I mentioned this to a former Prada design assistant. ‘It’s the thread,’ he told me. ‘It’s cheaper and breaks easily.’ When I told him about my gorgeous dress from 1992 that was as solid as a Rolls, he nodded. ‘That was then,’ he said with a sigh.”

How can companies like Prada call themselves luxury goods companies when the luxury only lasts ten minutes? It is true that people buy luxury goods for many reasons, status being the primary one (in my opinion). However, many people justify their purchases with the rationale that the price-per-wear or the price-per-use is similar to cheaper alternatives. So what IS the motivation to continue “buying labels” when they are guaranteed to fall off in a matter of days? I was fortunate in that my Prada bag was replaced within the week, but many others were not so lucky. I think it is time that Prada, as well as many other high-fashion companies, scale back on the plans for global domination and mass production (see the cover of Deluxe for the visual image of this idea) and take the time to reconsider what they are selling to the customer. Luxury may not last forever, but it certainly is supposed to make it out of the store!

How the Fashion Industry Sold Out: The Emergence of the Designer Cell Phone

I recently started reading a book by Dana Thomas called Deluxe, How Luxury Lost Its Luster, which was recommended to me by a professor at the UCLA Law Department two weeks ago. The book is all about how fashion is now solely focused on commodification and increasing profits as opposed to creativity, design and style. It is a very critical look at an already controversial industry, but because it is so well-researched and well-written, I am trying to keep an open mind despite the fact that it is destroying a lot of my preconceived notions about the fashion industry. One thing that the book has not yet mentioned (but would fit in perfectly with the idea that designers are selling themselves out to big business) is the prospect of the designer cell phone. Even I can see that the phones are a blatant attempt to reign in more customers, enter new markets, and brand something that you had no part in creating.
The first designer cell phone I ever remember seeing was Motorola’s Razr “designed” (and I use this term loosely) by Dolce and Gabbana in 2005. The phone was gold and had D&G emblazoned on the back of the phone and on the screen's wallpaper background. No extraordinary features were included on the phone with the exception of the color and a special ringtone, yet the phone sold at prices that were sometimes triple the cost of a regular Razr in silver or black. Since then, the hype in cell phone technology has only increased by including better cameras, touch screens, bluetooth, GPS, etc. and fashion designers have not ceased attempts to snag a part of the enormous profits.
Since the D&G phone, we have seen the emergence of the Giorgio Armani cell phone for Samsung, the Prada phone for LG, a Diane von Furstenberg Sidekick, a Dior cell by ModeLabs... I simply don’t have the time to list how much the unbranded phones cost versus their logoed counterparts, but let it suffice to say that they are all overpriced. With an iPhone now priced around $300 dollars, it seems ridiculous to pay $800 for a Prada phone or $5,000 (no that’s not a typo, there are three zeros on the end of that 5) for the Dior phone. One blogger writes, “When is a cell phone worth 5,000 dollars? Hint: never.” And I completely agree. I found one cell phone designed by the famous French jeweler Boucheron for Vertu that is selling for $310,000. Yes, the phone is decked out in diamonds and rubies, but PLEASE! Whose ego needs stroking so badly that their phone has to cost as much as a down-payment on a house? Here is an idea - buy a ruby bracelet, a diamond ring, AND a cell phone, keeping each entity separate from one another.
In my opinion, the materialization of designer cell phones is the most transparent attempt by fashion houses to expand their customer base and drive up sales without contributing anything besides their name. It is true that some customers might be unwilling to spend 900 dollars on a purse but would spend that much on a cell phone. It is also true that we have entered modern times, and adaptation is crucial in order to remain relevant. That is why I am not ranting about the creation of cell phone holders and iPod cases – I can imagine Miuccia Prada’s expertise in leather and craftsmanship could result in a very elegant cell phone case, but until the media leaks that she got her degree in computer science and has become a cell phone programmer as well as a fashionista, I will maintain that the two creations should remain separate. Sure, if you have a lot of money, go ahead and buy a nice phone, but if the name brand is the only thing distinguishing it from a phone that is hundreds of dollars cheaper, then you have undoubtedly entered “fashion victim” territory. I know I said that this blog wouldn’t be a style guide, but in this case I can’t help but cry out, “Stay away from designer phones!" They simply aren’t worth the money and you look like you are trying way too hard.

Keep Your Label Hidden

Since I decided to focus on Victoria Beckham in the last post, I figure I will continue the trend by starting out with her in this post; especially because it plays into a topic that I have wanted to write about for a while now.
In the October 2008 issue of Details magazine, Beckham says, “I don’t mind a vintage T-shirt with a logo on it that’s tongue-in-cheek. But if a man were to have just a huge logo on his chest, no. I think that’s very unattractive.” And many people agree with her. In the book titled, “The Fashion Questionnaire”, designers respond to various questions such as “What is your favorite decade in fashion”, “what is your biggest fashion pet peeve”, etc. Nicole Miller’s biggest pet peeve: big designer logos. And it isn’t just designers claiming this is a fashion no-no. Stylists and editors are constantly focusing on “staples” and “under-stated” looks where less is more.
This topic is personally very interesting to me as it takes me back to my fashion-victim four months in Paris. From August to December 2007, I lived in Paris taking courses in everything from Haute Couture to International Business. Before arriving, I updated my wardrobe with all the staples I would need, plus a few extra. I got a new blazer, a cardigan, a black v-neck sweater, some polos in winter colors. I even dropped $185 dollars on gray 7 for All Mankind jeans (which retail in Paris for 300 euro, so I guess that is a deal) because GQ told me I should. When I got there, I was feeling great, but one month later I was feeling a little insufficient again.
I don’t know if it was fashion week, or if it was the fact that I was sitting in a class for 3 hours a week discussing labels like Hermès, Louis Vuitton, and Dior that made feel like my clothing “staples” were no longer enough to get me by in fashion-conscious Paris. As a result, I got online and started to buy. I got a Versace shirt, a D&G shirt, a Versace wallet, and a Dior sweater, all complete with logos, some huge and some small. The packages kept coming in the mail and my roommate, whose fashion sense was a little more mature than mine at the time, was in a constant state of horror as I dawned my new threads. “That is SO tacky!” I would hear every other night while getting ready to go out. I brushed it off though, because I was wearing Versace, and everyone knew it! I was unstoppable!
This phase lasted all the way until I stepped foot back onto U.S. soil in late December, notably much poorer than before I left. When I got home I wore the Versace shirt one last time in public, and when some guy passed me on the street and said (somewhat) under his breath, “ver-SACE!” I knew it was time to give it up. I don’t know if the comment was to compliment it, diss it, or merely acknowledge its existence, but I realized I no longer wanted people to know what I was wearing because the name was on my chest, shoulder, sleeve, or back. For example, if you can tell that I am wearing Burberry, I want it to be because you noticed the small novacheck piping, not because the whole shirt is plaid. Clothes should be for the person wearing them, not for anybody else. It took a while for me to learn, but it was a lesson worth learning and, I think, worth sharing. From now on, my labels are on the inside of my clothes, where they belong. The only thing that still survives in my wardrobe today from the Paris clothing binge is the Dior sweater (which I was wearing when I met Project Runway designer Sweet P), whose logo is smaller than the Polo player on a Ralph Lauren polo, which is just the right size for me now.

Want knock-offs from Prada, Gucci, and Diesel? Just GUESS which store you should shop.

Before I started this blog, I created a list of topics that I wanted to discuss- you know, to make sure I had enough ideas to make this blog worth while. Well, I thought I had a great little piece worked out for today dealing with the popularity of designer logos, but my shopping trip to Macy’s tonight made me change my mind. The “logos” debate can wait; tonight I want to talk about Guess, while my thoughts are still fresh. Here is how the whole thing got started…

Strolling through the Men’s Shoe Department, I was keeping my eye out for a decent pair of loafers. It has become a tiny obsession for me recently and until I can bring myself to buy the pair from Prada that I truly want, or find a cheaper alternative that I like just as much, I will continue to pay attention to them in every department store I enter. But what I saw tonight did not bring an end to my mania, it heightened it. At first glance, I could have sworn the loafers sitting right in front of me were none other than the famous Gucci loafers, complete with tan “guccisima” print, which now adorns almost every piece of merchandise the Gucci brand has to offer.
The thought evaporated in my mind almost as quickly as it had formed and was replaced by questions instead. “Since when does Macy’s (especially the store in my suburban town mall) carry anything but Gucci sunglasses?” I asked myself. Then I noticed the red sticker placed on the stand holding the shoes… “AND SINCE WHEN DOES IT GO ON SALE!?” I stared at the distorted print a second longer and realized that this was no Gucci loafer, it was Guess! I had been momentarily fooled… now they had really gone too far.
I have always thought Guess was a little too obvious in their mimicking of high fashion. I realize that “high-street” stores like Zara and Gap are meant to offer designer trends to a market that cares about fashion but can’t afford the high-end merchandise of French and Italian luxury brands, but Guess always seemed to go further than that. Let’s say Versace creates a line of purple and black dresses and then one month later, purple dresses and black leggings are displayed on mannequins in the front of an H&M. This happens all the time and it is fine with me. If a cotton purple dress is what you want, and you are not trying to pass it off for something it isn’t, then great. Many times, a $50 dollar dress can look as good as a $500 one. But taking the famous Gucci “G’s”, Prada’s iconic triangular metal logo, and the embroidery on the back pocket of Diesel jeans and calling them your own? It seems as though the company isn’t just taking trends, it is taking trademarks from famous fashion retailers! I mean, maybe I am looking into this too much, so have a look at the pictures and decide for yourself. I believe that even people that don’t care about labels will notice the blaring similarities.

While I think this practice of ripping off other companies is terribly tacky of Guess, it is not to say I dislike the brand entirely or think people should stop shopping there. I just think that one should be careful when making purchases from the store – are you getting something original for a better price than you would at Neiman’s or are you buying what might as well be called a knock-off?

To highlight my point one final time, I thought I would share a story about a shopping trip I took with my sister and her friend recently to Union Square after I came home from a five week trip to Shanghai. We were in Gucci looking at women’s shoes when I went over and picked up a pair of heels covered in the Gucci “G’s” and showed them to my sister. “Look at these,” I said. “I would never buy these. These are $400 dollar shoes, but when I was in China there were people trying to sell us the fake ones for like $20! They were everywhere! I just could not bring myself to buy shoes that cost this much if I thought people would just assume they were knock-offs.” To my horror, I realized a sales representative was standing not more than ten feet away from me, and by the grin on his face I could tell he heard me. He started to walk over, and just as I thought I was going to get some kind of light reprimand for calling his merchandise tacky, he smiled and said, “You don’t have to go all the way to China. A lower quality version of that shoe is in the display window at Guess right down the street.”
I Guess? I am not the only one who sees a similarity.