Real and fake

The relationship between real and fake,
value and values, what really matters
and is it different for everyone?

 

Knock offs.

Before I left for China, I always wanted the real thing. I never bought into the trend of buying fake Louis Vuitton purses in the early 2000s. I wanted to be authentic—the real thing. I wanted my things to be nice; and if I couldn’t afford something I would do without until I could afford it. I didn’t try to copy anyone or pretend I was something I wasn’t. I felt not buying fake designer purses and clothing was an outward reflection of this value.

It seemed cheap to me if people knew you had a fake that was falling apart because of shoddy work. Even if people thought it was real, I knew it wasn’t. My friend Heather said she wouldn’t want to wear a Louis Vuitton purse—even if it was fake—and walk by a homeless person on the street. She said she would feel horrible.

This is understandable. However, as an artist, I appreciate well-designed things. Also having gone to an expensive art school, I realize how expensive an education in the arts is. I don’t want to live in a world where everyone wears horribly designed clothes cheaply made for Wal-Mart. I want to live in a world where artists make beautiful things—and I’m willing to support that. People spend thousands of dollars on paintings and sculpture. Why not fashion? I don’t want to live in a world with no art, beauty or culture. I am glad high fashion exists. I am glad there are designers that devote their lives to the craft and make ornate outfits where everything in the design is considered. For me, that is a value.

I used to think fashion was superficial. I thought of it as people trying to fit in by buying brand names—often expensive T-shirts that were just a T-shirt with a logo. Then, I studied abroad in Paris and studied the history of fashion. I gained an appreciation for it. I went to the Louvre and sketched ancient Grecian relief sculptures and discussed in class how clothing reflected the culture and time of a people. It wasn’t fake—it was reflecting values.

Some people say it’s silly to pay for the brand—that at a certain point you’re not paying for quality, you’re paying for the name. But I think it’s OK as long as the motivation is to support the designer and not as a status symbol.

But what do you do if you have no money?

In Thailand I hurt my foot and needed to buy closed toe shoes to wear instead of flip-flops. I had a pair of gray and mint green Tiger Asics, but they cost $78, so I wanted to find some cheap shoes I didn’t care about since we were going to be getting dirty. On the street, the only clothing available was brand name. I even saw a sign that said this particular store’s goods weren’t fake. If someone feels compelled to point it out, it makes you really question how valid their claim is…

Anyway, I saw some black and florescent pink Tiger Asics that I liked. My cousin bartered them down to $15 for me; then it was a matter of finding the right size. I’m a size 7, but what about for these shoes? To try to help, I looked on the back of the tongue of the shoes I was wearing. Then I realized how ridiculous this was. I was 99 percent sure these were fake shoes, but then thinking in terms of them as the real thing I looked to my authentic shoes. My shoes said, “Made in Vietnam, US size 7.” The black Tigers said, “Made in U.S.A., US size 3.” Hmmm. Shoes made in Vietnam, $78. Shoes made in the USA, $15.

 In Chiang Mai, Thailand, venders will set up their wares for the night market every evening before it gets dark on Chang Klan Road. Items include souvenirs, food and knock offs.

When I set out to buy these items, I just wanted to buy something cheap. They could be ugly; I didn’t care. They were going to get dirty anyway. But catching glimpses of myself in the mirror at the hotel, I was pleased with my purchases. And they later got dirty, but then they were washed and were nice and clean to wear. I looked good.

It’s not like all of a sudden I didn’t have a soul or a sense of self. It’s not like I felt like I didn’t need to be committed to things—all of a sudden living for instant gratification and transient fashions.

Later in Shanghai, I bought some plaid scarves. They said “Burberry Made in London” on the tags. But the plastic packaging it came in said, “Made in China.” I took a picture of because it was so blatant—the epitome of how blatant stealing intellectual property is in China.

 At the fake market in Shanghai, people can buy knock offs on the cheap. Though illegal, a “Burberry” scarf label reads “Made in London,” while the plastic packaging these scarves come in tell a different story: “Made in China.”


But I really like the scarves and would probably never be able to afford them in my lifetime. They made me happy. I also bought Adobe Creative Suite CS5 for … wait for it … $4.25 (25 RMB).

Morally I’m against stealing intellectual property; but I can’t afford it. I don’t know what conclusion to make. I feel like people should buy the real thing, yet I bought fake scarves, shoes and software. I’m trying to reconcile being a hypocrite in my head.

After wearing the fake fashion for a while, I got used to it and thought about how even though they’re fake, they are actual shoes and scarves. They are real tangible material objects. So, are they fake? Am I fake because I wear them? They say not to judge a book by its cover and it’s what’s on the inside that counts. So, despite the fake exterior, there’s a genuine person inside.

Written 2011 and photographed 2011, 2013