Confessions of a Designer Bag Lady

“Is that a fake Prada? I could spot it a mile away.”

I still have trouble believing that a girl from my cheerleading squad actually said this to me in the 10th grade. To be fair, she was right. The authentic black nylon Prada backpack that she owned — and I coveted — cost over $300, an incalculable amount of hours spent babysitting, so I bought a fake. My friend Erica and I used to take the train into Manhattan once in a while and go down to Canal Street to scoop up knockoff Kate Spade bags that we called “fake Spades” for about $30. At the time, all the cool girls in school had Kate Spade totes and messenger bags, which retailed for around $150.

Even if nobody noticed, there’s something about wearing a fake bag that makes me feel a little dirty. Was it obvious that the shape was a little off, or that the sheen wasn’t quite right? One of my fake Spades lost its glued-on label, and therefore its value. One by one, my fake bags fell apart or wore out, and I’d have to get another. After a while, I realized that at $30 a pop, it would make sense to just save up and get the real thing. That’s when my love affair with bags began.

Read the full story at Huffington Post Style.

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