|The first prince of street cred: Ali G|
The bigger the city, the bigger the scam- that's Sociology 101. I can live with that. What I didn't expect when I moved to Bombay however, was to be accosted by peddlers of counterfeit goods on every second street. Seriously, this city -or at least, my little hole in Bandra- is crazy: every second shop sells 'original' Gucci and Versace and the Queen's name-me-nots at a fraction of their prices.
I'm not particularly brand-conscious but I do stick to certain tried and tested labels when it comes to things like shoes or deodorant Not for any reason other than comfort. Oh okay, and maybe a little brand snobbery. The point is I pay top dollar for those peek-a-boo skinny jeans that get Girlfriend in a tizzy, and it pisses me off when I see everybody from the teaboy to the Prime Minister rock them bad boys.
Let's not forget I gave up a fairly well-paying job to become a full time 'writer'- which as the Mothership will tell you is just an euphemism for "checking Twitter and Facebook all day and living off his (quickly dwindling) savings". Brand loyalty however, like religion or heroin, is not easily thwarted by economic realities. I'll probably end up having to suck cock to pay for aftershave at the rate things are going, so imagine my angst when this conversation happened:
"Hey nice shoes, man. Are they real Pumas?"
"Uhh, no, you're imagining them."
"Of course they're real Pumas. What is this, 'City of God'?" .
"Calm down, man, I just meant.."
"I know what you meant. I don't ask you if your tits are real, do I?"
"They're all me, baby. But thank you."
"What are you, home-schooled? Have you never had to interact with people before?"
"Those are not real Pumas, are they?"
"I don't know, I found them on the train."
"A real train, or like a second hand goods shop?"
"I miss being able to buy stuff. Yesterday, I had a cigarette and a dollop of disappointment for dinner."
"You should really consider getting a grown-up job."
"I know. Just don't tell anybody about my Pumas ok? If you look real close, they actually say 'Fuma'."
"You've got yourself a deal. Now go work on a CV."
"I can't. My Mac's on the brink."
"Dude, come on."
"Okay, okay, my 'Nac' is on the brink. Are you happy now?"
"Yup. And get that rash on your neck checked out. It's probably all that Bucci cologne."
Icy Highs's Music Recco: 'Shopping' - The Jam