In Beirut, the Deal Is in the (Fake) Bag!

The streets of Beirut are increasingly resembling a gigantic open-air bazaar… of luxury bag counterfeits! Kelly, Birkin, Lady Dior, Chanel 2.55, quilted bags, Hermès belts: they are absolutely everywhere, proudly displayed on the arms of Lebanese women or on the passenger seat of their shiny SUVs. “Look how beautiful my new Kelly is, I adore it! I paid $500 for it from a friend who brought it back from Turkey,” exclaims Carla, in her early thirties and Botoxed, sipping a cocktail at a pub where it’s good to be seen. Her friend Nadine adds, “Mine is even better, I chose it from a catalog sent to me by a seller on Instagram. The quality is insane, it looks real!”
It makes you wonder if they are talking about the same bag … that Birkin or Kelly that French women wait months to be able to acquire at Hermès, for a minimum price of €10,000 to €25,000. A pinnacle of craftsmanship made in France that requires no less than 18 to 40 hours of expert work to come into existence. So, $500 for a Turkish copy from a factory with dubious working conditions, let’s admit it, sounds a bit off, doesn’t it?
But no matter, our little Cedar princesses fully embrace and ostentatiously flaunt their immoderate love for these fakes. They are even proud of it and do not hesitate to flood social media with photos of themselves, in tight crop tops and ripped jeans, sporting their copies. “Look how beautiful my fake Birkin is!” Sacred Instagram has become, for them, the temple of affordable and immediately available luxury.
In this virtual world where fake seems to have taken precedence over authentic, you can find everything. Almost perfect replicas coexist with unspeakable horrors that would make any lover of fine leather goods shudder. But no matter, as long as the LV, CC, or H logo is clearly visible and the golden chains are shiny. The main thing is to shine in society and make one’s entourage believe that one can afford this ultimate luxury that is THE much-coveted bag.

Instagram, TikTok and the like are full of enticing videos praising the merits of this seller or that online platform offering the Rolls-Royce of fake designer bags. Influencers with ultra-bright white teeth even recommend to their community, “The best copies, really incredible, no one will see the difference, girls.” Sure…
Exchanges are lively to find THE rare pearl at a lower cost. “Selling brand new never worn beautiful quilted Chanel bag with authentic dust bag, tel: xyz.” In two clicks, the deal is concluded. Delivery in person, payment in cash, and the deal is done. And the famous bag joins the collection of its counterfeit sisters, already well stocked in the dressing room of their new owner, delighted to have made a deal. Because, between us, paying $500 for this bag sold on the Lebanese “Bon Coin” instead of $6,000-$25,000 in a Paris store is dreamy, isn’t it? Even if the chain sags, the seams are coarse and the plastic leather can be smelled from 10 meters away…
This frenetic quest for appearance, which sometimes borders on the grotesque, is not new in the Land of the Cedar, where the cult of appearance and bling-bling excesses have always held a prominent place. But with the worsening of the situation, this compulsive need to shine at all costs by sporting the most prestigious brands in the world seems to have intensified. Even if the price to pay is wearing a pale copy made in China… The important thing is to save face. Indeed, seeing so many of these more approximate and flashy copies parade daily through the streets of the capital does not fail to provoke hilarity.
So, one of two things: either these artisans of the luxury world are real geniuses who managed to flood the Lebanese market with hundreds of thousands of hyper-rare pieces in record time, which is, of course, utopian; or our beauties of Beirut are blatantly mocking us with their Kelly and Birkin supposedly scouted at a gold price … which is the harsh and pitiable reality.
In the end, it is clear that the absurdity of the situation is as ridiculous as our precious ones!
Bélinda Ibrahim
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