I don’t understand human logic when it comes to the difference between genuine and fake. Which side are we really on?
On the surface we give too much value to everything genuine.
We even use the term as a compliment.
We all want a genuine partner or a genuine diamond ring or a genuine handbag.
But what we all really want, deep down, is the fake stuff.
Well, maybe not in the diamond area.
Not only people want to accumulate fake stuff around them, they don’t seem to get enough of them.
Take for example our fascination with movies.
We actually pay money and devote time to watch fake actors in fake situations and fabricated stories.
We even give actors prizes for the best fake story that touched our hearts.
When films try to get closer to reality, or to being genuine, we treat them with despise and demote them to “documentaries” which end up filling dead airtime on TV.
What brought all this to my mind was the personal experience I recently had when I went with a friend to discover the magic of “genuine fake” merchandise markets in Dubai.
You should see how ordinary folks are suddenly turned into caring archeologists caressing each gen-fake piece lovingly and patiently, as if it was the last of its kind on Earth.
As a human being suffering from a weak spot for watches and shoes; I could not resist the urge to buy one “genuine fake” item of each.
It did not take much time for me to be duly sold and to be separated from my money like a certified fool.
The looks were great and the price was affordable.
As the Americans say, I was a happy camper.
I left the store 10 inches taller.
By the way, to this day I still don’t understand why Americans associate “tallness” with happiness!
Do they assume that all short people must be always miserable?
Determined to impress my co-workers with my new acquisition; I put my new watch proudly on my wrist and made sure it is strategically positioned within the line of sight of every person I interacted with.
The volume of compliments I received convinced me that every penny was way well invested, and that I absolutely made the right decision.
Since the watch worked perfectly and looked great, I contemplated going there again to buy few more watches for the different days of the week.
That was when I noticed a minor problem with the cherished watch.
You see, the date counter on it went beyond the 31st – it kept maddeningly showing 32, 33, 34, and so on.
What am I going to say to my colleagues?
How can I explain to them the reason my calendar is different from the rest of humanity, or that my months happen to have more than 31 days, considerably more!
I couldn’t possibly go back and ask for a refund.
Naturally I couldn’t also ask for the watch to be sent to the manufacturer for proper repair, since no manufacturer will claim it.
I had to bite the bullet and retire the watch in the socks drawer.
Last time I checked, the date counter was pushing well over 70.
I pulled the “genuine fake” shoes to wear them as planned and that was when I noticed the second problem.
From inside the shoes, there was the magical phrase that moved me to buy them – it said “Made in France”.
From the outside, however, the shoes had this on them: “Made in England”.
Which one should I believe?
Is it France, or England, or both?
Is it the North Atlantic Treaty, perhaps?
Did the US have a hand in this joint venture somehow?
Why would France and Italy collaborate on a shoe that would end up in a dusty Dubai market and then then finds its way inside my humble closet?
Unable to cope with this dilemma, I retired the shoes as well.
Thanks to the “Fenuine Fever”, I am now the un-proud owner of a lunatic numbers-chasing watch and a schizophrenic shoe that should be preserved in history next to the Concord.
Artwork done by: Nawal Zahzah adventuresofnaz.com