Fake and reality!

NhThe important thing is not the counterfeit goods, but the psychology that makes people willing to spend money, even borrow money, to put on the shell of a brand. It is the psychology of brand love - and more deeply, the desire to be recognized, to be seen and respected.

Not everyone who buys fakes is poor. Not everyone who uses fakes doesn’t know they’re fake. But many choose to do so because they want to enter a world where simply carrying a Chanel bag, real or fake, is enough to be considered “luxurious”. They buy a small dream, wrapped in a logo, in the fleeting admiring glances of others. In a society that increasingly values ​​appearance, owning a brand becomes a silent “passport” that helps us pass through the doors of prejudice.

Why do we crave recognition so much? Is it possible that deep inside each person there is a void, a place waiting to be filled by another person's nod, by an appreciative look, or by an unintentional compliment? This psychology is not unique to anyone. It is instinctive. It is the search for the feeling of being valuable, of belonging to a certain group of people, of being more luxurious, more beautiful, more proud. And in a world where human value is often measured by what they consume, branding becomes the fastest "language" to assert oneself.

The French philosopher Baudrillard once said that in a consumer society, people no longer consume things because of their needs, but because of the symbolic meaning they represent. A bag is no longer just for storing things, but to show that we “belong” to a class. A phone is no longer just for communication, but to prove that we are not left behind. And these things, whether real or fake, can create a temporary illusion: I am valuable, I am seen. According to Yuval Noah Harari, author of the famous book “Sapiens – A Brief History of Humankind”, luxury goods and brands are a “collective fiction”, that is, things that do not exist objectively in nature, but are believed and recognized by all of us as valuable. A Louis Vuitton bag is just a few pieces of leather and seams, but because millions of people believe it is luxurious, it becomes a symbol of class.

A young person can skip breakfast for a month to buy a pair of fake shoes that look exactly like the original. A girl can buy a fake Dior bag just to take a virtual photo. They do it not because of ignorance, but because they believe that without that item, they will be left behind. They will not be as beautiful as others, not as outstanding as others, not as worthy of admiration as others. And so, real or fake luxury goods become a mask. It is beautiful, it is bright, and it helps us get through the days when we feel too small in a world that seems to have many eyes on us?

Polish sociologist Zygmunt Bauman calls modern society a “liquid society,” where everything is fluid and uncertain. In such a world, people cling to consumption as a way to affirm: “I exist.” I have a fancy bag, I have a new phone, I have shoes like a famous singer, which means I am not invisible. But sadly, that recognition is often only momentary. After a beautiful photo is emptiness. After the compliments, there is a feeling of exhaustion from having to keep buying, keep chasing, keep maintaining one’s image from falling apart.

We live in a society where social media and advertising have taught us that if we are not beautiful, not classy, ​​not “tasteful”, we are not worthy of being heard, seen and remembered. Brands have become symbols of success. And so, people are willing to accept the fake, as long as it looks real. It is a painful compromise – between self-esteem and the desire for recognition. But what would happen if we stopped, looked at ourselves, and asked ourselves: “Would I still be me, without those things?” The question is simple, but can make us dizzy. Because sometimes, behind the brand shell is an entity that is too used to living by the eyes of others. We no longer eat to be full, wear to be warm, but eat to show off, dress to impress. We no longer live as ourselves but as the version that society wants us to become.

The psychology of brand loyalty, if not enlightened and understood, can lead us to a life of falsehood, chasing after illusions. Counterfeit goods may be cheap, but the price to pay for a borrowed identity is not cheap. Because once we let others define our worth through what we wear, we have given up the right to be ourselves.

And perhaps, the most courageous thing in this world of illusions is not to own expensive things, but to dare to live honestly, simply, without having to prove anything. Because then, we will realize: true value is not in the bag we carry, but in the way we walk, whether or not there is a famous logo beside us.

But if consumers are one side of the picture, the other side, the counterfeiters, also has a story worth pondering. Who are they? Are they just people who disregard morality for profit? Or are they people forced to exist in a system where authenticity leads to poverty, and counterfeiting leads to livelihood?

Many counterfeit factories are located in dark alleys in poor rural areas where people have few options. A young worker may be hired to assemble a “Chanel” bag without ever knowing what a real one looks like. They follow molds, models, orders from invisible middlemen. For them, it is work – a way to earn a living, feed their children, pay off their debts. They do not think much about the concept of “fake”, but only about today’s meal.

There are also those who run sophisticated, large-scale, and profitable counterfeiting chains. At that higher level, counterfeiting is no longer a matter of bread and butter, but a business strategy. They play on the psychology of consumers: wanting to be classy, ​​but not having enough money. Wanting to stand out, but not having enough prestige. And they offer a substitute that looks similar, is cheaper, and is easier to obtain. A silent but effective substitution. In a society where brands are a cover for dignity, counterfeiting is also a product of an imbalanced system. There, counterfeiters are not necessarily bad guys, they are people who contribute to maintaining a collective illusion in which, from the maker to the buyer, everyone is playing a role to live, to be recognized, or simply to survive. And don't forget that counterfeiters are often also consumers of other counterfeits. A worker assembling an "LV" bag in a factory may be wearing a pair of fake Nike shoes bought at a night market. A counterfeiter may be using a “hand-carried” phone with a foreign label but cheaply assembled components. The counterfeit spiral is a supply chain and also a psychological one, where the creator of the illusion is also the one living in that illusion. Because when the real value becomes a luxury, both the seller and the buyer are forced to look for an alternative version, even though they know it is not the truth.

We need a more balanced view: not just to criticize counterfeiters, but also to ask why they exist. Is it society that has created such a huge demand for counterfeits? And if we want to eradicate counterfeiting, we need not only laws but also changes in how we define success, beauty, and human worth.

Counterfeit goods are a material counterfeit. But more dangerously, they reflect a rift in the trust in true values ​​of both consumers and producers. To heal, we must start with the truth, by daring to live truthfully, do truthfully, and believe that the truth, even if it is not flashy, still has its own irreplaceable weight.