I’ll admit I’m a bit of a “wanna be”. I’m a sucker for designer goods and don’t quite have the budget to buy all of the things that I would like, so occasionally I convince myself to purchase a “dupe”.
They’re not difficult to find nowadays.
But I’ve noticed something. The way I feel when I wear or use the item that isn’t real is completely different. Why is that?
Right now I have a piece of jewelry that looks similar to one from a much higher-end brand. I have four handbags. Two pairs of shoes.
But in clothing, none.
Oops, wrong, I have a pair of shorts.
I spotted these fabulous shorts from Frankie Shop on Instagram and wanted them so badly, but they were all sold out. My impatience sent me straight to reverse image search, where I found a dupe on Amazon for a fraction of the price.
Of course I ordered them.
I wore them a couple times and tried to make them work the same way the real ones would have, but they felt inferior. The quality just wasn’t there. They were fine, but I realize my taste isn’t really ok with fine.
Then I received an email from Frankie Shop: the shorts were back in stock!
I ordered them.
I’m obsessed with them and would probably wear them every day if I could.
So now I have the shorts I actually wanted - and the dupe.
And while I did wear the dupe a few times, it cost me money too. Instead of saving money, I spent more money and ended up owning two things instead of the one thing I really wanted.
That’s the true cost of the dupe.
And yet, apparently I haven’t completely learned my lesson.
Right now I’m going back and forth about a pair of shoes I purchased because I knew the real thing was unattainable. When I wear them, I feel a little bit like I have a secret I don’t want people to know.
I’ve thought of getting rid of them for that reason, but I am struggling.
They are such amazing shoes.
Does it matter that they aren’t real?
My son has a distinct opinion about this. He says copying a designer isn’t ok and he won’t participate in wearing a dupe. He has tremendous respect for creators and designers and would rather support the person who came up with the idea than the company that copied it.
I agree with him.
And yet, sometimes my desire outweighs my ethics.
That’s uncomfortable to admit.
And maybe that discomfort is telling me something.
What exactly am I trying to satisfy when I buy the dupe?
Is it the unique design? The quality? The label? The status? The feeling? Or am I trying to temporarily become the woman I imagine wearing the original?
Maybe the solution isn’t finding a better dupe. Maybe I need to get better at waiting.
So I’m working on it.
I’m placing items in my shopping cart and walking away. I’m making a list of items I want and letting it sit there without immediately fulfilling it. If I still want those things by Christmas, I’ll put them on my wish list.
But something interesting is happening.
The want often disappears surprisingly quickly.
And then, of course, another item comes along to take its place.
Which has me wondering if the thing I’m chasing isn’t really the handbag, the shoes or the shorts at all.
Maybe I just get excited about something new.
And there’s nothing wrong with that.
Maybe I just don’t have to buy it.