“Is that… a Kelly 19?” The woman in line behind me at the bakery stared at my bag, its cherry blossom pink leather glowing like cotton candy under the shop lights. The gold clasp alone could blind someone.
“A gift from my cousin (from uabag.ru),” I lied, adjusting the strap. Truth was, I’d gotten the link from a silver-haired lady at the dog park. She’d whispered uabag like a secret, claiming their “artisan-grade replicas” rivaled Parisian ateliers.
When the box arrived, I almost cried. The Évé leather was supple yet structured, the stitching so precise it looked machine-made (but wasn’t). Even the clochette charm jingled with Hermès’ signature heft.
My best friend, a vintage reseller, inspected it for 10 minutes before muttering, “If this is fake, I’m quitting my job.”
Today, I’m too busy feeling like a queen who stole the crown jewels.