Victoria Beckham has the largest collection of Hermes Birkin Bags. The most expensive at $1.5 mill.
The first issue is the priced point.Is this bag worth the $, and should anyone really be buying it or carrying it?When has luxury gone too far? When is the price too much? I have some very fancy bags myself and love them. I worked hard to get them, but I have to wonder could my money have been better spent?
This quote is from The Devil wears Prada by the male best friend:
“Fashion is not about utility. An accessory is merely a piece of iconography used to express individual identity.”
The second big issues with this beautiful bag, is EVERYONE wants one! The real Hermes Birkin bags have a waiting list......for years. Sign up now and you might have saved the money up by the time yours is ready. I keep thinking at least those amazing craftsmen have great job security.
The Hermes Factory, where all the magic hapens.
So these two issues together have created a massive quantity of fakes, inspired by's, and knock offs. Is it a crime to buy a fake? Is it smart to want to buy the cheapest version of the bag you want? Is it a sin for any fashanista to carry around a fake? I am torn. I see both sides. And all of these DIY Birkins have really inspired me, it almost makes it okay to have a fake. I buy cheap sneakers and bling them or paint them; to me it feels like that. It seems less dirty than just carrying a fake and pretending it is real, and you can afford it. This is not a Chanel for $3K, this is FREAKIN $10K bag we are talking about!
This is a fake that got glamorized, I love it!
Check out the brain behind this DIY Hermes @ leahandbliss.com
This one I will admit is cute, but it screams CHEAP. I love the rinestones on the metal trim though!! If I had a real Birkin, it would be orange and I would FOR SURE put rinestones on it (swaravski, and only on the metal hardware/lock)
Lady Gaga certinely thought it was a good idea to DIY her own REAL Birkin.
Now something new; Francesca Eastwood and her celebrity photographer Tyler Shields had a photo shoot revolving around destroying a Red Crock Hermes Birkin worth $100K. The photograph was almost expected in a way, because Tyler is known for this kind of artwork. They have both received a lot of negative press over, but there are those who like it.
For me the issue is: If I'm going to feel bad about carrying a Birkin, because it means I spent a lot of money that could have gone to a charity, I would feel AWFUL to just destroy one; unless it was in the name of charity. So now the question is, has art gone to far?
Bite the Birkin.
Death to Birkin, by chainsaw and flames.
This next Italic Portion is a section of the book "Everyone worth knowing" by Lauren Weisberger
"Oh. My. God. Will you fucking look at that?" she hissed.
I followed her gaze to a tall, lanky woman who was wearing a
very unremarkable pair of jeans and a basic black blazer. She had
sort of drab, brownish hair and a fairly mediocre body, and everything
about her seemed to say "average in every way." Elisa's excitement
seemed to indicate the woman was a celebrity, but she
didn't look the least bit familiar to me.
"Who is it?" I asked, leaning in conspiratorially. I didn't really
care, but thought I should.
"Not 'who,' 'what'!" she practically scream-whispered. She
hadn't yet moved her eyes from the woman.
"What?" I asked, still clueless.
"What do you mean, 'what? Are you kidding? Do you not see
it? Do you need glasses?" I thought she was mocking me, but she
reached into her oversized tote bag and pulled out a pair of wirerims.
"Here, put these on and check that out."
I continued to stare, clueless, until Elisa leaned in closer and
said, "Look. At. Her. Bag. Just try and tell me it's not the most gorgeous
thing you've ever seen."
My eyes went to the large leather bag the woman had nesting
in the crook of her elbow while she ordered her coffee. When it
came time to pay, she rested it on the counter, rooted through it,
and pulled out her wallet before returning the bag to her arm. Elisa
groaned audibly. It looked like any other bag to me, just bigger.
"Ohmigod, I can barely stand it, it's so amazing. It's the crocodile
Birkin. Rarest of them all."
"A what?" I asked. I briefly considered pretending to know
what she was talking about, but it felt like too much effort at that
point in the day.
She peered at me, examining my face as though she'd just remembered
that I was there. "You really don't know, do you?"
I shook my head.
She took a deep breath, sipped her coffee for strength, and
placed her hand on my forearm as if to say, Noiv listen closely because
I'm telling you the only piece of information you'll ever need
to know. "You've heard of Hermes, right?"
I nodded and saw a wave of relief wash over her face. "Sure.
My uncle wears their ties all the time.""Yes, well, much more important than their ties are their bags.
The first huge hit was the Kelly bag, named for Grace Kelly when
she began carrying it. But the really big one—about a thousand
times more prestigious—is the Birkin."
She looked at me expectantly and I murmured, "Mmm, it looks
lovely. Very nice bag."
Elisa sighed. "It sure is. That one's probably in the twentygrand
range. It's so worth it."
I inhaled so quickly that I swallowed wrong and actually
choked. "It's how much? You're joking. That's impossible! It's a
purse."
"It's not a purse, Bette, it's a way of life. I would pay that in a
heartbeat if I could just get my hands on one."
"I can't imagine people are lining up to spend that much on a
bag," I pointed out. Which, in my defense, sounded eminently logical
at that moment. I couldn't have known just how stupid I
sounded, but luckily Elisa was prepared to inform me.
"Christ, Bette, you really have no clue, do you? I didn't think
there was anyone left on the planet who wasn't at least on the list
for a Birkin. Put yourself on immediately and maybe—just
maybe—you'll get one in time to give your daughter one someday."
"My daughter? Twenty thousand dollars for a bag? You're kidding."
At this point Elisa collapsed in frustration and put her head
down on the table. "No, no, no," she moaned, as though in great
pain. "You just don't get it. It's not just a bag. It's a lifestyle. It's a
statement. It summarizes who you are as a person. It's a reason for
living."
I laughed at her melodrama. She bolted upright in her seat
again and began talking at a rapid-fire pace.
"I had a friend who fell into a horrible depression after her favorite
grandmother died and her boyfriend of three years broke up
with her. She couldn't eat, couldn't sleep, couldn't drag herself out
of bed. She got fired because she never showed up for work. Huge
bags under her eyes. Refused to see anyone. Never answered her
phone. When I finally showed up at her apartment after months of
this, she confided that she was considering suicide."
"How awful," I murmured, still racing to keep up with the
rapid subject change.
"Yeah, it was awful. But you know what got her through? I'd
stopped at the Hermes store on the way over to her apartment,
asked for an update . . . just in case. And you know what? I was
able to tell her when I got there that she was only eighteen months
away from her Birkin. Do you believe it? Eighteen months!"
"What did she say?" I asked.
"What do you think she said? She was ecstatic! The last time
she'd checked it was going to be five years, but they'd trained a
whole new crew of craftsmen and her name was due up in a year
and a half. She got in the shower that very moment and agreed to
go to lunch with me. That was six months ago. Since then she got
her job back and has another boyfriend. Don't you see? That Birkin
gave her a reason to live! You simply cannot kill yourself when
you're that close . . . it's just not an option."
So is a Birkin your friend or foe?
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