The dusty air hung heavy in my room on a tranquil Saturday evening as I and my friends discussed our attire for the impending seminar of the final-year students of the Department of Aquaculture.
“Kushy, do you know where I can buy good formal shoes?” Gift inquired.
“Of course! You know I attended Mitchell's wedding last year and I had to buy nice designer shoes, even at an unbelievably low price”
Collins arched an eyebrow, with a smirk dancing on his lips. “It's funny how you mention low price and designers in the same sentence, you probably bought a fake.”
“I know a fake fashion item when I see one. Either the logo is different from the original or the names are purposely spelled wrong to avoid lawsuits. For example, Adidas might be spelled as Abidas, A-b-i-d-a-s.”
Gift’s eyes rolled skyward, raising his palms in mock surrender, “Alright, alright, expert fashionista” he drawled, “What's the name of the shoes and how much did you buy it?”
“It’s Ferragamo and I got it for just 5000 naira. You must have heard Wizkid and other celebrities mention it in…”
“wait, wait, wait, you bought a pair of designer leather shoes for just 5000 naira? And you think it's not fake?” Collins interjected.
“I am telling you, I was even surprised and I checked the name like ten times, it's Ferragamo,” I replied, my cheeks burning under their relentless laughter.
I let them bask in the glory of their smug certainty while I planned on how I would prove them wrong and have the last laugh.
"Just wait," I said, a smirk playing on my lips as their laughter subsided. "I will bring the shoes next week when I return from my parents’ house”
A day before the seminar, I went over to my parents' house to get the shoes. “I can't wait to see the look on their faces when they finally see it,” I laughed maniacally as I searched through my wardrobe.
I finally brought out the shoes but immediately, my heart clawed at my ribs, not from nerves, but from dread. “what's going on here?” I asked as if expecting a response from the shoes.
One of the shoes was looking different, its once-immaculate surface marred by wrinkles and cracks. “How am I even doing to explain this to those guys?”, I choked out, sinking onto the bed, their mocking laughter echoing in my ears.
I decided not to think much about it as I packed the shoes into my bag, vowing to concoct a convincing story to explain the situation to my friends.
The next day, I was in my room getting ready for the seminar when Gift walked in, his presence filling the room like a mischievous genie.
“star boy! See as you're looking very sharp,” he said, sliding onto my desk after gently moving some books. His gaze caught the shoes across the room.
"Are those our designer shoes?" He leapt up, snatching a pair. "The peeling python!" he roared, the air splitting with his laughter, a symphony of snorts and guffaws that bounced off the walls.
“I think it's because I dumped them in my wardrobe for over a year.”
“I see,” Gift replied, wiping tears from his eyes as he kept examining the shoe as if looking for something.
“What did you say was the name of these shoes again?”
I turned towards him, realizing he was examining the shoe's underside where the name was written “You are seeing Ferragamo there and you're still asking”
Another series of laughter erupted which was starting to get on my nerves. He tossed the shoe aside and whipped out his phone, his fingers flying across the screen with focused determination. I patiently waited to see what he was up to.
“Ferragamo's official website," he announced, extending the phone towards me. "Take a look.”
“and so?”
“Compare this," he said, "to the name under your shoes.”
My eyes ping-ponged between the shoe and his phone a couple of times. Finally, the truth revealed itself, undeniable and unwelcome.
“ah, I can see you have finally realized what is going on,” Gift said, a hint of amusement dancing in his eyes. “Now, can you pronounce what is written under your shoes?”
“Ferragamo,” I mumbled, frustration creeping into my voice.
“What was that? I didn't hear it clearly”
“FANEGOMO!” I shouted
A wave of infectious laughter erupted from Gift, throwing him to the floor. He clutched his stomach, gasping between roars as tears ran down his face. “Fanegomo, the distant cousin of Ferragamo!”
Collins, Gift’s roommate arrived from the room opposite mine, probably drawn by the cacophony. Soon, my room echoed with their combined laughter, a joyous chorus mocking my misfortune while I retreated to my bed, sinking into a sea of self-loathing.
In my defense, the font on the shoes was diabolically confusing and it's very easy to mistake it for the original. I don't even know if it's “Farregomo” or “Fanegomo” but I could have noticed it earlier if I had paid close attention to it.
To this day, “Ferragamo” has become a trigger word, eliciting a fresh wave of laughter whenever mentioned, acting as a constant reminder of my gullibility.
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