I have had a few strange jobs in my life, but none was stranger, than buying Louis Vuitton handbags for the Triads, and yes you did read that right, I said buy and not steal or make.
It is some time in the 1990s, I'm not sure when, and for various reasons it's a decade I don't remember too well, perhaps it has something to do with the amount of time I spent smoking a shit load of high grade Skunk weed and partying my ass off.
Anyway it's a fair chance that I was lying in bed stoned when I got the call from @bleepcoinsaying; "You should call The Belgian Count, he's doing something really interesting with some Chinese people, that I think you'll like."
Bleep knows me very well; and he knows that is exactly the kind of sentence I simply have to act upon.
The Belgian Count is a dear friend of ours; he is loosely connected to Belgian aristocracy, or he is Belgian aristocracy, I can never remember. Anyway, I make the phone call and he tells me the following:
Belgian Count
"....yeah so take your passport along, they'll give you some money and you just spend as much as you can, they'll give you 10% of whatever you spend."Cryptogee
"Bleeps said they're Chinese; they are Chinese right?"BC
"Yes."Cg
"Sweet, I'm going to be working for the Triads!"BC
"I don't think they're actually..."Cg
"Hey! If you want me to do this; they're Triads OK?BC
I don't particularly want you to do this; I just thought you...Cg
Can we stop overanalysing things, and talking about who wants who to do what; and just call them Triads please?BC
OK, have it your way, they're Triads, so don't fuck with them!Cg
Now you're talking...
I am standing in front of my full length mirror at home, I'm wearing my black Prada shoes, my grey Ted Baker suit, my purple Versace shirt and my long black coat, the coat isn't designer, but everyone always comments on how smart I look when I wear it. I have topped the look off with a gold watch that I bought for £10 on Church Street Market.As I stood looking at my reflection; I told myself that the watch was in fact one of those understated, terribly expensive watches, the kind of watch that you have to be really rich to even know the existence of the brand.I practiced standing in different positions, that would allow the watch to flash little glints of gold to the person I was talking to, it was very important to get it just right.If I revealed too much of the watch, then somebody who was used to seeing expensive watches on other people's wrists, would spot it was a fake and the whole charade would come tumbling down. However, the strap looked the business, and the black face, with the tiny fake baguettes were good enough to fool at a semi-obscured glance.The final touch to the outfit, was a pair of small round purple shades (this was the 1990s after all!), the problem with me wearing sunglasses, is that I am extremely short sighted. My eyes are -13 and -12, I believe the technical term is blind as a bat.I had also bought these sunglasses from Church Street Market the day before, and now I was wondering if the finishing touch, to my overall look, outweighed the fact that I couldn't see anything with the sunglasses on, especially if I was inside, and I planned on wearing them inside.I shrugged, I had bluffed being able to see many times before, being quite sporty and the kind of kid that older kids enjoyed fighting with, I had broken my glasses many times growing up. As a teenager, social exception is pretty high on your list of priorities, so pretending that I could see when I couldn't had become second nature to me.Right, time to go and meet the Triads.
I don't so much walk down the street, it is somewhere between a glide and a swagger; in my head I am running through a film script, which has me as the lead guy, the head honcho, the big cheese. I am gangster, I ooze cool, I feel every single millimetre of my 6 foot 4 inch frame, I notice heads turn as I glide pass, admiring looks from men and women as they wonder, who's that badass?The mood isn't broken, as I rendevouz with the 52 bus on Ladbroke Grove, I sit upstairs and look wistfully out the window, in my head I am in a limosine. Michael Corleone is next to me, he is consulting with me on how best to deal with the Triads, he's nervous, I tell him not to worry.
The bus rises up and over Notting Hill Gate, twisting down the long windy road of Kensington Church Street, meandering past the dimly lit antique shops, down through Kensington, past the bright glitz of the homogenised shops, you'll see in any major city.I pause the internal gangster film in my head, to wonder why some people get so excited about shopping in different cities. London, Paris, New York, Milan; surely they're all the same? How is Fendi, or Bulgari, or Prada, going to differ country by country? Surely they don't; so what's the thrill?I come to the conclusion it's boredom; a handbag must seem more exciting when you buy it in a city you're not used to. The Halo Effect clearly plays its part for international shopping.I snap myself out of my reverie, the bus has gone past the Royal Albert Hall on my right, and Hyde Park on my left. We are about to enter into the capillarious streets of Knightsbridge, that's my cue to get off.I am standing in front of a hotel that I can tell will make a super big deal about its Knightsbridge address, as this is clearly the only thing the place has going for it. It reminded me of the cheap hostel type hotels that are prominent in Bayswater, quite out of place in the more upmarket SW1 area. As I pushed the big gold and glass doors and walked past an empty reception desk, I wondered how much longer before somebody realised their mistake and knocked the place down.Ascending in the lift, checking my reflection; ach! It's too damn dark in here, I'll have to put my normal glasses on, that's fine, I don't need to get in character yet. I alight from the lift, I walk to the room, 306, I knock and the door opens almost immediately.The sight that greets me inside, is confirmation that I've done the right thing, the place is chocked full of Louis Vuiton handbags. There is a hive of activity as around 7 or 8 Chinese people are furtively packing the LV bags into boxes, they are shouting at each other in Mandarin.I can feel a huge grin creeping it's way onto my face, for now I supress it, the main guy approaches me, he smiles at me; he has terrible teeth, he is clearly in charge, he is the Chinese Boss.Chinese Boss
You the Belgian Count's friend yes?Cg
YesCB
Did he tell you what to do?Cg
Sort of, not really, no.CB
Ok, that's fine, it's easy, don't worry. Did you bring your passport?Cg
Uh, yeah, here it is.CB
OK, great, give me here, I'll go and copy, you speak to the accountant, he'll give you the money.I walked into the adjacent room, a smaller Chinese man, sat hunched over a large calculator, furiously punching in numbers. He too was speaking in Mandarin, at first I thought he had mistakenly thought I was one of his compatriots, until another Chinese voice emmanated from his open laptop, and I realised he was on Skype.The only other things on the desk, was a money counting machine and a huge pile of fifty pound notes; the accountant barely seemed to notice I was there. I took a small step forward and cleared my throat, he glanced up at me for about a fifth of a nanosecond.Accountant
Passport?Cg
Oh, um, your er...The Chinese Boss walked into the room, said something in Chinese and handed the Accountant my passport, who grabbed a bunch of 50s, put them into the money machine, took them out and handed me £1000, all without pausing his Skype conversation, or even looking at me.I walked back into the other room with the Chinese Boss, he handed me a photocopied piece of paper, on it there were pictures and prices of various Louis Vuitton bags and wallets.CB
Memerise these, only buy things on this list, if you buy something off the list by mistake, you won't get paid. You get 10% of anything you spend, if you spend that thousand, come back, we give you more.Well there you go, I am now buying Louis Vuitton for the Chinese; I mean the Triads, they have to be Triads, this only really works for me if they're Triads.
At this point, you might be wondering why anybody would want to pay me 10% of what I spend on Louis Vuitton handbags.You see, Louis Vuitton, at some point in their past; maybe right from the beginning, realised that if you are selling something that isn't essential to a person's continued survival. Then there's every chance they probably don't want your product, so you have to make them want it. More than that, you have to make them desire it, you have to put in their mind, that their lives will be immeasurably better, if they buy your product.This is the basis of all advertising; however Louis Vuitton have gone one step further, they actively restrict the purchasing of certain high-end products. They do this because they know, that when you tell people they can't have something, they tend to really, really want it.
The way Louis Vuitton restrict your purchasing is subtle, first of all, if you walk into an LV store, dressed in jeans and a T-shirt, unless you are famous, they won't sell you anything that costs more than about £150 ($200). If you do try and buy something that costs more than this, they will simply tell you they don't have it in stock.The second way they restrict your purchasing is that you can only buy a maximum of 3 items per month, you can't buy the same thing three times, they have to be different.When purchasing Louis Vuitton, you can't spend more than £200 ($263) in cash, so that they can track your purchases via your credit or debit card.Bearing this in mind, consider that Louis Vuitton comes out in Paris first, then London, New York, Milan and so on.The last places to receive the latest Louis Vuitton releases, are the furthest flung corners of the Southern Hemisphere. Sydney, Taiwan and Singapore.These places, especially Singapore, which is akin to a superstate and is one of the few places on Earth where there are more jobs than people. As a result of this, the population has its fair share of ladies who lunch, bored rich women, who don't want the social inconvenience of not having the latest LV bag, as soon as it hits the streets of Paris.That's where I and my Triad family (I was getting deep into the role) come in.
One of the joys of acting, is that you can experience what life would be like, from a perspective from which you would never usually experience. You are given your script and you are told who your character is, you take it away and you study the lines. Then it is time to try and work out the motivations of the person you are going to play; how they interact with others and how others view them.When you are trying to buy the most expensive products, in the highest volume, from a shop that is trying to stop you doing exactly that. Then you know that you are going to have to take on a certain persona, and that persona, I decided, was that of an arrogant Nigerian businessman, who lived in Manhattan and was used to life's luxuries.Hell, I even gave him an imaginary jet!What better script than life itself?In my head, I moved effortlessly from, mysterious London Gangster, doing a deal with the Triads, to chic hedge fund manager, used to the finer things in life.Walking down Sloane St. heart pounding, palms sweating....lines memorised... don't feel right... don't feel rich enough. It's OK, there's the LV store... calmI remember Jules from Pulp Fiction standing in front of a door, about to knock..."let's get into charachter...OK... back straight, shoulders back...breeeeeaaaaathhhhe...change your stride, how would a billionaire walk?That's right, not a care, sense of self satisfaction, the clothes on your back cost an average year's wage, life is great for you.It's working, normal people are glancing at me as I walk past, I can see them search their memories for recognition, I must be famous.I'm at the door now, a man in a liveried suit opens the door as I approach, I give him an almost imperceptible nod, and glide into the air-conditioned, boutique shop of Louis Vuitton, Sloane St.
I leave the shades on, my stance advertises to all, that I am a man who is used to having people rush to his aid, I do not look for assistance, because I know it will come to me. I exude a confident arrogance, whilst soft-gazing at no particular point in the shop, in my head, I have told myself, I will walk out if nobody comes to help me in the next 10 seconds.Five seconds later, I allow myself a slight inward, ironic smile, as I spy out of the corner of my eye; from behind my shades, a young Chinese assistant walking tentatively over to me. His body language tells me that he has bought my persona. He hunches slightly, whilst walking unsurely towards me, his hands clasped in front of him, we are playing the unspoken game, where he is staff, and I am the V.I.P. he has been charged with looking after.Got him!Sales Assistant
Can I help you sir?I pause for a second longer than necessary before I answer him, he's a full head shorter than me, I raise my chin slightly as I turn to him, literally looking down my nose at him. I allow the barest, flicker of disdain, to flash across my face, before smiling a thin smile and answering him.Cg
Ya, hi, my girlfriend said she wanted me to go Louis Vuitton and get her a bag, and I've forgotten the name, I think it was....At this point, I give him a couple of mangled names, of the bag I can clearly remember, in fact I can see it over his shoulder, sitting in a tall glass, display case. But I am playing ignorant, I am also trying to give the impression that I'm not used to shopping as someone else does that for me.He goes away to look for the bags he thinks it is; in a normal situation, I would follow him across the small store. However my character is arrogant, he waits, relaxed, still, barely acknowledging the sales assistant's efforts.After 3 separate trips to three different locations in the store, I realised I had been too good at mangling the name, so I decided to move things along.Cg
What's that over there?I said pointing to the (truly horrible) bag in the glass display cabinet by the window.SA
That''s the Vernis Stanton from our new collection, it just came out in Paris last week.Cg
Well, if I know Arrabella, it's probably the latest she wants, let me have a look at that one.SA
Certainly sir, and how will sir be paying?Cg
CashSA
Um, er... we don't..ah.My character turns round, giving him a look that is a mix of disdain and anger, the sales assistant, decides not to say what he was just about to and takes me over to the counter. He wraps the bag and hands it to my character, who flashes him a smile by way of a thank you, before turning and walking calmly out of the store.I didn't walk out of that shop, I glided, lubricated by a sheen of my own self-satisfaction, for a moment I was lost in the character, for a moment I really was headed back to my $2000 a night suite, to sip champagne in an ornate bath.
The next few days were a blur, I was easily their best buyer, they trusted me with more money than the others, because I always managed to get items that cost more than £200.The other buyers, who were mainly students, and more to the point looked like students, the poor kind, as opposed to the rich foreign exchange kind. These poor guys and gals didn't stand a chance, the LV staff were used to being condescended to, by people who were wealthier than them.So when people who were clearly poor came into the shop, this gave the assistants a rare opportunity to condescend to a customer.
No, we don't have that in stock; perhaps this is more you
I on the other hand, had no problem convincing them that I was the one who should be doing the condescending. However one morning, whilst buying a bag to order from Harrods, I let my aloof, arrogant, veneer, slip, just for microsecond mind you, but it was enough.
