Discovering the dark secrets of the black market

NEW YORK: Strolling down Canal Street in Chinatown I can easily spot the counterfeit sellers on the street. Some are young Chinese females, and many are Senegalese men. They don't even have to speak as they hold laminated cards printed with pictures of designer bags.

At the intersection of Canal and Broadway, the heart of Manhattan's Chinatown, any interest shown in a card will attract a flock of sellers who will descend on you like pigeons on a bread crumb pile. The sellers appear bold, but they are very careful of what they say to potential customers as police watch their every move.

"How much is this Gucci bag?" I asked one young female seller when she handed a piece of paper to me. "Fifty dollars," she answered, showing one of her hands with five fingers spread out to emphasize it is 50 not 15.

"Where were they made? Do you have a factory here?" I inquired.

"No, no!" she looked at me suspiciously and hurried away. Just half a block away, a Senegalese seller asked a female customer if she was "a lady cop" when she asked similar questions. Police have reportedly been sending in female police as pretend buyers, then fining the sellers.

Walking further down Canal, I tried to make eye contact with the sellers on the street, indicating that I was interested. Another young female seller approached me right away. They do not waste time with idle chit-chat.

"Designer bags?" she asked, getting straight to the point.

"Do you have Gucci bags?" I replied.

"We have everything," she shot back.

"Where are they then?" I asked.

"Follow me."

The woman led me into a small shopping mall that sold mostly electronic goods. As I followed her deep into the mall, I started to wonder where I would be taken until we hit the last store. The woman seller spoke in Cantonese to a Chinese man who at the same time was talking into a walkie-talkie. The man opened a small door hidden in one wall.

To look at the designer knock-offs required a trip to the upstairs stockroom. I hesitated for a short while, then went up. The door was shut quickly behind me as I climbed up the narrow and steep stairs. It was dark. I reached a small stockroom with low ceilings that smelled like plastic and leather.

After browsing the room, I picked up a rather authentic-looking red Hermes bag that was going for $150. The seller proudly showed me the serial number on the inside of a strap on the bag. "No one would even know this is fake," he added.

"Was it made in China?" I asked.

"Yes, made in China," he said. "You tell me what else is not made in China now?"

But any questions raise suspicion among the seller, and after I casually asked how business was after last year's police raid, he didn't seem as interested in my business.

"You want a bag or not?" the seller huffed and waved his hands, ready to show me the door. As I walked down to the legitimate store, an American mother and daughter were led to the door to the stock room.

"We won't go in there," the mother said nervously as she saw the steep stairs in the darkness. "It's OK. You go in if you want to see the bags," the male seller downstairs persuaded.

The two went in. The door was shut quickly.

In the sunlight outside the shopping mall, I realized what I saw in the dark and low-ceiling stockroom seemed surreal.

(China Daily 08/03/2009 page8)