Hunger for luxury brands grows ravenously

I call it my gangsta watch. When I strut down the street, even a legally blind man can make out the big, bold numbers on the crystal face, surrounded by rings of 24-karat gold. It's bling-on-a-stick and status with a capital R.

Does it bother me that this Swiss timepiece needs to be wound up every day? Is it highway robbery when something breaks and the repair bill costs a week's salary? Isn't my battery powered Timex with the glow-in-the-dark hands more functional?

Yes to all the above. And, sure, I'd switch watches if I lived in Okeefanokie, Nebraska - population 537.