Dangerous liaisons

MANILA, Philippines - Spotting a chair copy these days is no longer as heart-breaking a drama as, say, a Dries knit rehashed clumsily in a high street chain rack. Designers have a foresight, knowing the real provenance when a Prouvé is stripped of its honor, to end up not in a second-hand antique stall but simply “merchandized” from a line-batch of anonymous chairs because, well, shoppers simply can’t tell.

It is not wrong to desire a piece of design renown. It may not be from a well-known international designer. Nor an entire range purchased by whim and all at once. The majority simply want stuff to live with, produced with integrity, in human scale and durable material. One of the blisses of ignorance is not knowing one actually took home a Wegner Wishbone chair, later to be acknowledged by a design-savvy guest as a knock-off (without actually telling you, of course; no offense in your domicile).

Perhaps the widely produced Ghost chair in front of you is a copy: 1) from manufacturers with country regulations that do not uphold the same respect for copyrights as the developed world; 2) reproductions through “expired” patents; 3) same designers, different manufacturers; 4) an “homage,” more commonly called “inspiration”; or 5) often in odd proportions and substitute materials at a much lower price.

There is also a kind of counterfeit-design conscience that admits to the faults of copying — more common in our context where everyone is a “designer” (including my dentist, admitting to his patient seats that, alas, he designed, inspired by Philippe Starck) but really in a mythical sense — a DIY marketer-resourceful and with wide-ranging skill sets.

So in a world of over-sharing and loss of privacy where everyone is a designer, maybe in an obvious sense it’s wiser to invest in stuff that does not replicate easily, which involves real technique or crafting and is within your means; it may require going back to defining what luxury is, on a personal level. Like an hermitage (it needn’t be grand), with your own acquisitions. Perhaps one of the simplest ways to own your original is a bit of cautious shopping (and edutainment like the Phaidon Design Classics trilogy set app available on iTunes). Or, tag a left-brain confidante while shopping who can be on the lookout for you.

In slow fashion, shopping for the “must-have” (which is a moniker for most monthly guides to mindless consumption) increases risks of buying complete fakes — which, in the age of tap-app-research, can be avoided.