The $3,500 question.
So this afternoon, I walked along London's New Bond Street towards the Cartier store. To my shame I had to admit I was slightly nervous. I say 'to my shame,' because I don't often get nervous, and to be nervous over something so frivolous is just unneccesary. Nonetheless, my anxiety about the outcome was not because of the financial value of the watch - but rather because I don't like being taken for a fool. I cannot imagine anything more foolish than being given a broken imitation watch and then catching the train all the way into London to have it authenticated at the Cartier store only to be told that it is a fake.
Actually, that is a lie - there is something worse - being conned by my friend's apparent generosity. Who was I to think that he would just casually have a broken Cartier watch lying around? Who was I to think that he would just give it to me? who was I indeed?
More pertinently, how would I be able to look him in the eye the next time I saw him, knowing that he had make me feel a fool?
So there I am walking along New Bond Street, my life suddenly so much more complicated because of a gift. A simple gift.
In this moment I learn about myself. I recognise Greed, I recognise Vanity and also Pride. My own cynicism reveals my own ghetto mentality. The watch just has to be a fake because that is the cycnical South London ghetto world I live in. And that is the ghetto mentality I have.
Right or wrong my cynicism is there. But for all the cynicism in the world there is always logic. And it is simple logic that is choosing my destiny today.
I need to know the facts.
So I walk to the Cartier store, a security guard open the door and I step inside. I falter for a moment unable to recognise how it works - there is one woman serving a seated customer, but no obvious products to browse. Minimal displays rest behind glass, nothing that catches my eye. I cannot pretend to be interested in any of it so I pull out my mobile and instead pretend to check a text message.
This buys me time. There are two seemingly empty smaller rooms towards the rear of the store, but beyond the dark wood and glass the shop is surprisingly bare. Cautiously I step towards the rear and in one of the rooms I find a man sitting at a desk,
"Can I help you?" Comes a pleasant French accent.
"I hope so, but this could be potentially very embarrassing."
"Excellent. Please sit down."
I do and then begin the story.
Actually, that is a lie - there is something worse - being conned by my friend's apparent generosity. Who was I to think that he would just casually have a broken Cartier watch lying around? Who was I to think that he would just give it to me? who was I indeed?
More pertinently, how would I be able to look him in the eye the next time I saw him, knowing that he had make me feel a fool?
So there I am walking along New Bond Street, my life suddenly so much more complicated because of a gift. A simple gift.
In this moment I learn about myself. I recognise Greed, I recognise Vanity and also Pride. My own cynicism reveals my own ghetto mentality. The watch just has to be a fake because that is the cycnical South London ghetto world I live in. And that is the ghetto mentality I have.
Right or wrong my cynicism is there. But for all the cynicism in the world there is always logic. And it is simple logic that is choosing my destiny today.
I need to know the facts.
So I walk to the Cartier store, a security guard open the door and I step inside. I falter for a moment unable to recognise how it works - there is one woman serving a seated customer, but no obvious products to browse. Minimal displays rest behind glass, nothing that catches my eye. I cannot pretend to be interested in any of it so I pull out my mobile and instead pretend to check a text message.
This buys me time. There are two seemingly empty smaller rooms towards the rear of the store, but beyond the dark wood and glass the shop is surprisingly bare. Cautiously I step towards the rear and in one of the rooms I find a man sitting at a desk,
"Can I help you?" Comes a pleasant French accent.
"I hope so, but this could be potentially very embarrassing."
"Excellent. Please sit down."
I do and then begin the story.
posted by Doom/Blondie at Saturday, March 04, 2006
4 Comments:
Porn the watch .. Make the film !
But that's just me all over ..
Trust me, it's crossed my mind - but I wouldn't get nearly enough. To do this film properly I will need £8,000 - £10,000.
Any ideas?
(oh yeah - ministry of sound want more video pitches - their budget is a paltry £1,000. Cos it is an open call they get 100 of replies. It's a toughie. I can;t NOT respond but statistically it is a waste of time)
Blondie,
I am curious to know what he said. I think this was a really great post of self reflection. Although at first I wondered about your doubt I think in the end I would be thinking..Why would someone just give away a 3500 pound watch? I hope your jaw is well lubed.
The Value of a Cartier Santos is £2,000 or $3,500.
Lube my jaw?
That's disgusting.
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