Counterfeit

by Kirstin Chen

are as many sweatshops in Italy as there are state-of-the-art facilities in China.)

A bag is a bag is a bag, but only a Birkin is a Birkin.

I see what I couldn’t as a child: to share one’s secrets is to force others to bear your burden; to stay silent is to spare them.

Look, I’m thirty-seven years old and, I’m sure we can all agree, way past being able to credibly blame my parents for who I am today. But that, I think, is the point. I’d never really grown up.

way. Winnie loved Boss Mak—Ava has never doubted that—but she loved America more. This was where she belonged, with the weirdest of the weird and the boldest of the bold. Winnie’s the one who showed Ava her country for what it truly is: a wildfire, a head-on collision, a spooked horse that’s thrown off its rider, a motherfucking driverless car. It’s the only place for freaks like them, hucksters, con men, unicorns, queens. Winnie is the American dream, and that’s what drives everyone mad, mad, mad—that she had the gall to crash their game and win it all.