Manhattan is full of panhandlers; if you've ever walked down Canal Street you can clearly vouch for this statement. Usually though, the realistic fakes are hidden behind a door, down an alley, past the hanging chickens, up a dark stairwell- three knocks and a whistle later you'll find yourself a Pucci purse for a 1/4 of the real thing. While walking through Herald Square last weekend my afternoon stroll was interrupted by a block worth of bag thieves and a gaggle of tourists aiding them in breaking the law. Purses were sprawled out all over sheets on the side of 6th avenue; the unassuming travelers didn't stand a chance. Who can pass up a counterfeit handbag that has been massaged with the scent of car emissions and splashed with the omnipresent trash juice of New York City? A housewife from Iowa surely cannot.
A housewife from Iowa...true story.
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