My journey into the fun house of fakes began, as so many things do these days, on TikTok. Like many men, I had been content carrying a tote bag or backpack. Then my algorithm introduced me to Love Luxury, a designer consignment store offering previously owned Hermès bags. This wasn’t about saving money, exactly. A Birkin with a retail price of around $12,000 — already an egregious amount of money — could be resold for twice or three times its original price.

I found the extreme wealth both revolting and fascinating. I gobbled up clips of people playing the so-called Hermès Game — in which Birkin seekers tithe tens of thousands of dollars to Hermès boutiques in the hope that they might be offered the chance to buy one of their sought-after bags. My TikTok For You page soon became nothing but unboxings and reviews of other luxury brands, including Chanel, Dior, Bottega Veneta and Loewe. I began to lust after these designer goods, imagining which ones were right for me.

Except that I am not rich, and neither are my parents or anybody I am likely to date. Besides, surely such sums would be better spent on the deposit for a house. But the overwhelming deluge of bag content made me desperate for the luxury my lackluster bank balance would never permit.

Then my algorithm served me up handbag dupes and replicas, imported from China. Buying them felt like an act of rebellion against the luxury brands that help enforce class division.

But I couldn’t stop. Buying dupe after dupe quickly became a destabilizing obsession — on account of platforms that incentivize everything but stopping.

When I came across a video about the now-viral Walmart Birkin — or Wirkin — I saw a way to participate in a world that had enthralled me. While we don’t have Walmart in Britain, I found one on an online marketplace called OnBuy. I bought it for $61. It took nearly a month to arrive from China. When it did, I was delighted. I doubted it was anything close to an authentic Birkin, but it was soft and smelled like real leather, not plastic. I took it out that night to meet friends, showing it off like a child with a new toy. They passed it around, surprised by how luxe it felt and giggling over the idea that I was now cosplaying as an überwealthy fashionista. Carrying this bag allowed me to escape into the fantasy of unachievable wealth. I felt like someone who no longer struggled to pay the rent.