Tips for Authenticating Louis Vuitton Multicolore

I am going to try something a little different with this post. I’m not a beauty or fashion blogger, nor do I plan to become one. I don’t want to disappoint long-time readers who follow this blog to read about the Foreign Service and overseas life/travel, or attract new followers looking for fashion topics that I will likely never talk about again. But I can’t see creating my own YouTube channel to make just one video on this topic, and I really want to write about it. So I thought I would make an exception to regular topics and do a one-off post on one of my favorite things: the discontinued Louis Vuitton Multicolore collection of handbags and accessories, and how to spot a fake. (I want to emphasize that I do not in any way wish to be insensitive to the financial and social strain we are facing right now by discussing this topic, nor to ignore the fact that during the global pandemic handbags are not a priority for anyone, including me. I simply enjoy researching this bit of nostalgia, and it interests me and cheers me up. So for the niche audience who would enjoy it or benefit from it, I would like to share what I have learned as a mini-escape from the other things I have to do. If it comes across more superficially, please know that is not my intention.)

My interest in this topic might be surprising, as I’m not much for shopping and generally dislike pop culture. But acquiring a few items for my Multicolore collection has been a longtime dream, and when I eventually did so, I realized there was a real gap in reliable information on how to spot a fake. So I decided I wanted to share some very specific layperson tips on how consumers – if so inclined – can purchase authentic Multicolore items. Consumer education can help avoid money lost to fraud, and it can help informed consumers stop underwriting the unethical and exploitative labor practices of the transnational crime syndicates that benefit from counterfeit sales.

(Regular readers who are not interested in this, please bear with me, and we’ll get back to business as usual with my next post! It is a very niche topic on an already niche blog, and it will not offend me if you give this one a pass. But you never know… it might still be interesting!)

Six Years Later, the Answer is Still Yes

After waiting on the register for almost a year and five months, it was on this day in 2014 that I received “the call” to join the U.S. Foreign Service. In other words, I was invited to become a diplomat. It was my favorite Cinco de Mayo ever, and one of the most exciting days of my life. Accepting the offer marked the end of my three-year quest for the professional opportunity of a lifetime – my chance to be a part of the 178th Generalist A-100 Class at the Foreign Service Institute (FSI) in Arlington – and the beginning of a whole new career and lifestyle. Finally, my candidacy had been successful and I was in! The last six years haven’t been perfect, but given the chance, I’d do it all again.

Postcard Flashback: Our Only Visitor to Uzbekistan

During my first tour in Tashkent, Uzbekistan, we only had one visitor – my mom. She came to visit in August 2016 and although I mentioned it twice (here and here) and shared a handful of photos before we then jetted off to Budapest and Moscow together, I never followed up with the promised travelogue about her visit. Since it’s been almost four years, some details have now faded, and there are hundreds of pictures that are hard to choose between. However, thanks to really good Facebook photo captions I made at the time, everything she went through to get there, and my ongoing belief that I could have done a better job showing more about Uzbekistan during my tour, I decided it was now or never to make this post.

Isolation, Day 43

The coronavirus pandemic has much of the country and the world stuck at home, and everyone is coping the best way they know how. For me, it is a mere worry and an inconvenience, as we were supposed to leave for our next assignment in Mexico last Saturday and now our departure date is unknown. For others, it is unbelievable fear, grief, and stress. This makes me feel both grateful and ashamed for my safe place to live, job, and food security. Although I am scared for my parents in their 70s and my nana in her 90s, and I myself am at higher than average risk for contracting the virus and developing life-threatening complications if I catch it, I have taken extreme precautions to keep this from happening. This of course is afforded by the many privileges I have, not least of all the ability to telework. I cannot equate my experience in isolation with the actual danger and trauma that millions of others are experiencing. And so I won’t.

Isolation, Day 32

Yesterday we passed the one month mark since we self-isolated in our Arlington, VA apartment to try and hide from the coronavirus. During that time, I have taken two walks for fresh air, sat outside my building once for 15 minutes, walked one time to the post office wearing a mask, and drove two miles to DC for blood tests at my rheumatologist’s practice – where I was the only patient.

For me, it hasn’t been enough; today on the third day of severe sciatica pain and back spasms, it became clear to me that I need to get more exercise, immediately. Being sequestered for weeks in a tiny apartment like an astronaut on a spaceship is not a normal condition for a human being. But on the other hand, maintaining social distance from other people in such an urban hot spot has to take precedence for V and I, who are both at higher risk to catch the coronavirus. My immune-compromised status has sufficiently scared us to just stay in the apartment, but the consequences of that for weeks or months on end are also undesirable. And so last night I was very pleased to discover on my 90-minute test walk (that I began just after 10 p.m.) that while others can have the sunny spring days, the nights are all mine.

Breaking the Ice

Today was the 17th straight day of isolation inside our apartment. Two days ago, V broke his streak with a grocery run so epic, it took us almost two hours to wipe down and sanitize all of the items one by one with Lysol wipes, get rid of extraneous cardboard packaging, and soak all the fruit and vegetables in warm soapy water with just a hint of bleach. Today, I transitioned from social isolation to social distancing by going for a two-mile walk in the urban jungle of Arlington, VA.

Isolation, Day 13

Since we drove home on March 16 from Glen Allen, VA and our failed attempt to participate in Foreign Affairs Counterthreat (FACT) training, we have been sequestered in our apartment. I took the trash out once to the chute in the hallway, combined with one trip to check the mail. Another day I went to my car to take a scan of my registration card. And once I sat outside for 10 minutes under the night sky waiting for an ice cream delivery. That means I have been out of the apartment for a cumulative total of less than 25 minutes over the course of the last 18,720 minutes, or 312 hours, or 13 days.

V has dumped the trash and recycling and checked the mail a few times, and collected ~ I think ~ three Seamless/Door Dash takeaway deliveries. (Coming back into the apartment necessitates a tedious process of hand washing, using Lysol on our keys and the doorknob, changing clothes, etc., especially after we found out this week that someone in our building is infected with the coronavirus and is still in and out of common areas to walk her dog. We are also following the grocery and takeout container cleaning protocol outlined in this doctor’s YouTube video.)

Other than that, we have been enjoying the solitude, teleworking, having some laughs, fretting about our move, talking and FaceTiming with people, and trying to find the end of Netflix.

Postcard Flashback: Peace Corps Volunteers Can Always Go Home Again

I have written about my experience as a Peace Corps Volunteer (PCV) in the Republic of Macedonia (2002-2004) on this blog on quite a few occasions. In particular, I’ve written about departing for service, my own challenges with resiliency, how I initially struggled to learn the Macedonian language, excerpts from letters I sent home, the intense joys of getting a washing machine in my village, and even some things I was later grateful for about working at Peace Corps Headquarters (2010-2014). And of course, Peace Corps’ difficult and historic decision to evacuate all PCVs worldwide and suspend its operations earlier this month.

However, this post isn’t about any of those things. It’s about the heartbreak of losing your home when you finish your service unexpectedly, and the joy of one day getting it back. When a PCV says goodbye to their service, no matter the circumstances, it is a loss. But later you come to realize that the home you created during Peace Corps is never truly gone. It will welcome you with open arms for the rest of your life. So this post is in honor of the 7K+ evacuees tonight.

Life on Pause

Regardless of personal circumstances, life for most of the world has become stranger and more disconcerting by the day. When things will return to normal, no one knows. For me, it isn’t the staying home that is so odd, because I stay home a lot and as an introvert, guilt-free time alone is always welcome (although I’d gladly trade it for this pandemic to not exist).

On one hand, about a month out from a planned permanent change of station (PCS) move, it feels like there is a lot more I should be doing than laying around and watching films. Given the uncertainty, though, I’ve become OK with a certain amount of paralysis and have given myself a pass to do what I can, without a lot of expectations about how it all turns out. I don’t feel like I need to be busy every moment, or even justify why I feel that way. Priorities have come down to the basics. Suddenly time – arguably the most precious resource I have had during my adult working life – has become drawn out and surreal.

Strange Times

The past week has been one of the strangest and most fluid in recent memory. We had a national emergency, a roller coaster stock market, travel restrictions, and the World Health Organization declared a global health pandemic. We even got in a full moon, time change, and a Friday the 13th for good measure. But it wasn’t just strange in an abstract way; witnessing panic-buying behavior and empty store shelves, coupled with news of school closures and rippling nationwide event cancellations drove the potential catastrophic impact uncomfortably close to home for many.

Area Studies: Mexico (ASWHA7006)

During this past week, I was in the State Department’s Mexico area studies course put on by the Bureau of Western Hemisphere Affairs (WHA) at the Foreign Service Institute (FSI). It was similar to the two week Russia/Eurasia course I did in 2014 while preparing for my assignment to Uzbekistan. Most area studies classes at FSI are regionally-focused, but the complexity, depth, and breadth of the U.S.-Mexico bilateral relationship means Mexico has its own dedicated course, and it was both useful and fun. Narcotics, crime, migration, American Citizen Services emergencies, difficulties in determining citizenship, film, art, culture, indigenous issues, trade, mariachi bands, and tacos – what else do you want?

Spanish (LQB100): Week 21

This past week of Spanish has been the most arduous for me yet. We have less than a month to go in our 24-week program, by which time we must earn a 3/3 on the End of Training test (EOT) – with the numbers indicating levels of speaking and reading, respectively – in order to go to our foreign assignments. Our instructors and learning consultants are hitting us with so many assignments and activities at once it has made my head spin. The workload and intensity have jumped dramatically in the fourth and final phase. But the instructors aren’t torturing us to be mean. They want us all to make that steep climb to success in the short time remaining. And for that, we have to be constantly reading, talking extemporaneously, and stuffing ourselves full of as much español as humanly possible.

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