‘SHOPPING, BRUV?’ We’re in strict lockdown but January sales are going strong on Counterfeit Street
All non-essential shops were ordered closed when the country went into the third national lockdown earlier this month. But, on the notorious backstreets of the city centre’s northern outskirts, January sales are in full swing – for dealers in fakes and th
A POSSE of young men is huddled along a short but well-known stretch of Bury New Road in the Strangeways area, between town and Cheetham Hill.
It’s the place that’s been branded ‘Counterfeit Street’ – where you can buy fake designer gear for a fraction of the price of the real thing.
I park up, get out of my car and head towards the band of pedlarscum-spotters gathered on a street corner. They are chatting, looking at their phones. Some eye me up and down.
“Shopping, bruv?” asks the first to pounce. He appears convinced I’m neither police nor trading standards, or he doesn’t care.
I answer ‘yes’ and he heads up one of the side roads, beckoning me to follow.
“Times is hard,” he tells me as he walks, answering a question I hadn’t asked, namely: “Why are you still trading when non-essential shops were ordered to close as part of the latest lockdown?”
The young man leads me to a shop which appears to be closed until I hear the rattle of the shutters being raised.
Behind it is a flight of stairs. “Is it
OK if I put this on?” I ask, and on goes my mask. We climb the stairs and around a corner is an Aladdin’s Cave of clothes and trainers stuffed on shelves and piled up in the middle of the room.
There are no other customers here, which is just as well because the path around these goodies is wide enough for just one. Up another, smaller flight of stairs is another room also filled to the brim with clothes and trainers.
I tell the young man I’m after a pair of ‘Vans’ trainers for my daughter, but he shakes his head.
“What about a hoodie? I’ve got lots of hoodies,” he says, pawing at a rail of black jumpers.
After a bit of chat, I leave and head into another shop next door, ducking under the shutters and heading up another flight of stairs, to find these elusive ‘ Vans’. This place is bigger. This time there are other shoppers, a couple. Again, I can’t find the trainers I want. On my way out, I see a cabinet stuffed with large, shiny watches.
I walk by more small groups of young men who appear unconcerned about social distancing, and I ask some of them where I can get a pair of these sought-after trainers. They look at me suspiciously.
I head back onto Bury New Road and down another side street where another man invites me into his shop, up yet another flight of stairs. He’s confident. He shows me a few pairs: but I want them in black and size 4.5. I leave.
A small group of lads in the
street point me to another shop on the other side of Bury New Road and I head that way. As I approach, I can see the imposing perimeter wall of Strangeways prison.
I head down the side street, towards that huge wall, and I can see cars parked outside the shop and what appear to be shoppers loading up their new purchases. Another flight of stairs beckons, and another room stuffed with goodies. There are two members of staff here: a young lad with a mask and an older chap without. I ask about these Vans and there is some chatter in a language I don’t understand.
One scurries off into a back room. I spy a ‘North Face’ gilet on one of the racks and try it on. The genuine article would usually cost £180. A voice pipes up: “Twenty to you, mate.”
I joke that the last time I was down this end of town I was a teenager in the 80s and buying a pair of stonewashed jeans. The gag falls flat. I repeat it, but repetition in no way improves it. It prompts a forced smile. I’m about to explain that Stolen From Ivor was beyond the budget of schoolboy me when the man returns from the back with bad news: no Vans.
I get out my wallet and hand over £20 cash for the gilet: no receipt is offered or requested. Before I leave, I’m urged to try next door and head downstairs for those trainers.
I try next door and, despite the clear instructions, there are no stairs going down, only stairs going up. I’m invited up, my new ‘North Face’ gilet safely tucked
under my arm in a white plastic carrier bag.
Yes, I’m assured, we do have those ‘ Vans’, and to be fair the assistant hands over a pair of black ‘Vans’ size 4.5 which he tells he I can buy for £15. They normally cost around £60. I take a picture of them. I’m really after the Old Skool vans with the big platform, I say, and the deal is off. Moments later I’m back on Bury New Road and getting into my car with my purchase. It hasn’t yet been tested, but it’s clearly inauthentic, as were the ‘Vans’. Back in 2016, a government report concluded that Cheetham Hill was THE knock-off capital of the UK, a business so ingrained in our culture that none of the many police and trading standards raids which had gone before managed to snuff it out, despite dodgy goods worth millions being seized by the authorities. “It is indicative of the entrenched criminal culture of the area that the trade in counterfeit goods has continued despite regular enforcement action and highvolume seizures,” said the report. It added: “Cheetham Hill occupies a focal point in the UK market for counterfeit goods.”
On June 28, during the first lockdown, 28 Strangeways stores were closed down after being caught selling fake goods and flouting social distancing restrictions. They were given prohibition notices preventing customers from entering ‘for any reason’, following a police and trading standards operation.
In March, police seized a massive £7.5m-worth of fake goods during the biggest ever raid on the area. The haul – removed in two articulated lorries – included bogus YSL, North Face, Nike, Boss and Valentino clothing, plus cheap counterfeit perfume and aftershave.
We visited Strangeways on November 30 last year when the then rules obliged non-essential shops to remain shut. It was business as usual then just as it was when I went back on Thursday, January 7. Nothing has changed. Not even yet another national lockdown, which requires all nonessential shops to close, has halted the trade in fake designer gear down Bury New Road.
The genuine article would usually cost £180. A voice pipes up: ‘Twenty to you, mate’