Sacks and drugs.

You want to talk addictions? Drugs, you knew. But sacks — handbags, purses — are the next frontier. Every day, another sweet-faced gal gets addicted to some high-priced pocketbook she can't afford. Pretty soon, she's jonesing so badly for Prada she's willing to break the law.

She buys a counterfeit.

Here in my town, New York, tourists trek to the black-market Mecca that is Chinatown to buy their illegal goods. Just the other day, there was a huge bust there — exactly like a drug bust. The mayor held a news conference to announce a seizure of $1 million worth of fake sunglasses, watches and purses. "What are you going to do with them now?" a reporter asked.

"You want to buy some?" the mayor replied.

I'd swear I saw some heads nod.

Look, if there's $1 million of fake goods stashed in one dingy little mall, you know that, just like crack, there's plenty more where that came from. I've heard of Tupperware-type parties across America at which mild-mannered ladies take orders for the contraband. Nationally, counterfeiting is a multibillion-dollar business.

That means loads lost in tax revenues, of course. And smuggling. And organized crime. But somehow even more galling is that the companies that have worked hardest to make names for themselves are the ones most likely to have those names ripped off. Some brands have been counterfeited so prodigiously even the real McCoy looks fake. I see a lady with a Hermès scarf, and unless it's Carla Bruni, I just assume she got it for 10 bucks.

"Counterfeiting has been with us for hundreds of years," an attorney who works with Rolex, Brian Brokate, said. "But the mid-1980s is when the American consumers began to have a real thirst for branded goods, luxury goods." That's when counterfeiters turned their attention to the new coin of the realm: labels.

Today, Brokate said, "Each new brand that comes of age is going to have a counterfeit problem at some point.

It's not a passing fad."

No, the fad part seems to be the new attitude shoppers have toward buying these knockoffs. Any shame seems to have been replaced by glee.

"You get sort of a double punch," said consumer anthropologist Robbie Blinkoff. "It's like, 'I wouldn't be caught dead with a Louis Vuitton because I'm not actually a Louis Vuitton person. I'm a Louis Vuitton person who's smarter than that.'" I buy Louis Vuitton knockoffs.

Irony, elitism, hipster-ism, penny pincher-ism — they're all rolled into one. And what they're rolled into happens to look pretty nifty.

"The fakes used to just slap the name Prada on whatever," said Patricia Handschiegel, West Coast editor of StyleHive. "But now they actually make the bags look like the ones in the collection."

Knockoffs have gotten so good I met a customer in the flagship Gucci store on Fifth Avenue who buys fake and real Guccis almost indiscriminately. "I just like them," she said. Though, she warned, "If you wear a knockoff, the handles start fraying."

Around us, the shelves were gleaming with non-fraying bags costing thousands of bucks. Some were heartbreakingly beautiful, but plenty looked just like the ones on the street. In fact, it almost looked as if Gucci was counterfeiting Gucci, stamping its name on every possible surface — even a gym bag.

Take a step back and it's hard not to wonder why a Gucci label means so much, real or fake. It seems crazy to pay $3,000 for a satchel but also crazy to buy a knockoff and then either pretend you're filthy rich or laugh at the filthy rich people who give your fake label its cachet.

And so, fashionistas, it is time for a little label-addiction rehab. Stay legal; stay solvent. Shop Target.

Lenore Skenazy is a columnist at The New York Sun and Advertising Age. To find out more about Lenore Skenazy (lskenazy@yahoo.com) and read features by other Creators Syndicate writers and cartoonists, visit the Creators Syndicate Web page at www.creators.com.

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