I’m Kayla, and I play a lot. Church gigs. Bar gigs. Two weddings last fall. I love Les Pauls. Thick neck. Big voice. Warm, like cocoa in a mug. So when I found a “Gibson Les Paul Standard” on Facebook Marketplace last summer, I jumped.
It looked right from far away. Tobacco burst. Cream binding. Open-book headstock. The price was lower than a real one, but not “too good,” you know? It was just low enough to feel like a deal. And I fell for it.
The day I got fooled
We met in a Target parking lot. Red carts, hot pavement, my stomach doing little flips. I brought a small practice amp, a Boss Katana Mini. The seller let me plug in. The guitar sounded… fine. Not amazing. But loud enough to drown my doubt.
I checked the serial number. It was stamped and it “worked” on a quick look. The neck felt a bit dry. The tuners were gritty. But my hands wanted it to be real. Isn’t that wild? Your ears go, “Hmm,” but your heart goes, “Yes, please.”
I handed over cash. I went home with a fake Gibson. If I had paused to cross-check the hardware against the photo guides on PrettyFakes, I probably would have walked away before handing over a single bill. Later I found a story from another player who went through the same heartbreak—they bought a Gibson that wasn’t and broke it all down in detail.
How it played (the real truth)
I set it up that night. New strings. A little truss rod tweak. I use a Snark tuner and a cheap feeler gauge from the hardware store. It took work, but the action came down. Chords rang okay through my Fender Blues Junior.
But the voice wasn’t right. Les Pauls have this push. A round punch. This one had a scoop. Like the mids took a lunch break. The bridge pickup was shrill, and the neck pickup got muddy fast. I kept rolling the tone knob trying to find the sweet spot. It never showed up.
Balance on a strap felt off, too. The body weight was weird—heavy in the wrong way. And the finish? It was glossy, but it didn’t smell like nitro. Real Gibsons have a faint sweet smell that sticks in the case. This one smelled like plastic and a hint of nail polish remover. Not kidding.
Small clues that screamed “fake”
After two days, the mask slipped. Here’s what I saw up close:
- Headstock shape: the “open-book” curve was a touch too fat on one side. Hard to see from far away, easy to see next to my real Studio.
- Logo: the “Gibson” inlay had rough edges. The dot over the “i” sat a hair too close to the b.
- Truss rod cover: three screws. Most Gibsons have two. Mine had three—like an Epiphone.
- Binding: no little “nibs” at the fret ends. Many Gibsons have tiny binding bumps over the fret edges. These were shaved flat.
- Fretwork: sharp fret ends. They bit my hand when I slid down to the 3rd fret.
- Pickup cavities: the routes were sloppy and the paint inside was thick and sticky. Real ones look cleaner.
- Pots and switch: no CTS or Switchcraft parts. Cheap minis with no clear codes.
- Hardware: the gold on the bridge started to fade after two rehearsals. Real plating holds up better.
- Serial stamp: it looked laser-etched and too neat; the “Made in USA” font was off. Like a photocopy of the real thing.
You know what? The case was the biggest tell. It came with a heavy black case, but the handle felt flimsy and the plush lining shed fuzz onto the guitar. Real Gibson cases feel sturdy and smell like new car seats and glue.
If you want a concise checklist of these tells, this Pro Music News guide on spotting fake Gibson guitars breaks them down with clear photos and side-by-side comparisons.
Two more fakes I met (and what they taught me)
I wish that was the only one. It wasn’t.
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The White Custom: A friend brought over an “Alpine White” Les Paul Custom with gold hardware. It was pretty. On stage lights, it looked legit. But the inlays were dull and slightly gray. The “Custom” split-diamond on the headstock was crooked by a whisper. The back plate screws stripped on the first turn. Sound? Scooped mids again. And the gold rubbed off the tailpiece after one night at a club with sweaty air.
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The “Gibson” SG: I tried an SG at a pawn shop. The horn bevels looked chunky, like someone carved them fast. The neck joint was weird—thick and square. I strummed a G chord and the whole guitar buzzed. Not fret buzz—body buzz. Like the studs weren’t set tight in the wood. The store tag said “Gibson style.” That word “style” matters a lot.
But did it play music?
Yes. I used the fake Les Paul for a Sunday set once. I played soft stuff—“Oceans,” a slow hymn—in drop D. With a compressor pedal and a little reverb, it sat in the mix okay. Folks heard music. No one booed. My drummer said, “New guitar? Looks nice.”
Still, I kept fighting the tone. I rode the volume knob the whole time. I kept missing that rich center that a real Gibson gives without trying. I was working way too hard.
I don’t support fakes. Here’s why
- It hurts the builders. Real craftspeople get paid for real work.
- It hurts buyers. Resale turns into a mess. Trust gets thin.
- It hurts safety. Cheap wiring can fail, and sharp frets can cut skin. I had two little slices on my index finger after one long practice.
Fake identity isn’t just a guitar problem; it shows up everywhere, especially in the online dating scene where catfishing is the relationship equivalent of a knock-off headstock. If you’d rather meet people whose profiles actually match who they are, head over to SPDate where real-profile verification and intent filters save you from wasting time on copy-and-paste accounts and let you focus on genuine connections. Additionally, gigging players who roll into Decatur after a late show and want to arrange some low-pressure, no-strings-attached company can browse the local bulletin at OneNightAffair’s Backpage Decatur where every listing is pre-screened, letting you skip the spam and connect with real people fast.
Counterfeits don’t just harm musicians—they erode whole industries. Here are six brands that fought fakes with trademarks and actually won, proving that legal pressure can make a real dent in the problem.
I didn’t return mine. That seller vanished. I chalked it up as a hard lesson and kept the guitar as a “don’t do that again” reminder. I put bright tape inside the case: “FAKE—DO NOT SELL.”
How I check guitars now (simple, fast, and fair)
- Serial check: I use the brand’s serial tools and I call customer support if anything feels off. Photos help.
- Weight check: I bring a luggage scale. A typical Les Paul Standard sits in the 9-pound range, give or take. Very light or oddly heavy makes me pause.
- Two-screw truss rod cover: if it has three on a “Gibson,” I slow down and ask questions.
- Binding and nibs: smooth edges, clean lines, tiny nibs on many models.
- Parts: I look for Switchcraft, CTS, or clear part codes. Cheap minis? Red flag.
- Headstock logo: crisp inlay, right font, no weird spacing.
- Smell and feel: real nitro has a soft, sweet smell. Poly can smell sharp. Neck finish should feel smooth, not sticky.
- Case and paperwork: proper case, right fit, clean badge, and paperwork that matches the serial.
I’m also keeping an eye on newer tech like NFC chips embedded in headstocks—this hands-on test of NFC anti-counterfeiting shows how a quick phone tap can confirm authenticity before you ever plug in.
If I buy used, I like trusted shops. Reverb and local stores that stand behind gear with returns. I also bring a friend. Two sets of eyes beat one hopeful heart.
A small twist: can a fake be “usable”?
Yes, sometimes. If a tech dresses the frets, swaps the pickups, and re-solders the harness with good wire, it can be okay as a beater. I tested this with mine. I dropped in a set of used Seymour Duncans, put in CTS pots and an Orange Drop cap, and had my tech file the nut. It got better—way better. Still not a Gibson.