Ten thousand dollars. That’s about how much money I’ve spent on handbags. At least. I’d probably find it closer to twelve thousand (or more) if I went through receipts.
Purses!
Leather and zippers and buttons and canvas and logos. Pockets and patches and invisible microchips to confirm authenticity. Bulky orange boxes from boutiques that can’t store said handbags- something about low air circulation drying out leather and making it prematurely crack, like aged skin without a rich night cream. Instead, they hold Christmas lights and occupy various cupboards and closets in my tiny Brooklyn apartment.
Bags!
Designer logos in enamel and gold. Gold because it’s on-trend, and I like the look of gold jewelry against my skin- I have warm undertones. Or olive- who even knows?
Gold logos and gold hardware, but gold-tone metal, since luxury brands stopped real-gold-plating the hardware for their bags. Even though they continued to raise their prices- why stop? Just because you haven’t increased quality? Psh- you are a luxury house! Excessive pricing is your right; you must exercise it.
Purses!
Crossbody bags and clutches, little satchels and top handle bags that always make me feel like a “Fancy Lady” when I carry them because elegant women can walk around holding their purse just by a small handle, without fear of theft or loss, or general clumsiness. A big Speedy 30, my first Louis Vuitton that I sometimes cart out but is genuinely NOT a practical bag if you are not a suburban mother or corporate woman driving to her office where her computer stays at her desk- and I am neither of those people.
Bags!
Of which I find myself having too many. All are sitting at the top of my coat closet, each in its little dust bag, waiting to go out on the town.
Purses!
To be fair, I wear them, and I’m not precious about them. They get used, and they bring me joy. But some more than others. To be sure, before each purchase, I envisioned how I’d wear each bag. With what outfit, to which event or restaurant, and with whom. How the weather would be, what mood I would have. And yet- several of these purses remain in their dustbags, woefully unworn.
Bags!
Each represents the pursuit of satisfaction and fulfillment- the thrill of the hunt for a rare piece or a deal and the quick dopamine hit of swiping that credit card or hitting “Buy Now.”
Purses!
In a twelve thousand dollar pile, staring me in the face, forcing me to accept that I was probably happiest after that third purchase.
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So I was thinking...