I admit it. I have a problem. Well, more than one, actually, but the one I’m currently lamenting is my bag problem. Handbags. The beautifully crafted, gorgeously adorned, luxuriously soft, carry-able pieces of art, handbags!
Big one, little ones, zippered ones, metallic ones, short-handled ones…I love them all! What is it about handbags that dazzle me so much?
Some women lust after Brad Pitt, Chris Hemsworth, Patrick Dempsey, and Johnny Depp. My gears get grinding over the names Coach, Dooney, Louis Vuitton, Michael Kors, and Tori Burch.
I take comfort in the fact that I’m not alone. I have two friends in particular that are as obsessed as I am. We instantly notice when we have a new one. We have to touch it, look inside it, talk about it, and, wows a, if we got a deal on it! Too exciting! One of these friends talked me into the beauty that is the wristlet. How I now love those little mini-bag adornments, with their tiny zippers and little pockets!
But I digress.
Unlike anything else in my life, I yearn for the expensive ones most. The bags with the names. The designer bags that have zeroes in their three digit price tag.
I don’t give a poot about status. I drive a Mazda. My house is decorated with stuff from TJ Maxx. My last pair of pants cost $20.
And yet, I must, MUST buy those handbags.
Where did I get this obsession? My mom isn’t like this, even though she loves her handbags, too. She calls them pocketbooks. I’ve tried to get her on the designer bag train, and she said “but I could have six pocketbooks for what you paid for that one.” Well played, Mom. Well played.
When I analyze it, there are a few realizations that come to light about my love of handbags.
#1: I can carry them no matter what. If I gain a few pounds, the bag still fits. If I’m bloated, my handbag isn’t tight. Nary a handbag has ever disappointed me by refusing to button around my pizza-thickened waist. They are steadfast fashion statements, regardless if I’m dressed to the nines, or running to the store in my pajamas because I must have a candy bar righthisveryminute.
#2: It has all my stuff in it. A handbag is a personal treasure chest of important stuff like lipstick, contact cases, sunglasses, and Tylenol. All those vital necessities would be scattered to the wind, neglected and forgotten, without a handbag.
#3: They just make me happy. I can feel blue and look at my lovely new, buttery yellow Coach bag with matching wallet, and know that everything is going to be o.k. I can have a fat day and gaze upon my UT orange Dooney and Burke bag and have the good sense to eat a salad. They keep me sane.
Well, as sane as I get, anyway.
So, if you have a handbag fixation, just know I understand. And it’s perfectly fine.
Even if the bag costs more money than you will ever carry in it.
It’s worth it!
Susansbigchickchat Blog 