I must admit that any actual optimism I still contain is often diluted with equal parts delusion.
Even though I've been hyper-aware of .... well... hype as it relates to imagined needs and manufactured wants, I still fall for it. Marketing is brilliant in its strategic appeals - and there's plenty of psychology behind their strategy. Adding your own neuroses is encouraged but not mandatory.
The implicit promise of a coveted object is that by having one of your own, your life will be improved in some way. Perhaps others will covet that same object, and your social capital will rise. Maybe having the newest version of the hottest brand will help to broadcast your hipness and serve as a natural deterrent to the decidedly unhip. Or even this whopper: buying this possession will improve my relationship with things I already have.
My number one vice falls squarely in this third category: purses, handbags, satchels, clutches, shoulder bags etc. It being 2 am and I don't want to wake the household, but I am sorely tempted to trot out the whole sordid collection, photograph it in its shameful entirety, and give a detailed explanation of exactly what I was thinking would change in my world if I used this container to organize the detritus of my daily life.
There's the Healthy Back Bag, which I bought 10 years ago prior to our honeymoon as a carry-on and all-purpose adventure bag for wandering from Rome to Istanbul. It promised ergonomic design, adjustability, and a clever array of pockets arranged to make your load lighter. So of course I order the biggest one, overstuff it, and never quite love rooting around in the bottom of it, where all things eventually migrate and hide. Gravity occurs, even in the highly engineered land o' luggage.
While in Istanbul I purchased a number of purses and satchels, ostensibly for gifts. Also, because in the Grand Bazaar these darling merchants stalk you as you're looking at their wares, readily flicking their lighters to the various straps and such, to prove they are "real leather". This lost its appeal as I got lost and couldn't find Bob and was cornered by many enthusiastic shopkeepers and started buying purses in self-defense. The kilim bag I bought for my mom was fabulous, a great find for her, and I really wanted one for myself although it seemed like too much of a splurge. But instead, I bought several cheap knockoffs that together added up to nearly the amount of the One I Really Wanted, which has now assumed mythic proportions. The bags for gifts didn't look good enough to give, by the time I got them home. Not all of them are, in fact, leather. And I can't tell you the last time I used one. They sit in the corner of my closet, silently mocking me.
Then there are the purses ethnic and/or artsy. Mostly admired for their lovely and unusual design. Never intended to be everyday objects of usefulness, they get trotted out once a year or so - for some reason I have a 1950's vestigal sense of fashion that compels me to attempt to match my handbag when I'm "all dressed up." Which occurs slightly more often than the JCPenney White Sale, but not by much. I have used a few of the bags as catch-alls, but they rapidly get scuffed/unraveled/de-strapped, at which point they migrate towards my moldering pile of Stuff That Needs a Quick Sewing Repair.
The Vera Bradley phase was next, and represents a period I'm not particularly proud of... Her fabrics are lovely and the designs well done, but the durability just isn't there. Although there are a zillion equally non-lasting matching accessories which make the purse more valuable than any of the stuff secreted in all that quilted goodness. Other major turn off: sporting your hip new seasonal bag and seeing the same one on the arm of octagenarians en route to the Early Bird at Denny's. (In marketing lingo, it appeals "across demographics.")
My recent acquisitions are Tumi (is there a plural I should be using here?) One is a lovely, sturdy, reasonably-sized messenger bag, with all sorts of neat nooks and crannies for everything. Too many choices! I could never consistently put things in the correctly proportioned pockets for maximum utility and security. Generally this resulted in my leaving the grocery store with my credit card in full view, a gaping maw of cash I didn't have time to store, keys too securely fastened to get to in a reasonable time frame while standing in the rain with grocery bags melting, and several pairs of lost sunglasses. The other Tumi is a tote bag with similar features, but also the mandatory water bottle holder and the slightly less useful audio port for the IPod Shuffle that I can't find because I stuffed too much crap in the bag, all those necessities getting heavy enough that I began to have the alarming habit of putting it down and just walking away - dizzy with the sudden weightlessness.
Then there are the purses bought a vacation souvenirs (my own and others') that I just can't seem to part with, even though they haven't been vaguely useful or in style for some time.
Right now I have no less than 3 purses and a briefcase in circulation, and am constantly switching back and forth because the one that's ready to go is somehow unequal to the present task. No wonder I can't find my keys.
This rant serves to get me fired up to clean out the collection and give a pile of useless bags away. Really! If it's not beautiful or useful...
Although, I might find one of those cleverly constructed purse organization inserts quite handy...
Even though I've been hyper-aware of .... well... hype as it relates to imagined needs and manufactured wants, I still fall for it. Marketing is brilliant in its strategic appeals - and there's plenty of psychology behind their strategy. Adding your own neuroses is encouraged but not mandatory.
The implicit promise of a coveted object is that by having one of your own, your life will be improved in some way. Perhaps others will covet that same object, and your social capital will rise. Maybe having the newest version of the hottest brand will help to broadcast your hipness and serve as a natural deterrent to the decidedly unhip. Or even this whopper: buying this possession will improve my relationship with things I already have.
My number one vice falls squarely in this third category: purses, handbags, satchels, clutches, shoulder bags etc. It being 2 am and I don't want to wake the household, but I am sorely tempted to trot out the whole sordid collection, photograph it in its shameful entirety, and give a detailed explanation of exactly what I was thinking would change in my world if I used this container to organize the detritus of my daily life.
There's the Healthy Back Bag, which I bought 10 years ago prior to our honeymoon as a carry-on and all-purpose adventure bag for wandering from Rome to Istanbul. It promised ergonomic design, adjustability, and a clever array of pockets arranged to make your load lighter. So of course I order the biggest one, overstuff it, and never quite love rooting around in the bottom of it, where all things eventually migrate and hide. Gravity occurs, even in the highly engineered land o' luggage.
While in Istanbul I purchased a number of purses and satchels, ostensibly for gifts. Also, because in the Grand Bazaar these darling merchants stalk you as you're looking at their wares, readily flicking their lighters to the various straps and such, to prove they are "real leather". This lost its appeal as I got lost and couldn't find Bob and was cornered by many enthusiastic shopkeepers and started buying purses in self-defense. The kilim bag I bought for my mom was fabulous, a great find for her, and I really wanted one for myself although it seemed like too much of a splurge. But instead, I bought several cheap knockoffs that together added up to nearly the amount of the One I Really Wanted, which has now assumed mythic proportions. The bags for gifts didn't look good enough to give, by the time I got them home. Not all of them are, in fact, leather. And I can't tell you the last time I used one. They sit in the corner of my closet, silently mocking me.
Then there are the purses ethnic and/or artsy. Mostly admired for their lovely and unusual design. Never intended to be everyday objects of usefulness, they get trotted out once a year or so - for some reason I have a 1950's vestigal sense of fashion that compels me to attempt to match my handbag when I'm "all dressed up." Which occurs slightly more often than the JCPenney White Sale, but not by much. I have used a few of the bags as catch-alls, but they rapidly get scuffed/unraveled/de-strapped, at which point they migrate towards my moldering pile of Stuff That Needs a Quick Sewing Repair.
The Vera Bradley phase was next, and represents a period I'm not particularly proud of... Her fabrics are lovely and the designs well done, but the durability just isn't there. Although there are a zillion equally non-lasting matching accessories which make the purse more valuable than any of the stuff secreted in all that quilted goodness. Other major turn off: sporting your hip new seasonal bag and seeing the same one on the arm of octagenarians en route to the Early Bird at Denny's. (In marketing lingo, it appeals "across demographics.")
My recent acquisitions are Tumi (is there a plural I should be using here?) One is a lovely, sturdy, reasonably-sized messenger bag, with all sorts of neat nooks and crannies for everything. Too many choices! I could never consistently put things in the correctly proportioned pockets for maximum utility and security. Generally this resulted in my leaving the grocery store with my credit card in full view, a gaping maw of cash I didn't have time to store, keys too securely fastened to get to in a reasonable time frame while standing in the rain with grocery bags melting, and several pairs of lost sunglasses. The other Tumi is a tote bag with similar features, but also the mandatory water bottle holder and the slightly less useful audio port for the IPod Shuffle that I can't find because I stuffed too much crap in the bag, all those necessities getting heavy enough that I began to have the alarming habit of putting it down and just walking away - dizzy with the sudden weightlessness.
Then there are the purses bought a vacation souvenirs (my own and others') that I just can't seem to part with, even though they haven't been vaguely useful or in style for some time.
Right now I have no less than 3 purses and a briefcase in circulation, and am constantly switching back and forth because the one that's ready to go is somehow unequal to the present task. No wonder I can't find my keys.
This rant serves to get me fired up to clean out the collection and give a pile of useless bags away. Really! If it's not beautiful or useful...
Although, I might find one of those cleverly constructed purse organization inserts quite handy...
I really would have liked to see a picture of all your purses. I have no idea of what kind of purses you write.
ReplyDeleteHowever, enjoyed all you write.
Yes, love, you are the consumate shopper. Did you learn from aunt Rita??
Did you whittle down the purse collection?
I have 2 purses, one summer & one winter.
However, I do not live in a dense retail area.