Housemate L and I went to Selfridges the other day, to solve a MAJOR shoe issue. On our way up, we (she) noticed (got completely distracted by) some nice (AMAZING) handbags. They say a woman's bag reflects her personality. Well, I don't think of myself as cheap, but despite my terribly 'rich' character (...), a £1530,- Prada bag is way out of my league I'm afraid. Imagining women spending these amounts of money on 'just a bag', reminded me of my personal handbag history.
For a long time I didn't own, let alone, use a proper handbag. My backpack could easily carry my laptop, school books and lunch, and my keys and wallet felt at home in my coat's pockets. Shopping bags where tied onto the back of my bike, and my phone tucked away in my jeans. Simple, yet effective.
I remember former housemate R looking at me in despair, when she found out about my handbag poverty. "You are no woman without wearing a handbag and perfume!", being her grim response. She'd been a faithful handbag-user for as long as she remembered. Moreover, she'd even worked in a bags shop, which had provided her with more knowledge and authority on this sensitive subject than I would ever experience. So I knew this was serious. I mean, we're talking matriarchy here.
As I reconsidered her judgement, I also realized my 'daily' perfume had lasted me for over 3 years now, with no signs of running out any time soon. The bottle obviously didn't hold 2 liters of fragrance and as far as I was concerned, I wasn't following any Maja calendars lately. Clearly, I was doing something wrong.
She was determined to find me a suitable bag ever since. So I started to pay attention, trying to investigate the wonders of the world of women's handbags. What was I missing? And more important, why? With R as my exquisite example, everything slowly started to fall into place. Basically, there was only one simple rule:
Never, ever, go anywhere without your bag.
When we went grocery shopping for example, it was of high command she brought her bag with her. Because let's face it, who on earth could possibly leave the house for 5 minutes without carrying a phone, wallet and keys, accompanied by a few 'just-in-case' extra's. Cigarettes, spare cigarettes, a lighter, a spare lighter ('always carry two, you never know who's asking'), lip balm, chewing gum, chewing gum wrappers, deodorant, perfume ('no this isn't my daily perfume'; it's my 'bag perfume' for on the go), 'female stuff', a diary, a notebook, a pencil case, a pair of glasses, a case for glasses, sunglasses ('I don't care it's raining), a hand mirror, tweezers ('what?'), a hair brush, hair ties, red lipgloss, hand cream, a bottle of water, headphones, some wipes, an extra pen, a nut bar, written post-its, blank post-its, and of course, an extra bag for groceries. I know, the thought alone is unbearable.
So eventually, I got myself a handbag. And I carry it around like a baby. Not sure if it makes me feel more feminine, but at least it's a nice shoulder exercise and I don't lose my keys anymore. But spending £1530,- on a Prada bag (already sold-out online), must be an exclusive privilege for advanced users only. A privilege my bank account thanks me for not having.
Yet.
I remember former housemate R looking at me in despair, when she found out about my handbag poverty. "You are no woman without wearing a handbag and perfume!", being her grim response. She'd been a faithful handbag-user for as long as she remembered. Moreover, she'd even worked in a bags shop, which had provided her with more knowledge and authority on this sensitive subject than I would ever experience. So I knew this was serious. I mean, we're talking matriarchy here.
As I reconsidered her judgement, I also realized my 'daily' perfume had lasted me for over 3 years now, with no signs of running out any time soon. The bottle obviously didn't hold 2 liters of fragrance and as far as I was concerned, I wasn't following any Maja calendars lately. Clearly, I was doing something wrong.
She was determined to find me a suitable bag ever since. So I started to pay attention, trying to investigate the wonders of the world of women's handbags. What was I missing? And more important, why? With R as my exquisite example, everything slowly started to fall into place. Basically, there was only one simple rule:
Never, ever, go anywhere without your bag.
When we went grocery shopping for example, it was of high command she brought her bag with her. Because let's face it, who on earth could possibly leave the house for 5 minutes without carrying a phone, wallet and keys, accompanied by a few 'just-in-case' extra's. Cigarettes, spare cigarettes, a lighter, a spare lighter ('always carry two, you never know who's asking'), lip balm, chewing gum, chewing gum wrappers, deodorant, perfume ('no this isn't my daily perfume'; it's my 'bag perfume' for on the go), 'female stuff', a diary, a notebook, a pencil case, a pair of glasses, a case for glasses, sunglasses ('I don't care it's raining), a hand mirror, tweezers ('what?'), a hair brush, hair ties, red lipgloss, hand cream, a bottle of water, headphones, some wipes, an extra pen, a nut bar, written post-its, blank post-its, and of course, an extra bag for groceries. I know, the thought alone is unbearable.
So eventually, I got myself a handbag. And I carry it around like a baby. Not sure if it makes me feel more feminine, but at least it's a nice shoulder exercise and I don't lose my keys anymore. But spending £1530,- on a Prada bag (already sold-out online), must be an exclusive privilege for advanced users only. A privilege my bank account thanks me for not having.
Yet.
I would suggest a pocket ashtray as well for the list..No more cigarette litter on the streets :-)!
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