I’m truly not a bag person. When I state, bag, I mean purses, clutch, handbag–whatever you want to call them.
I don’t use them to provide a fashion statement. I don’t understand the reasoning. To me, it takes too much effort to transfer all the crap I have from one bag to another bag every time I want to match my outfit.
I counted the number of bags I have in my closet before I wrote this post. I have ten bags; most of which I don’t even use. However, there is one bag, in particular, that I use every fall and carry it over through winter. This is only because it cost me a pint of plasma (I have very rare blood), and about the cost of a 60 inch HD television.
I didn’t know this when I bought it because I was in Paris. I saw the price in euros and said, “Sure!” This was also after a few bottles of wine and walking with my husband hand in hand through the city of lights.
It was pure bliss–until I got the bill.
Oh, and one side note for the husbands out there. When you indicate to your significant other that their bag is too big, you’ll realize in hindsight it became extremely useful–to you–when you travel.
“Honey, can you put this map in your purse?”
“Honey, would you mind sticking this totem pole souvenir in your bag?”
“Sure. I’ll stick it in there for you.”
That’s what she said.
But, that’s not what this is about. This is about the bag; the purpose of my Lancel bag from Paris and it’s contents held therein. As I write this blog, I am officially emptying out one bag–which I bought at a French market in my hometown and only cost about thirty bucks; a steal. It served me well during the summer months and is hands free; meaning the strap shoulders across my body and if anyone wants to steal it they need to take me with them.
In the front flap of the bag I have a card to my health club and my Starbucks card–a must. I also have a splinter of wood and a rubber band. The splinter of wood is from my floor. I think I used this about six months ago to match the color of wood putty–which didn’t turn out so well. There is also my phone.
The main part of the bag is the most important aspect on why women buy bags in the first place–aside from its outward appearance. Women need an organized way to find all their stuff. I’m a two compartment gal. I like to divide my stuff up in two separate locations so I can grab stuff without fumbling through and eventually having something drop on the floor without me noticing; like a tampon with the packaging just about ripped open because it’s been in my bag for about two years.
The first compartment holds my gigantic wallet, which everyone now claims is on the verge of extinction.
I am not a hoarder, but there are just certain things that I can’t part with in life, and one of them is my red wallet–which just happens to match the color of my Parisian Lancel bag.
I have been judged, ridiculed, and the butt of jokes because of the size of my George Costanza wallet.
My best friend, Cindy, dared me to do a wallet cleansing. I’ve not only done a wallet cleansing since the infamous dare, but I’ve done other purges because of my husband’s unrelenting banter about the cards I keep in my wallet.
I have to keep reminding him that half of the cards in my wallet are cards he needs as well since they are rewards cards for restaurants where we frequently dine.
I have my regular credit card, my debit card, my other debit card for discretionary spending, a Pier 1 card which if I ever lose, someone is going to get some awesome reward points, my grocery card, four restaurant cards, an expired Costco card (I guess I can throw that one away), a Barnes and Noble card, my library card, a Victoria Secret card…what? Throw that one out.
There are two skydiving cards which I can also toss, a Nordstrom card which I hardly ever use, so I guess I can get rid of that one as well. Let’s not forget my driver’s license, insurance card, a Project Management Institute card that can be thrown out because my license expired last month, and my Cochlear cards to let airport security know I have metal in my head.
I feel better about this already! I’ve rid myself of several different cards!
The other compartment of my bag is where I keep all my medical and hygiene stuff. Two prescription pill bottles, an EpiPen in case I get stung–again–by a bee (My husband would like to see my throat close up so I would just shut the hell up, but he needs me around to clean up the dog hair in the house). I have hand lotion, a small hair brush in those rare cases I straighten my hair and actually use it to look somewhat like a woman rather than a Neanderthal who just got pulled by her hair, and a small zip bag that contains small stuff like hand sanitizer, lip balm and other lip accouterments–most of which have probably expired or melted. I should toss those, but they’re too expensive. I have to keep them and risk getting cancer of the upper and/or lower lip.
I lucked out on this thirty dollar bag and got a zipped outer compartment. This is where I keep all my stuff for my high-tech hearing like my Cochlear remote, batteries–oh, and a small packet of Kleenex, pad of paper, keys which I rarely use but dare not throw away because one of these days, I’ll need them for something, and a packet of some garlic seasoning from a wine tasting event we went to. I’m tossing the garlic seasoning in the trash. If that sucker ever breaks open into my expensive red leather bag, I’ll be passing people on the street as they make a comment of, “Is there an Italian restaurant around here? All of a sudden, I have a craving for garlic bread.”
At the bottom of my purse are expired coupons from April. They’re ripped in half or rolled up in a small ball. As much as I try to keep coupons organized, I can never do it. Don’t even suggest that I bring an index card box or even an accordion file to the store. I can hardly remember to bring my recyclable bags. Even if I shove them in my wallet so I wouldn’t forget to give them to the cashier, they eventually get lost in between all the freaking cards I have.
This is what I don’t understand: I just listed all of the contents of my bag–which I need on a daily basis–and yet, I see women walking around with these little purses that can only fit a hamster and a stick of Chap-stick. Whatever they are doing with a hamster in their bag is their issue, not mine.
When I read about the realization that the wallet is going by the wayside, I get scared. I don’t know if I’m ready to divorce my wallet. Shit, it took me forever to graduate to a debit card and tossing my checks.