That’s My Bag, Baby!

Some women like shoes. Others prefer jewelry. I happen to be a bag lady. I prefer a new handbag to almost any other item of fashion.

Over the years, my affinity for handbags has, both admittedly and somewhat ashamedly, become more expensive, but I continue to search for the holy grail. Every time I get a new one I feel like I have found The Bag, the only one I will ever want. That is until next season’s collection arrives on the shelves, and I find myself lusting after some newer, better version of what I already have.

So you can imagine my surprise this season when finding the perfect bag proved to be a futile effort. Apparently the bag I got for winter is the bag I’ve been searching for all along. This has me wondering: what happens when you find the perfect version of whatever it is you’re searching for?

Perfection is supposed to be unattainable, and those of us who manage to find some version of it often find it maddening. I’m sure I will get another bag (probably sooner than I’d like to admit). But for now I am content with what I have, and I have to say the feeling is a bit unsettling.

Fashion Week officially ends tomorrow, and I promise that all posting dealing with aspects of fashion will cease. I don’t think about it that much, and as I said before, I should probably leave it to those who are more adept and cutting edge than I. Once the new collections are on the racks, I solemnly promise to return to the rambling thoughts that normally pervade my page.


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