So I’m off to purchase a new pocketbook. This is serious business for a woman in my age bracket . I’ve noticed that I am now incapable of leaving the house without my pocketbook in tow. I’ve tried. A small handbag droops sadly on a doorknob; it can’t compete with this lovely but aging monster that holds everything I can’t seem to live without. Wallet, of course. Packed with numbered cards that control my life. Old fashioned address book. (You never know when a forgotten number might not have made it into your phone). Contact case. Manicure scissors and file. Kleenex, Tylenol, miniature map of New York City. Masks and hand wipes. Dental floss, bandaids, breath mints. Crossword puzzles and note pad with lists, current and past. Lip balm and lotion. Ancient receipts. Pepcid, in case I can’t resist the Bourbon Bacon Burger at Wendy’s. Best burger ever, and well worth the aftereffects.
Whatever the reason, when I leave home, it all goes with me. My friends seem to have the same affliction. In fact, sometimes we pick up the wrong handbag. They look so much alike. That can be a disorienting disaster, although it’s usually discovered before we go very far. “Wait! Where are my car keys?”
At any rate, I’m in Marshall’s on a mission to find the perfect black leather bag that will hold all this stuff. And all I can see on this plethora of handbags is the name ”Steve Madden”. Who does this man think he is? Wasn’t he incarcerated for some sort of SEC violation? Why must he ruin so many great bags with his name? Does he get a thrill by wandering around Marshall’s, reading his name over and over? If I spot him, I’ll tell him just what I think of this megalomaniacal behavior. But I don’t. He must be cruising in a different Marshall’s today. And suddenly there it is – the perfect size and shape, blissfully unlabeled by Steve. Supple and softly black. It’s one of a kind and the price is right. I will make it mine.
So we journey home together. With a wave of nostalgia, I empty my frayed and forlorn friend of many years, and welcome my 100% genuine leather pocketbook into its new home. Now to get rid of any extraneous items and decrease its burden. I guess maybe I could dispense with the map of New York City, but you never know when you might need one, after all. Better throw it in just in case.
