Eulogy for a Handbag

A little over three years ago I was invited to a designer knockoff party by a woman I worked with. I’m not typically a designer junkie, but I saw a purple number that I fell in love with. At $75. I bought it.



I took this bag all over. So many pockets...I could fit a notebook, my wallet, cell phone, plastic bag of first aid stuff, a snack, small bottle of water, and a spare diaper in it. People raved about its style and color. One woman actually said “Wow...you guys must be doing great!”. She thought it was authentic.



Last night, however, I placed the bag on my lap, and a loose wire almost tore my jeans. I sighed, and said I may have to cut around the pleather piping to remove the rest of the wire. My husband pointed out that it was wearing out on the bottom as well, and maybe it was time for a new bag.



So my gorgeous purple friend was replaced my a hot little scarlet number. Not a designer knockoff, but a genuine leather bag bought at Macy’s on sale. At $58 dollars, it was less expensive, but I wasn’t paying for a plagiarized name, and it’s a higher quality.



Still. I felt sad disposing of my knockoff. People recognized me because if it, and it carried my necessities. Only a thing, but it felt like an appendage.

Rest in peace, Purple M*** J***** Handbag.