Since I have giant feet for a woman (but not, my vanity must proclaim, for my height. Really, dudes my height and shorter rock a size 14-16. I wear a positively dainty size 12 mens), I pour all my stereotypically female shoe-love into bags. I have a lot of bags. Brown bags and black bags and blue bags and orange bags and one that looks like Ramona Flowers’ bag.
Over the years I’ve probably spent about thousands of dollars on bags. Which, I guess, isn’t so much considering I started carrying a purse in the 7th grade.
Since my big FORTIETH! birthday is quickly approaching, I decided to buy myself something extra fabulous. Okay, yes, I usually get myself a birthday gift every year, but last year’s gift was paying the mortgage and while that’s all fine and responsible, it is not fun at all.
So this year, I decided that I would get myself the most beautiful blue bag on the face of the planet. Isn’t it lovely? It’s in my favorite of colors and has outside pockets that I adore and it’s handmade by a woman in Maine. Handmade! So the money would be going to an actual person and not some conglomerate (I like to give my money to actual people whenever possible). The bag is just the most divine thing I’ve ever laid eyes on. I love it. However, it is expensive ($238). Do I think it’s worth that money? Hell yes. Can I spend $238 on a bag? Hell no.
I thought I was the kind of person who could spend that much money on a bag. I was sure of it. After all, I’m the same person who just two years ago moments after drowning her Macbook, Gideon, ordered another one while Gideon was still dripping.
Today I loaded the bag into my cart and then when it came time to push the button, I couldn’t do it. It just felt so wasteful and unnecessary. I thought of all the things I could buy with $238, or how with another hundred or so I could buy an iPad. Yeah, $238 for a purse, too much. $400 for an iPad, perfectly acceptable. I don’t even make sense to myself anymore.