What might your handbag say about you?

Feb 19, 2007
2,699
23
You see smooth leather, butter-like and soft, satiny to the touch. You note the brass studs along my handles and admire the aged patina. And you know my function, my job, the role I am suppose to play.

What you don’t know is the closeness I feel with my owner or my true worth in her eyes.

I may carry her glasses, her keys, her baubles and yes, sometimes her collection of girlie stuff. I may know she wears Bubblegum Pink lipgloss even at her age and keeps a chocolate bar hidden from the kids.

But I also carry her joy from the new baby, the fear from the Doctor appointment long ago, the sadness from last year’s funeral and the laughter from seeing her dear friend at the market last week.

See how I am held in the crook of her arm, close to her body and affectionately carried like a valued confidant. We go side by side throughout her day, both of us taking the same steps, making the same journey through life.

While, indeed, I may carry the commonplace and trite, I also hold those things of great value, those feelings and experiences that make her, her.
______________________

That's what my handbag says about me.

What might yours say about you?
 
Here's what my bags say about me:

"You're a disorganized mess, but we all love you. We love you so much that we'll take it upon ourselves to conceal this disorganized mess from the rest of the word. What's more, we'll project another you to the world: a classy lady with impeccable taste and a sense of whimsy. You're secret is safe with us"
 
I know my lady's secrets. My exterior displays hints of her inner life in rich leather, distinctive hardware and excellent design. I may not speak my own name loudly, but people suspect I have one and sometimes a few may divine it. Her identity is a secret I carry comfortably within my dark interior, where it nestles amongst proofs of her sexuality, her profession and her finances. She entrusts me with her most private business: letters and contracts, manuscripts, names and dates.

I welcome her pleasure when she tosses my strap over her shoulder and hugs my soft leather to her body. I may be unassuming, but that's why we get along so well. I am her accomplice in hiding certain truths that would make others uncomfortable around her, yet I like to think I express her good taste and love of quality and beauty.

The antique watch case hung upon my zipper pull proclaims her joy in all things equestrian, harking back to her childhood. My recesses carry evidence that she is sexual, quirky and even a little kinky. Her dime store lip balm shows her loyalty to beloved products. A pocket of appointment cards would betray she is no longer young enough to ignore her health. She's fond of surprises: a tiny package picked up on her most recent shopping trip will soon be back inside me, wrapped, destined to appear in the mailbox of one of her grown sons.

Wherever she goes, I am at her side. At meetings, I sit on the table or beside her, a repository of business cards, documents and notebooks. My contents are consulted for nearly every decision. When we go to her conventions, I become a bag of holding for dozens of delicious finds and purchases. At home, after relieving me of that day's items, be they business or pleasure, she places me on a table or hangs me on the back of a chair, close at hand for whatever her next adventure might be.
 
Ah, LadyLinda, I see we are kindred spirits through beautiful words.

And I also see that our handbags, no matter the woman, no matter the circumstances, help define a small portion of who we are, who we show to the world.
 
Sigh...sorry - no waxing poetic for me this a.m. :P

My bag says "Can you tell my owner doesn't like to wear a crappy cheap bag?"

My bag says "Wow am I lucky- I've been stuck in the dustbag for too long with my other buddies...I was begining to think I'd NEVER see the light of day..." :graucho:

My bag says "Whew! That was close!! I thought she going to sell me!" :wtf:

My bag says "She loves me no matter what her mood." :rolleyes:

My bag says "Ah....I love being me....." :heart:
 
Mine is professional, sleek and smooth and while it can manage a lot on the inside, it always manages to look it's best on the outside regardless.
It's of a larger size but in proportion, and it always likes to be co-ordinated with it's fellow accessories!
 
I am seen as a frivolous expenditure by the masses as few kindred spirits appreciate my beauty and function but there's a lot more to my existence...I hold many secrets, some of which even her husband is unaware, like her stash of chocolate though she's perpetually vigilant of her waistline...I am a silent accomplice to her shopping vice and harbor the evidence of her spoils, with reciepts and invoices stashed deep in the recesses of my interior...I am soft, pliant and opulent with a comforting rich smell, yet to open me I become minty cool and refreshing...my aroma is distinct yet comforting and she knows my smell as a mother knows that of her child...her love for me is unconditional and steadfast...she holds me close to her heart, sometimes clutching me in anticipation of a new purchase, and other times slung across her body to use those hands to comfort her child...she will keep me by her side...a constant companion, confidant and keeper of all things near and dear to her heart!
 
Most of my bags don't even know me... I don't carry them enough, but I guarantee my Coach Chelsea tote would HATE me. If it could talk it would say:

"That *****! She loads me up with heavy books and uses me as a school bag. I am a fine leather handbag. She always leaves me open; doesn't she even knowhow to usea zipper?! Oh and don't even get me started on the paint incident! Yeah, that's right, PAINT! And to make matters worse, she doesn't even carry me anymore. She's cheating on me! With Hayden-Harnett!!!:mad: But I can't stay mad at her... I'm a Coach bag so I have to love her forever :Push: :crybaby:"
 
Most of my bags don't even know me... I don't carry them enough, but I guarantee my Coach Chelsea tote would HATE me. If it could talk it would say:

"That *****! She loads me up with heavy books and uses me as a school bag. I am a fine leather handbag. She always leaves me open; doesn't she even knowhow to usea zipper?! Oh and don't even get me started on the paint incident! Yeah, that's right, PAINT! And to make matters worse, she doesn't even carry me anymore. She's cheating on me! With Hayden-Harnett!!!:mad: But I can't stay mad at her... I'm a Coach bag so I have to love her forever :Push: :crybaby:"


:roflmfao::roflmfao: The paint incident..that's a good one. I never close my zippers either.
 
I am supple and sexy. I attract attention without saying a word. I command the floor. I am part of a charade and in conjunction with her quiet and serious disposition I help transform her into the "the ***** you love to hate". If people only knew the truth! If I were to open up to the world they'd see a very different person. If they knew that she reads technology magazines for fun? If they could see, I am constantly housing the latest cell phone, pda and iPod. If they saw the two work pagers. The UNIX cheatsheets. The Apple sticker she carries around because she doesn't want to waste it. The expenses tracking spreadsheet, the handbag inventory checklist, the calendar to record what outfit she wears everyday, the TidetoGo pen because she's a clutz, the fact that she balances her checkbook every single day....if you could see what I see you would know:
The stunning, fashionable, and somewhat mysterious beauty before you is nothing more than a major NERD with a nice wardrobe!!! :welcome: