My Secret (Or Not So Secret) Obsession...

We all have obsessions. Those things that for whatever reason, known or unknown, simply resonate with us and make us happy. For me, that obsession is purses.


I have purses that represent every aspect of my life and my personality. I have the structured, black leather bag that came with its own name and its own protective cover, that represents my corporate work personality. Hanging on the crook of my elbow with my hand ever so slightly elevated at an angle, this purse gives me the confidence to fit into my own structured world. I also have the completely unstructured hippy bag that is not bound by organizer pockets and zippers, it has no form and no timeline, and represents the carefree spirit that I would like to have. I have the teeny tiny wristlet that tells the world that I don't need to carry anything when I leave the house except for my lipstick and my cell phone. And, of course, I have the Ginourmous MacGyver bag that is filled with anything I might need to meet any challenge that comes my way. Unexpected rainstorm? I have an umbrella! Broke the heel on my shoe? I have a spare pair of flats! Sudden famine? Don't worry, I have crackers! Each purse is unique with its own personality and each purse represents a little bit about who I am...or maybe who I would like to be.


Just as important as the purse, is what it holds inside. I'm not going to lie - there is no better nirvana for me than doing the "purse transfer". I LOVE taking everything out of one purse and organizing it into another purse (which is likely why I rarely carry any purse for longer than one week at a time).  This is my time to clean out my handbag, organizing my life into compartments that are easily accessible. I love knowing where everything is in my handbag. I clean out the old receipts from my wallet and organize the dollars (if there happen to be any!)  I re-evaluate the lipstick options, weighing whether or not this is a brown week, pink week, red week, or just clear gloss. I immediately place my cell phone in its protective pocket, reassured that at a moment's notice, I could whip it out like something from a Clint Eastwood" Dirty Harry" movie. I always carry an antique floral handkerchief. I guess I like the romanticism of being able to wipe away any sadness with something beautiful that has wiped away so many tears in its lifetime. I carry a small bag filled with good luck charms - little trinkets that have absolutely no value and no meaning to anyone else in this world, but to me, they are important enough to carry with my every single day. Though all my appointments, meetings and important reminders are held in my blackberry, I also carry a calendar because sometimes you just need to hold the paper and look at the bigger picture and take a moment to pencil in a future plan or dream - otherwise, they never seem to become reality. With all my essentials appropriately placed in my treasured vessel, I am ready to face whatever comes my way.


I don't remember the first purse that I ever had, but I am certain that my passion for purses began when I was very young. I have a photo of myselfas a little girl playing on our swingset in the backyard, with my bright yellow patent leather handbag hanging over my shoulder. In fact, when I think back to any age or any stage in my life, I can equate it to the purse I might have been carrying at the time. I remember the tiny white wicker basket bag that I had in kindergarten and so many of the wonderful hand-me-downs from my sisters through the years. And when I became of a certain age, I began accumulating purses on my own.


At one point, years ago, for some reason I decided that maybe there was something slightly shameful in my somewhat overwhelming purse collection so I decided to put myself on a strict diet and resolved to allow myself only one new purse each year. I nominated Mollie as the gatekeeper who would be the voice of reason when my resistance was low. Not an easy task for an 8- year old but Mollie has never been known to turn away from a challenge and she took her responsibility seriously. I cannot count how many times she must have said to me when I was contemplating a purse, "Really, Mom? This one? Then you will be done for the year - are you sure this is THE ONE?" I would chew the inside of my lip as I debated each purses' merits and eventually would slowly back away, shaking, but feeling the confidence of my resistance.


Mollie would be the only one who could say for certain, but I think I stuck to my resolution that year. However, at the beginning of the next year, I received a birthday card from my sister. On the front was a picture of a little girl who had no fewer than five purses on each of her arms, her face and her smile were full of joy, and the photo was captioned "You can never have too many purses".  And my sister wrote on the bottom, "And life is too short...to not have too many purses."


From that point, I released myself from the bondage of my resolution. Over the years, my purse inventory has occasionally grown and then diminished as I donate them to make room or because they no longer fit an aspect of who I am. But I refuse to feel shame about my love for purses and I will likely remain purse obsessed until the day I day. And I hope when that day comes, someone who reads this will remember and they will bury me with my purse. Because with my purse by my side, I can face whatever comes next.