On wednesday, I was out and about (as usual) trying to strike off my to-do list for the day; meet a shoe-repair man for my worn-out suede moccasins, check out a polo club’s policy, get water colour, buy a black and a red eye-pencil, see the bag lady…
Ah. The bag lady. The bag lady and I have a wary relationship. She wants to sell anything and I want to buy something I like.
She can sell a tattered, torn bag to you with cries of: (make your inside-head voice read this in a Chinese accent) :
“oh! So beautiful..!”
“Such good taste..!”
“Those holes on the side really match your ear-holes.. and the peeling leather reminds of the frailness of life..”
“Oh so pretty!”
“You make such good choices..!”
“You have good eye for fashion!”
Shee does this for any bag you as little as look at. Every. One. And i’m stuck with her till i pick a bag.
You see, earlier in the year, I had seen a brown-red leather bag at her shop but, the leather at the bottom was peeling. Otherwise it was really cute. As soon as she noticed my interest, Bag lady was on my shoulder like a parrot on it’s captain. It can be fixed, she said. Piece of cake, she said. All it needs is leather of the same brown shade, she said. She knew a guy she said.
So i paid.
Guess who went back to her shop and saw some black and white crap as the new bottom and as the handle of a bag she had paid for…
“Thanks but no thanks,” i told her as soon as I saw the monstrosity. So, I now have first dibs on anything that comes into her shop that i like.
On wednesday, she called and yours’ truly went over to check. And check i did. Then I saw it. It was the most beautiful white bag ever (shut up, don’t argue). I wanted this bag SO BAD!
“How much is it?” I demanded of bag-lady. She named the price and I didn’t want the bag anymore. In fact, right before my very eyes, the bag started to morph into some ugly crap.
In the midst of it, two parts of my thoughts struggled:
Thoughtster 1: “save for it, don’t get the wholemeal biscuit you take daily, don’t get your hair done for easter, don’t go playing around for like two weeks. That bag is a classic, goes with everything… DON’T SCREW THIS UP. TAKE IT.”
Bag-lady chimed in, feeding off my confusion, “That’s a big woman bag oh… If they see you, they will know that you have arrived…”
Thoughtster 2: “But you’re not a big woman… And You haven’t arrived… Your 63 Kg frame is still hustling.. Why should you strain for just one bag that you won’t carry everyday? Get a clue, Woman! And who the hell is this ‘they‘ you’re trying to please?!”
Let me just say there is no white bag in my room. And I’m not sad or depressed or wishing I had more money. When the time is right i’ll have the chance to get them.. If i still want them, life is funny that way.
And Someone once told me; if you can’t afford to buy two of it, you can’t afford it. I think it was twitter.