I Hate My Purse

I actually LOVE my purses. And clutches and totes. I wish I could afford to buy lots more fabulous purses but I stick to a pretty regular rotation of three that I love, a tote bag, an amazing leather purse/diaper bag and a beautiful fake leather hobo bag. They are all in lovely condition and I take care of them and treat them well...on the outside. The inside is a whole nother sad story. I pretend that the inside matches the outside. That the interior of my purses look like those posts that women do where they show the contents of their bag and it's like a lip balm, a cute notebook and matching pen, a coin purse, a key fob from their travels in India, a hand stitched leather wallet, a fancy phone and a designer scarf for bad hair days. In reality it's like a tornado went off in there, scattering the contents and leaving a trail through old bills, crumpled receipts, baby toys, hair bands, sunglasses, loose change, forgotten about chapsticks, a random raisin or two, wet naps and the odd stick of gum. That's why I love this excerpt from Nora Ephron's book "I Feel Bad About My Neck". "I Hate My Purse" made me laugh out loud.

"I hate my purse. I absolutely hate it. If you're one of those women who think there's something great about purses, don't even bother reading this because there will be nothing here for you. This is for women who hate their purses, who are bad at purses, who understand that their purses are reflections of negligent housekeeping, hopeless organization, chronic inability to throw anything away, and an ongoing failure to handle the obligations of a demanding and difficult accessory (the obligation, for example, that it should in some way match what you're wearing). This is for women whose purses are a morass of loose Tic Tacs, solitary Advils, lipsticks without tops, ChapSticks of unknown vintage, little bits of tobacco even though there has been no smoking going on for at last ten years, tampons that have come loose from their wrappings, English coins from a trip to London last October, boarding passes from long-forgotten airplane trips, hotel keys from God-knows-what hotel, leaky ballpoint pens, Kleenexes that either have or have not been used but there's no way to be sure one way or another, scratched eyeglasses, an old tea bag, several crumpled personal checks that have come loose from the checkbook and are covered with smudge marks, and an unprotected toothbrush that looks as if it has been used to polish silver..."