Handbags, Pocketbooks, Purses

Men just need a wallet, but women need many handbags, purses and totes!  No one really sees a man's wallet.  But a Woman's handbag or purse is out in plain sight. It is surely understandable that a lady would want different handbags, purses and fashion accessories to match her outfit and shoes.  When did you get your first pocketbook, handbag or purse?  Read our article and reminisce with one woman as she recalls episodes of Handbag Hysteria! Can you believe that Amazon.com also sells Handbags?  Yes, Amazon sells Handbags, Purses, Totes, Duffel bags, Shopping totes, Sports bags, Messenger bags and More! If you don't see what you want, just click on the Amazon logo and browse their online store.  Amazon.com is the best place buy Books, DVDs, Clothes, Electronics and EVEN Handbags, Purses, Pocketbooks, Totes, Shoes and other Fashion Accessories - and at Great Prices!

Handbag Hysteria by Angelica Candelaria   10/11/08 Upon many an occasion I have accompanied my mother on shopping errands that have included a visit to one of those dreaded aisles where your eyes spontaneously dull and adopt a glaze of sheer boredom. You stand there in seeming apathy, all the while longing for relief in muted tones. Is there any method of escape? You absentmindedly shift your weight from one foot to the other in a subdued dance of agony. That is the state I generally discover myself in when trapped amidst a maelstrom of handbags, purses, wallets, and pocketbooks. In the distance I hear, "What do you think of this one?" I mumble an "I don't know." At times I am able to rise above my comatose condition and muster a more enthusiastic comment, such as "That is ugly." It is only appropriate that the coolest of passions would momentarily be roused when confronted with the likes of a hideous, scrunched up piece of shiny red vinyl with massive rhinestone accents. All this being said, even rebels against fashion's conventions cannot elude the use of some type of holder for their contents, however few. I have an old, rather worn wallet with a shoulder strap that has been treated as a scratching post by my cats. One of them has even imitated Tarzan by swinging on it to and fro as it hangs from my bedroom doorknob. When I notice (and feel) the roughness of the cat marks on its surface, the broken outer zipper, the main compartment that will not close, and the fact that all of my important cards fell out of it some months ago, I tell myself that I need a new wallet. Then my eyes glaze over. I did recently come across a novel item that would suit me a great deal more than anything I have encountered at a department store: a black handbag with silver, metallic accents shaped like a miniature coffin. No rhinestones, no leopard prints, no multiple compartments into which one futilely attempts to retrieve contents in an efficient manner. No. It is just a simple, dead serious, straightforward piece of morbid handiwork. I confess that I once used a slightly larger accessory for my belongings during a phase of abandoned reason, although it was still small by today's standards. It was a stiff little purse of a strange, shiny, almost gold hue. It resembled an old, dolled-up lunchbox without the ravioli-filled thermos, the Capri-Sun, and the apple. It was impractical, as I found that it was difficult to multitask (as is necessary when grocery shopping, for example) while holding it. Of course, there are women who cannot get away with carrying such a small purse. They require something approximating a valise. Theirs is not merely a holder for trivial things like money, licenses, debit cards, or checkbooks. Aside from the makeup, they need sufficient room for a traveling pharmacy, a jewelry store, a perfume factory, a planner, a set of bingo markers, a box of Kleenex, and perhaps two or three pocketbooks with contents of their own. They are prepared for any contingency (think Ally Sheedy's character in "The Breakfast Club"), including running away from home--even if they are forty-five years of age. Although my own mother carries a medium-sized purse, its sheer weight has left indentations upon my shoulder. I ask her how she can possibly withstand carrying it wherever she goes. I suppose if you have endured the pain of childbirth, chronic back and shoulder ailments (not to mention a perpetually crooked gait) from a two-ton purse is nothing. I can empathize (only to a very limited degree) with husbands and boyfriends whose women request that they hold their handbags. You see these men from all walks of life sharing similar looks of dejection (possibly bordering on humiliation) as they attempt to hold these purses in as masculine a way as the situation allows. Perhaps the matter could be the inspiration for a new bestseller: Purse-Carrying Women and the Men Who Love Them: A Psychological Profile. The only time I remember liking a purse was during childhood. My Mom had a perfectly shaped, strapless rectangular purse with a very modest, almost diagonal bow on its right hand side. It had a dull sheen and was an unforgettably bright, royal blue. I am uncertain whether or not she ever used it, yet it somehow found its way into my playthings. What I placed within it I do not know, yet I periodically think of that purse with much fondness, the rose tincture of childhood magically coloring my view. I cannot imagine using such a purse in adulthood, although it might be less shocking and more socially acceptable than carrying a miniature coffin. Comments

Email a Friend!     Related Articles    Next Article