If you’ve met me lately, you also have certainly met my Valextra* bag, a sublime present that I can’t stop wearing.
I know. It’s white. When I decided to pick the color white**, I thought I would regret it and I have to admit we’ve gone through a lot, my bag and I.
But we are survivors and as you know, what doesn’t kill you makes you stronger, so G + V = Eternal Love. But still:
So one velvet evening, we were at the bar with my friend Delphine, talking about economics and philosophy as usual, and I had put my bag on the ground***.
When suddenly, I hear the noise of broken glass on the ground and there… Picture this action in slowmo please:
I raise my arms to the sky, put my glass of rosé on the bar and dive on the ground to rescue my bag even before checking out where was the noise coming from, which is an obvious sign of the inner paranoia my white bag creates in me.
Still slowmo. I shout internally (or not) and I see wine stains on my bag. Still slowmo, I catch the barmaid and ask her for tissues and water as if I was, I don’t know, on the LOST island? I clean my bag like there’s no tomorrow while trying to smile (I’d love to see the grin I was making) and say it’s ok to the poor girl who just broke her glass and feels terrible about it.
My bag is fine. My dignity? Meeeeeeh, who cares?
Because my bags always become this “ back room of shame” where I throw everything I need + my gums used paper + my metro tickets + my lipsticks + … Obviously what had to happen, happened. One day one of my red lipsticks opened in my bag.
I was looking for my phone to take someones number when suddenly I took my bloody hand out of my bag. Livid face of the person in front of me:
“Garance, are you okay?”
Oh shit. As that person was like, someone important, I kept my psychopath reaction for later and laughed (I’d love to see the grin I was making) saying hihihi, ahah, it’s only red lipstick stay with me hehehhihi.
Of course, I then ran into a dark corner to clean my bag with my… Metro tickets.
I was so proud of my new Mango grunge jeans (trend alert!!!), that I had taken zero time to read the tag “This garment might contain dark.. blah blah” and I was walking on Rue St Honoré when I realized:
1/ My hands had a dark shade to them.
2/ If you turned it directly into the sun (yes of course, I turned my bag directly to the sun right in the middle of the Rue St Honoré !) there was a dark shade too.
Ouch. It was 11am and I was not supposed to go back to the hotel till night. I also had no time to go buy another pair of jeans.
So I discreetly raised my arm in a diagonal so that my bag would not rub on my jeans anymore and walked that way all day. Ah no, also sometimes, I just carried my bag like a baby. What!!! It stayed white!!!
All right my loves, this was a collection of anecdotes to remind you one thing:
We don’t own the objects. The objects own us.
Maybe that’s why we love them so much?
* I don’t know if you’ve ever heard of Valextra, an Italian leather goods brand for more that’s almost 100 years old.
It’s still a family brand. They barely do any advertising and every bag is made by hand by an artisan in Italy, of course, with a respect for the product and every last detail that is reminiscent of a great French brand. Anyway, I’m not going to get out the violins or anything and go on and on about artisans with a tear in my eye… But still.
** Guys, I’m a woman. We like to pick our presents, while saying “surprise me!!!” and then we wonder why our partners are always stuck at presents time.
*** Ok, MAJOR subject: Where do you put your bag?!! I’ll do a post about it like, next week.