Handbag Hell

In defiance of the accepted feminine stereotype, I must declare that I have no interest in either shoes or handbags. I view both with a strongly utilitarian eye. Today, however, I had to undertake an unsettling journey into handbag hell. I was in need of an evening bag for my upcoming cruise and spent the day moving from store to store in search of an appropriate satchel.

A search of my house will generally produce only two handbags - one brown and one black shoulder plain shoulder bag. I prefer shoulder bags over handbags or clutches since I consider myself incapable of keeping a watchful eye on any item not attached to my person. Once a bag is set down for any reason, there is a rather significant chance that it will remain in that position until the janitorial staff finds in while closing for the evening. Further, I purchase bags that are as plain as an unsalted Saltine. I have neither the time nor the eye to coordinate bags with outfits. I refuse to devote sections of my closet to a handbag collection designed to complement each individual item of my wardrobe. So, plain and in solid black or brown.

An evening bag has never found sanctuary in my home. Formal occasions do not fill my social calendar, therefore, I have never found need for a bag designed solely for "dress up" events. I was not even sure where to begin. I knew that I didn't want to spend the world for the bag as its use was quite limited, but wanted something that was appropriate. For an unfeminine femme, this was a puzzle. So, off to the malls and associated shops.

There should be a book titled "The Myth of the Perfect Handbag." It is as nonexistent as Bigfoot. No two women are shaped or sized exactly the same, nor share exactly the same taste. Even with this trememdous diversity and the vast handbag universe, no one seems to be able to find the Holy Grail of handbags. I know this, because I engaged in sociological research while shopping. I keenly interrogated women who were also bag shopping. I asked the young and the old, every cultural and racial profile I could discern...the consensus was that gorgeous bags existed, functional bags were common, comfortable bags could be had, but no one bag fulfilled every criterion to meet the definition of "perfect." I watched the well-dressed and the tacky scurrying about from shelf to shelf, touching, holding, trying on...bag after bag after bag. The right color, but the wrong size. The perfect style, but won't hold a phone. On and on and on...Like a test set by the Fates to weed out the unworthy...

I had thought that my needs were sufficiently specific that finding something suitable would not pose too much of a challenge. A bother, certainly, but nothing to raise the blood pressure. Of course, I was totally wrong. I wanted a simple, elegant black bag with a thin shoulder strap. It doesn't exist. If it did, it was sucked into hell long ago, leaving behind a race memory that serves only to show us what could have been. If it had a strap, it was replete with garish decoration. If it was plain, it was a clutch. If it was the right material, it was too large and if it was reasonably priced, it was too small. I wandered through the forest of tassels, beads and sequins...winced at too many zeroes on price tags...I had to have a lie down half-way through the ordeal.

Did I buy anything? Yeah. Plain. Black. Wrist strap. Wallet-style, rather than pure purse. Where? Target. I am ashamed. I got so discumbobulated by hour 3 that I defaulted to Target and grabbed a cheapie bag that will do the job, but not much else. I feel like I have let down the team.

I'm afraid to even think about dress shoes....