Among other things, a woman can never have enough purses. And so on my umpteenth trip to the mall to find just the right one, again, a comical analogy occurred to me.
Shopping for a purse is a lot like shopping for a date. The variety, first of all, was almost overwhelming. From ESPRIT to Liz Claiborne, I could take my pick of red, brown, black or white. And if I’m in the mood for some pizzazz, I could even go for a multi-colored number.
But once I found an appealing color, style became the next issue. I listened to others nearby, also trying to make a good choice. I chuckled when I overheard one woman commenting on a purse with a broken zipper. Ha! Must’ve been one of those pervs.
Some handbags were sleeker than Alec Baldwin; some as smooth as Eddie Murphy, bad language not included. The sturdy leather bags reminded me of Paul Hogan or Robert Redford, and the fake leather, well … sorry Rick Rockwell. It said, “Who wants to carry a multi-millionaire knock-off?” all over it.
I found some purses to be quite complicated: straps here, doodads there; much more baggage than I need at the moment, sorta like Justin Timberlake. Who needs all that drama with the ex? But then there were the simple ones, almost too simple. They had no character, no life, and no creativity – no thank you Hugh Grant (you’re hot, but that’s all).
Feeling a bit like Goldilocks in the dissatisfaction department, I finally settled for comfort. Yeah, that’s it, comfort. I tried it on. The straps fit perfectly around my shoulder. It was just the right size, not too short, not too tall. It had a John Travolta-look to it, with a disco design that seemed to hum “burn, baby burn.” I’m thinking this could be long term here. I mean, this purse just might last through several seasons without the usual boredom, frustration and unnecessary arguments at tollgates when looking for loose change.
The store clerk told me to save the receipt just in case I needed to return the item. I told her I always do, because once you see them in a different light, their personalities can change on a dime. She said, “Huh?”
I further explained that on first dates they can look and smell great, say the right things and be a top-notch gentleman. But once all the paper stuffing is tossed aside, and you begin to see his character, what’s really inside, that’s when the receipt comes in handy, and you suddenly find yourself back at the mall, rummaging through purses again.
Charleen Earley is a veteran freelance writer, comedienne and high school journalism teacher. Please visit her website at www.CharleenEarley.com.
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