When it comes
to the carrying of purses, there are four kinds of women* (at least among the various
women I have observed throughout my life).
In the first
category are women who carry teensy tiny little purses that allow room for a
tissue, some keys and, what—lipstick, cash in the old days and nowadays a
credit/debit card, and a driver’s license?
If you are fortunate enough to accompany one of these women to a movie
or a restaurant or a concert, chances are she will ask you to stick something
into your purse for her because it won’t fit in her minuscule reticule (“Hold
on to my sunglasses, will you?”). I do
know one woman with one of these miniature marvels, and she clips and hangs all
kinds of accoutrements on the outside of it. It is freely festooned with keys, loyalty
cards, hand sanitizer and even a pill bottle.
One could almost call this a chatelaine—although the ladies who carried
chatelaines never had hand sanitizer but they surely could have used some in
those germy days of yore. But I digress,
back to my friend. It is a rarity to see
her with any purse large enough to contain everything she carries.
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| The miniscule reticule |
Type number
two carries what almost amounts to a suitcase.
Everything they seek is to be found within its shadowy deeps. They hear their phone ringing—“It’s in
there somewhere!” How about a pen? “I
know I have one. Let me see if I can find it!” “I think my checkbook is in
there!” Within these gigantic satchels
they frequently carry massive wallets with every credit card and piece of
identification known to womankind. Plus
coupons, receipts, ID—and
who knows what else? Oh—and
a beauty salon’s worth of make-up and hair products.
I fall into
category number three. I call it the
Goldilocks purse, not too big and not too small: just the right size for what I need to carry
with me on any given occasion. My
current purses are usually either black or red.
I have medium sized ones and several smaller sizes. They must come
equipped with pockets (some with zippers)—although not too many pockets,
thank you very much. I spent a good
twelve hours one day hunting for a coin purse which I knew I had just used the
previous day, yet that morning at the bank I could not find it. I hunted all over my shop on and off all day,
searched in my car several times, turned my house upside down in the evening—and
where was the elusive coin purse? In a
pocket inside the purse (hand-me-down L.L. Bean cross body sling bag) that I
missed during the two times I thought I had emptied it!
Mind you, I
have not always been in the Goldilocks category. In the seventies I carried a Guatemalan
knitted wool shoulder bag that had no interior pockets so I just chucked everything in there and it kept
expanding and expanding. A customs
officer once remarked that that bag could be classified as a lethal weapon
because it was so heavy.
I must have a
shoulder strap on any kind of bag—otherwise, why bother? Clutch purses are ridiculous—do you really
want to go around with that thing in your hand all night? I made myself a macramé clutch purse for a
special formal evening out but only used it once because it was so stupid to
have to actually carry it around everyplace.
But then again, that is how everyone totes their phones around. Maybe they should carry a purse, which brings
us to category number four.
And what is
category number four? Some women do not
carry purses at all. Keys in one hand,
phone in the other. That’s about it, as
far as I can tell. Baffles me
completely. But maybe they keep their
stuff in their pockets. I rarely buy any
garments without pockets; in my humble opinion garments without pockets ought
to be illegal.
Speak softly and carry a big purse
Women
on television and in movies rarely carry purses. From soaps to sitcoms, dramas to
documentaries—how
many purses have you seen? One of the
rare exceptions to this observation was also one of my favorite women on TV—Deputy Police
Chief Brenda Leigh Johnson (played to the absolute hilt by Kyra Sedgwick) on The Closer. She fell into in purse category number two—at one
point in the show she was even carrying her late cat Kitty’s ashes in her purse
and she always had an ample supply of cookies, candy bars, and sweets. It was her favorite prop in the interrogation
room—no
one ever quite knew what damning evidence she might dredge forth from its deeps. When she marched into the room and flung that
thing down onto the table, the suspect’s eyes would widen in dread. I cannot remember seeing an actor have so
darned much fun with a single prop (with the possible exception of Tom Baker and his versatile
scarf in Doctor Who).
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| Kyra Sedgewick and the Tote |
Brenda Leigh’s
handbag (they called it a tote) was a Michael Kors designer original in leather
but it proved so popular with fans of the show that a knock-off (I suppose they
called it a replica) was created and
sold on QVC. That bag should have won an
Emmy for a supporting role!
My grandmother
always made sure to carry a roll or two of Lifesavers in her purse, because she
knew they were a treat for me. My mother,
in addition to wadded shreds of Kleenex, carried a small tin of tiny hard licorice
pastilles called Helps. She was an
uneasy rider so these settled her stomach on car rides. And until just before she died at the age of
ninety seven, my stepmom never went anywhere without her precious lipstick
(Revlon Persian Melon) and her vital compact (Cover Girl Translucent Light).
No
matter what size purse I am carrying it will contain these items: lip balm, a tissue
or two, Band-Aids, nail clipper, a few business cards, a gel pen and a
mechanical pencil, and a 3x5 spiral notebook, and appropriate ID. When I am carrying a larger bag it will also
contain at least one camera and extra batteries for it, one dumb phone (turned
off unless I need it), maybe a small tripod, a larger (4x6) spiral notebook, pocket
calendar, coin purse, ID, and perhaps a hi-lighter or two, a thumb drive or three,
Neosporin, Tylenol, Rescue Remedy, and Gin-Gins.
And rocks—I
always carry a few mineral specimens, including a Zuni horse fetish, and the
Labradorite disc which I inherited from my late friend Barbara (she carried it with
her everywhere she went). Sometimes I
also carry a small refillable water bottle.
And maybe even a hairbrush. And a
flashlight.
I
only carry a credit card if I intend to use it that day. It always astonishes me when I see women who
reveal a library of dozens of credit cards in their wallets—I
believe they are the ones who complain the loudest when their purses are lost
or stolen and they have to spend all day on the phone cancelling all those
cards.
Purses, foiled again!
There have
been times when I have gotten a hankering for a particular kind of purse and
have been unable to locate one that meets my style, color, size, and price
criterion. That is when I have made my
own purses—either sewing them out of fabulous fabric or knotting them with
macramé. Once in a great while I have
found the right bag in the right size but the wrong color so then I have dyed
it. I had a great cotton bag in dark
olive (a color I loathed), so I used RIT color remover to get it down to white so
I could dye it red. I was really pleased
seeing the horrid color disappear, but when I took it out of the solution and
it began to dry—to my amazement all of the olive returned. I ended up having to use chlorine
bleach. Yuck. But it dyed nicely and I was pleased with the
outcome, despite the extra steps needed to achieve it.
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| Some of the purses I have made over the years. |
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| Purse with color removed. |
One day I
found a nice black leather bag at the thrift shop. It was a Giani Bernini (never heard of him,
mind you) designer bag worth hundreds and I bought it for $5. Unfortunately when I got it home and looked
at it carefully in good light, I discovered it was dark brown. Not acceptable! So I stripped off the finish on the leather
and dyed it black with leather dye.
Figured for $5 I could live with the hideous brown interior. Oh, and the price of the leather conditioner
and dye.
Another time I
found the perfectly sized bright red nylon LeSportsac on eBay. Unfortunately upon its arrival I discovered
the rubber coated waterproofing in the lining was deteriorating and had turned into
a gooey mess. With a bit of
experimenting I discovered that isopropyl alcohol dissolved this goo and for the
cost of a couple of bottles from the drug store (enough to soak the bag) I was
able to restore it to its original non-sticky state. So what if it is not waterproof. I don’t care and the vendor refunded me the
cost of the isopropyl alcohol so that made me very happy.
One of my
recurring nightmares is always that I have somehow lost my purse. My ID!
My keys! My stuff!!! I awaken in a cold sweat. But whew!—it was only a dream. Maybe women who have never carried a purse
are never cursed with this particular nightmare.
Dogs and cats
have an insatiable curiosity when it comes to the innards and contents of
purses. I was taking a shower at Kim’s
house one night before we went out to the Continental, and when I came out of
the bathroom I grabbed my purse and started hunting for a Kleenex. Kim sheepishly admitted that Tarot had rifled
through my bag and had eaten all of the tissues he could find. Her dogs were always famous for eating weird
things out of her own purse. Dillie once
ate her diaphragm (she asked her vet if that could be dangerous to him and he
replied, “I don’t know—no one ever asked me that question before.”) On another occasion he unearthed and ate a
batch of special brownies, tin foil wrapping
and all; they did him no harm—he mellowed out and slept really soundly for a
couple of days.
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| This is Mama Lucy investigating one of my purses. |
Another night
out with the Regular Gals found me at my Sweet Cousin Jackie’s apartment; we
were getting ready to meet Barbara, Pamela and John and go out to dinner with
another friend—to meet his new girlfriend (and impress her with what a
wonderful bunch of friends her new man had).
I was sitting on the sofa with my purse on the floor at my feet. I glanced down to find sweet little calico kitty
Cupcake crawling into my bag. Without
thinking, I reached down to grab her and extract her when she turned on me like
a mountain lion and clawed the living daylights out of my arm. I had completely forgotten that adorable
little Cupcake was the devil in disguise.
Of course Jackie did not have any first aid supplies (not even a
Band-Aid!) so I ended up at dinner looking like some junkie with massive bruises
and puncture wounds all over my arm. This
incident may well have been the beginnings of my determination to carry
Band-Aids and Neosporin with me whenever possible. (Wouldn’t I have made a great Boy Scout?)
So, whether
you call it a purse or a handbag or a pocketbook, a clutch or a tote or a messenger
bag—we are all fortunate that these wondrous things have been invented and are
available in so many sizes, shapes, and colors.
Carry on!
*Men also
carry purses but of course they would rather die than call them that in public. They call them briefcases, backpacks,
shoulder bags, satchels, sporrans, pouches, camera bags, or even saddlebags back
in the days of the Wild West. They also carry their stuff in gym bags and golf
bags. Just big purses—nudge nudge, wink
wink, say no more, say no more.
Do you carry a
purse? Small, medium
or large?
What is the
weirdest item you have ever carried in your purse?
If you don’t
carry a purse, how do you carry anything with you?