On Designer Bag Guilt

From the Editor

Happily, I’m rescued from boredom via iPhone by my dear friend from the Carolinas who is, let’s say, a little more Lowe’s Team Nascar Racing than he is Longchamp or Lanvin.

Amid chit-chat somehow the fact that I was carrying a Louis Vuitton came up. Scolding ensued as he lectured me on how ridiculous it is to spend $1,000 (or $1,575 in this case) on a handbag. I think his exact words were (please read aloud with a sort-of-yummy deep-voiced southern accent) “Any girl that came home to my house with a Louis Vuitton bag? We’re gonna have a problem.”

Excuses, Excuses

I engaged in a Louis validation campaign, determined to educate him on the virtues of the legendary Parisian label. “But centuries-old French royalty carried LV!”, “You would cry to see the vintage trunk collection!” As the airplane ascended and all technology was banned, I could no longer fight the good fight but I was left to wonder why I had worked so hard to convince an un-convince-able naysayer. Why did I care what anyone else thought about what I carried on my arm? Is it possible that I felt guilty? I was driven to think about why we buy what we buy and whether any of it is really worth the price we pay.

Folks, the situation was dire indeed. This man had me questioning my designer bag loyalties.

Why do we task the simple act of carrying a laptop, bottle of H2O, makeup bag, eyeglasses and book to something that costs more than one month of a car payment? When you think of it like that, he’s right – it doesn’t really make sense. But maybe it’s because beautiful things that make us happy aren’t always about logic. Sometimes it’s not as simple as cost + function = value.

Like music, a perfect smile, a gorgeous sunset or a passionate love, price is often more based on how something makes you feel than on what it actually does. My vintage men’s LV monogram briefcase is not going to change the world or save any starving children in Honduras. Nor is it as important as a baby’s first words or ending a civil war. It’s not a masters degree, a promotion, or a marriage license. It’s not equal to the thrill of winning an Olympic medal or getting published or saving someone’s life. It’s not besting a bully in a fist fight, curing cancer or solving really any problems at all and admittedly it’s purely materialistic.

Right to Carry

But that vintage men’s LV monogram briefcase does make me feel connected to the Wall Street trader who probably carried it to the World Trade Center in the ‘80s. And to the first LV trunk ever placed on a cross-continental nineteenth century European train. And to all the other fashionistas who grew up dirt poor and dreamed of one day trekking to 5th Avenue to get their first luxe goodie.

Folks, the situation was dire indeed. For a good hour this man had me questioning my designer bag loyalties. He almost had me renouncing my Vuitton. Almost. But I ask, is this feeling of connection to the world through Fashion so wrong? I say no. And dammit, I work hard for this and it makes me happy. Take that designer bag guilt!