While on a new handbag hunt in an Annie Sez store, I found the perfect pink handbag. Suddenly, I felt energized. It was just the right portion of electricity to thrust me into that “just buy it” mode.
Typically, the handbag that would catch my eye and nicely suit my needs was past my price point. When it was all said and done, I’d end up walking out of a store having settled for something inferior in color and style. Not this time. It’s the Mother’s Day season, and I proudly qualify three times over, I justified to myself.
Being a softie for anything “pink” the handbag I was eyeing was scrumptious. It was smart, savvy, and in a lovely soft shade of my signature color. My heart quickened and fantasy took over. I envisioned myself strutting around with my new casual chic handbag on my arm in style. Besides, “Top Blonde” was written all over I, I reasoned. It was the perfect bag for me in every way and my decision was made in a New York minute. I then meandered over to the checkout counter bubbling with excitement like a kid in a candy store about to indulge in a big lollipop.
“I really shouldn’t be doing this,” I said to, Lucy, the sales representative. Without missing a beat, Lucy said with an assuring smile, “Oh, but color is in this year. Just look at all our handbags in bight spring colors.”
Hum. Glancing at the turquoise, orange, and green handbags lining a shelf on the back wall, I could see she was right. They all looked fabulous.
No sooner had I arrived home with my luscious new pink handbag than the cloud of doubt began taking residence in my head. I should have purchased it in the tan tone instead of pink. It was much more practical.
My dear mom, Helen, deceased now, could tell you practicality wasn’t necessarily my strong suite regarding shopping though she did her best to steer me from my flair for fun and trends to style and class.
After sleeping on my dilemma of whether to exchange my energizing new pink handbag that I loved for the staid but practical tan toned one, I reconsidered my purchase and drove back to the store to see if there were any left. There had been only one pink handbag, but there were three in tan…and they were all still available.
The sales lady that assisted me had been working on the day I made my initial purchase and was surprised to see me back for an exchange. She had seen how jazzed I had been about the pink handbag. I explained that while I loved the pink one and that it would work well with my wardrobe, I thought it was time to be more practical. After all, I was now sixty-something, for goodness sakes, and a grandmother!
We did the exchange, and I drove home with my new tan toned handbag. It was the same style as the pink one, but the fun factor was missing. It was definitely suitable but minus the flair.
When I went to use my new handbag I carefully removed the tags and began filling it with my purse items. It was then I noticed that the stitching on the inside of one of the zippered pockets hadn’t been stitched. Anything put into that pocket would soon disappear into the bowels of the handbag and never be seen again.
Being handy with a needle and thread I knew I could stitch it up but that wasn’t the point. No more settling. Maybe it was time to get into the spirit of pink after all. The only thing left to do was go back to the store and see if the one in my favorite color was still there.
My visit back to the store this time was swift. In no time I was walking back to my Jeep with a silly grin flooding face and fully enjoying the Mother’s Day season in the pink. I think mother would have approved!
Typically, the handbag that would catch my eye and nicely suit my needs was past my price point. When it was all said and done, I’d end up walking out of a store having settled for something inferior in color and style. Not this time. It’s the Mother’s Day season, and I proudly qualify three times over, I justified to myself.
Being a softie for anything “pink” the handbag I was eyeing was scrumptious. It was smart, savvy, and in a lovely soft shade of my signature color. My heart quickened and fantasy took over. I envisioned myself strutting around with my new casual chic handbag on my arm in style. Besides, “Top Blonde” was written all over I, I reasoned. It was the perfect bag for me in every way and my decision was made in a New York minute. I then meandered over to the checkout counter bubbling with excitement like a kid in a candy store about to indulge in a big lollipop.
“I really shouldn’t be doing this,” I said to, Lucy, the sales representative. Without missing a beat, Lucy said with an assuring smile, “Oh, but color is in this year. Just look at all our handbags in bight spring colors.”
Hum. Glancing at the turquoise, orange, and green handbags lining a shelf on the back wall, I could see she was right. They all looked fabulous.
No sooner had I arrived home with my luscious new pink handbag than the cloud of doubt began taking residence in my head. I should have purchased it in the tan tone instead of pink. It was much more practical.
My dear mom, Helen, deceased now, could tell you practicality wasn’t necessarily my strong suite regarding shopping though she did her best to steer me from my flair for fun and trends to style and class.
After sleeping on my dilemma of whether to exchange my energizing new pink handbag that I loved for the staid but practical tan toned one, I reconsidered my purchase and drove back to the store to see if there were any left. There had been only one pink handbag, but there were three in tan…and they were all still available.
The sales lady that assisted me had been working on the day I made my initial purchase and was surprised to see me back for an exchange. She had seen how jazzed I had been about the pink handbag. I explained that while I loved the pink one and that it would work well with my wardrobe, I thought it was time to be more practical. After all, I was now sixty-something, for goodness sakes, and a grandmother!
We did the exchange, and I drove home with my new tan toned handbag. It was the same style as the pink one, but the fun factor was missing. It was definitely suitable but minus the flair.
When I went to use my new handbag I carefully removed the tags and began filling it with my purse items. It was then I noticed that the stitching on the inside of one of the zippered pockets hadn’t been stitched. Anything put into that pocket would soon disappear into the bowels of the handbag and never be seen again.
Being handy with a needle and thread I knew I could stitch it up but that wasn’t the point. No more settling. Maybe it was time to get into the spirit of pink after all. The only thing left to do was go back to the store and see if the one in my favorite color was still there.
My visit back to the store this time was swift. In no time I was walking back to my Jeep with a silly grin flooding face and fully enjoying the Mother’s Day season in the pink. I think mother would have approved!
