The Purse Whisperer

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My friend D rarely buys purses. (She’s more a shoe and coat person.) So it was exciting when she emailed a picture of her new handbag.

I liked it…really liked it…so much that I went to visit it at Hudson’s Bay.

I examined it. Carried it around the purse department and even took out the paper stuffing to see how it would hang if it wasn’t stuffed like a Thanksgiving turkey.

But I didn’t buy it. Although I really liked the purse, I know that I can be influenced by peer pressure. (I’m lucky I hung with a nice group in high school or I might have gotten into some serious trouble.) Did I want the handbag just because D had it?

“I want your purse,” I said the next time I talked to D. (So much for introspection about my propensity to be guided by peer pressure!)

“Then buy it.”

“You won’t think I’m some creepy purse stalker?”

She sighed. “Just get the purse if you love it that much.”

I’m calling it my post-strike treat.

D called the next day.

“I bought our purse,” I said.

“I knew you would. It’s lovely.”

“Lovely and on sale! Mine was $65 less than yours.”

“No!!!”

“Yes,” I said. “Clearly the shopping gods like me more than they like you.”

She grumbled a bit.

“Have you bought anything else I might like?” I asked.

Three’s a Crowd

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My sailor doesn’t like going to movies or restaurants alone.

I don’t mind it.

When I’m in need of something delicious and I’m on my own, my go to spot is Pagliacci’s. It’s everyone’s favourite. (Get there early, or you’ll be lining up out the door.)

Tables are jam-packed in the small space and the wait staff fairly fly out of the kitchen with baskets of bread, carafes of wine and plates of steaming pasta.

There’s so much energy that it’s a comfortable place for a solo meal.

I’ve never had a bad experience there…until today.

I was next in line (party of one), followed by a nervous-looking couple. A table for four became available.

“Just give me a minute to get your table ready,” said the hostess, grabbing three menus and ducking back into the restaurant.

Table? I glanced at the couple behind me.

Moments later she came back. “Follow me.”

We did.

She’d moved the two tables that made up the table for four apart–about three inches–to give us a semblance of privacy.

We sat at our separate tables but because we were so close I couldn’t not hear every word of their conversation. It was stilted and awkward–typical first date stuff.

I got a crick in my neck from looking away from them so I didn’t loom like a Victorian chaperone, but I’m pretty sure I didn’t fool anyone. We all knew I was the third wheel on their romantic bicycle.

We had to give up the pretence when we realized I had the sugar, which she needed for her coffee and they had the pepper, which I wanted for my linguine.

When their talk turned to lotteries, she asked me if I knew how many numbers you pick for a 6-49 ticket. Embarrassingly, I was able to jump right into the conversation as if I’d been following every word.

I hope their next date is better. I don’t plan on attending, which should be a giant leap in the right direction.

Oh and the gorgeous pale mauve purse? I saw it, loved it, wanted it and didn’t buy it. It’s a small victory in my quest to stop the mindless shopping.

A Purse Person

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My name is Nanette and I have too many purses.

Getting ready for our date day, I narrowed my choice to four. Unless you’re a purse person, you likely won’t see many differences between each of the shortlisted handbags. Believe me, they are quite different.

In the absence of a girlfriend to help me choose, I resorted to desperate measures–I asked my sailor.

“Well,” he said, “I’ll bring my backpack to carry everything, so pick the smallest one.”

He looked quite pleased with himself.

“Forget about the size. Which one looks best?”

“Okay,” he pointed to a large tote. “That one.”

“Really? Why?”

“I like it more than the others, especially that small black one over there.”

Sigh.

“When we went to Powell River, you told me to take the small black one because it’s so much nicer than the tote you picked today.”

“Oh.”

My name is Nanette and I have too many purses and a sailor who doesn’t understand the importance of accessorizing.

35 Shopping Days to Christmas!

003011I spent a relaxing afternoon at the mall this weekend. In the absence of hobbies, going to the mall is how I unwind. I love my time there and I’ve never had a bad experience while shopping (well, except for the time I caught my finger in a fitting room door–ouch!)

You’d think Christmas was next week with all the decorations and the crowds scurrying about. I like Christmas as much as the next person, but frankly I get a bit tired of the trees, lights and holly once it’s been up over a month. (Mistletoe is a different kettle of fish. If my sailor was home, I’d happily hang mistletoe over every doorway in the house and leave it there until it wilted.)

In keeping with my recent vow of austerity, I was very frugal. I got a couple of books at Chapters. (I haven’t visited a library since I read about a woman who found LIVE bedbugs in a library book.) I picked up a stylish fleece jacket for the dog at Winners. It’s soft and cozy and . . . blue. I could admit they were all out of anything pink in her size and her sweaters are getting a bit thread bare, but my story is that dressing my girl dog in blue fleece indicates I don’t support gender stereotypes.

I also stopped at Danier. I have handbag issues (I can’t resist buying them) and Danier has beautiful leather purses at reasonable prices. If that isn’t enough, they have amazing sales–all the time. With a closet full of black bags, I craved colour.

Danier also has exceedingly patient sales associates and a wonderful exchange policy.

I know this because I tested their tolerance over the past couple of weeks. First I bought a structured brown bag. Upon consideration, I realized I prefer something softer and squishier. Back it went–exchanged for a burnt orange pebbled leather bag. Although I wanted colour, the bright pumpkin was a little too much for me. Back it went–exchanged for a black satchel with snazzy gold chain handles. I took it home and realized how many black bags I already have. Back it went–exchanged for a plain camel handbag with a shoulder strap for when I need both hands free to scoop up a litter of fluffy puppies or to help someone frail cross the street.

I’m definitely going to keep this one . . . absolutely . . . I think.