Everything I know, I learned from bags
By Jareliese Mauro
Like a movie frozen in midframe, I was in a daze. There it was, in a fetid corner in Manalili, laid the "Day Dreamer." A perfect Juicy Couture faux pas bag from China. I knew it was such a risk but for some reason I couldn't move. . All I could think of was how it would look smashing with prim pumps and chic carryalls. I baptized her as Fifi (yes, I name my favorite bags. Jessica Simpson I will make fast friends). She was a ready-to-wear, larger-than-life accessory with a major league, screen-siren appeal. She was an embroidered tote with velvety skin and its embouchement fashionably stitched with a fancy ribbon. Out of this mire of despair, I bought it, forgetting the nugget of wisdom that it was an just imitation bag. For a short while, she was the cradle of my feminine goods but after some wear-and-tear activites, she began to fall apart. I thought her life span would be longer than the usual. After a trip to Manila, a girl's night out, a mallwide sale, luncheon with the office kahunas, there were loose threads waiting to be tugged and the zipper got busted. What I all learned from finishing blow: if it's too good to be true, it probably is. A friend commented, "there has to be a catch when a tag of an imitation bag shouts just 20% of its original price." So be careful. It's true. There is more to appearance.
This was the second clincher. At age 22, with an increased purchasing power, I decided to buy a bag that's heart-wrenchingly stylish, a symbol of a revolting alpha female superiorty. Noe, the beauty that brought light into my wardrobe, is Robert Wilson's (designer) iconic shape bag. A Louis Vuitton original. It had gained a lot of attention since its design first came out in Philippine shores. "Everytime you show that off, it's just like you're flashing a lot of bread. You must have struck it rich," an officemate couldn't help but notice. I was buzzing with excitement but I didn't want Noe to get scratched or dirty so I just used it on special occasions. Like an expensive china, this product of artistic temperament was only laid out to be admired. Noe wasn't able to live up to its utilitarian purpose. It had spent too much time in the closet until it's being the "IT" bag had gone its expiration date. Soon, her presence wasn't as becoming as it used to be. Lesson learned for this nine days' wonder: Enjoy it while you still can. You're in a sorrier state if you don't revel in with what you for flimsy reasons.
Caitlin, was a no-nonsense, run-of-the-mill, brandless messenger bag. To the fashion gurus, the sight of this social naysayer is as bad as a hangover.
Regardless, Caitlin has one key trait-- she's soooo handy. Her lifelong dedication to containing my treasures, messy soccer shoes, my training materials has been impressive. I've abused and misused her, left her in the rain, ransacked her with tons of clothes and still she goes down in the record books for being a dependable buddy. But, boy, did she punctuate the night when I had to attend an emergency cocktail party to bag a huge account for our company. My chic ensemble didn't match the shabby bum bag. Likewise, Caitlin didn't mingle with kahunas over a VIP-only luncheon. She was such a fashion misfit compared to my tailored power suit. I guess I learned by rote that no matter how comfortable you are with something, it has got to give inorder for you to get what you want. Sometimes, you have to get a hang of using a teeny tiny tote and give up bringing all your essentials just to look like you fit in in a fancy party. And sometimes, you have to lug a drab-looking heavy attache case to a buiness meeting. The trick is to work on this excess baggage for one's benefit.
Like a movie frozen in midframe, I was in a daze. There it was, in a fetid corner in Manalili, laid the "Day Dreamer." A perfect Juicy Couture faux pas bag from China. I knew it was such a risk but for some reason I couldn't move. . All I could think of was how it would look smashing with prim pumps and chic carryalls. I baptized her as Fifi (yes, I name my favorite bags. Jessica Simpson I will make fast friends). She was a ready-to-wear, larger-than-life accessory with a major league, screen-siren appeal. She was an embroidered tote with velvety skin and its embouchement fashionably stitched with a fancy ribbon. Out of this mire of despair, I bought it, forgetting the nugget of wisdom that it was an just imitation bag. For a short while, she was the cradle of my feminine goods but after some wear-and-tear activites, she began to fall apart. I thought her life span would be longer than the usual. After a trip to Manila, a girl's night out, a mallwide sale, luncheon with the office kahunas, there were loose threads waiting to be tugged and the zipper got busted. What I all learned from finishing blow: if it's too good to be true, it probably is. A friend commented, "there has to be a catch when a tag of an imitation bag shouts just 20% of its original price." So be careful. It's true. There is more to appearance.
This was the second clincher. At age 22, with an increased purchasing power, I decided to buy a bag that's heart-wrenchingly stylish, a symbol of a revolting alpha female superiorty. Noe, the beauty that brought light into my wardrobe, is Robert Wilson's (designer) iconic shape bag. A Louis Vuitton original. It had gained a lot of attention since its design first came out in Philippine shores. "Everytime you show that off, it's just like you're flashing a lot of bread. You must have struck it rich," an officemate couldn't help but notice. I was buzzing with excitement but I didn't want Noe to get scratched or dirty so I just used it on special occasions. Like an expensive china, this product of artistic temperament was only laid out to be admired. Noe wasn't able to live up to its utilitarian purpose. It had spent too much time in the closet until it's being the "IT" bag had gone its expiration date. Soon, her presence wasn't as becoming as it used to be. Lesson learned for this nine days' wonder: Enjoy it while you still can. You're in a sorrier state if you don't revel in with what you for flimsy reasons.
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