Hi. I’m Cathy and I’m a purse-aholic.
I have PBS. For you educational TV types, it’s not what you think. Rather, a severe case of Purse Buying Syndrome.
Though now in remission, a recent invitation to a purse party sent me into a panic. I had to stop, take deep breaths and remind myself how far I’d come in recovery. Over the years, I never could find the perfect purse, though not for lack of trying. When I spotted a good one, it always hung on some other gal’s shoulder. But that never stopped me from purchasing a bevy of bags. “You have to hit the jackpot sometime,” I told my inner shopper. Soft leather beauties, tapestry totes, crocheted clutches, straw sacks. All with fabulous linings, zippered hiding places, and interesting handles. I was smitten with each one. For a while.
Then last year, the handbags had multiplied beyond the storage space in my bedroom. So, I sorted through, making some semi-tough decisions. Some went to a friend. The rest found homes at the Salvation Army. My new goal? Downsize. To purchase a summer purse, a winter purse, and a fun bag. Plenty, right?
Goal in sight, I shopped and bought a couple winners, receiving my favorite as a birthday gift from my daughter. But somehow, I inadvertently added several new fun bags to that group. The purple satin lining in one romanced me to the checkout counter before I could protest. “Oh, you clever lining, you!” A Navy-themed bag worked its way into my hand when I wasn’t aware, pleading for purchase. (What if I needed Navy? Like a good Boy Scout, I always prefer to be prepared.)
All of these purses were wonderful, timeless designs that I could use forever. At least, that’s what I told myself. So when my friend extended the purse party invitation, I had the wisdom (for once) to decline. Enough’s enough. I’m in a good purse place and dare not tempt fate. My PBS is under control. One purse at a time.
Then the other day my cousin, Sam, told me about another syndrome common to all handbag holders. PDD. Or Purse Digging Disorder. She showed me the remedy. A charming beaded hook that hung on the rim of her purse which, when pulled away, brought her attached keys along for the ride.
The sparkly thing jingled, its crystals twinkled, and beads shone seductively. What an adorable invention. What other colors and styles could one find with a little research? I suddenly remembered how annoying it was to dig through my purse for keys.
Hi. I’m Cathy and I have Purse Digging Disorder. (Also.)