A Bag is a Bag, or Not
When your fifteen-year-old knock off ‘Balenziaga’ bites the dust, you cry a little. (Canal Street, NYC score, I had two of them. One orange, and the green). I love, love, loved them. When the bag’s ‘leather’ literally starts peeling at the START of your fancy vacation, and your friends relentlessly make fun of you…what they didn’t understand is how loyal and practical that bag had been. How many gazillion trips it got you through, and how it was the PERFECT accessory for years, literally irreplaceable. I didn’t care that it was an imitation at all, un phased by their giggles, and teasing. I am mostly non-materialistic, but when your bff delivers a gorgeous black leather replacement to your hotel room (her hotel), you’re grateful for the stunning, kind gesture and surprise. She has in fact gifted you with many, many irreplaceable, gorgeous designer bags over the years that you will never, ever part with. So, green ‘Balenziaga’ knock-off reluctantly it was time to go, bye-bye, see ya for good.
Our international travels, memories, trains, planes, buses, automobile, subway rides and adventures together will remain fondly forever in my heart. I was NEVER embarrassed by you, okay slightly annoyed when you were literally loosing your pleather skin.
I don’t need fancy, material stuff…but all the cherished fond memories, those I’ll keep.
And the friendships, well they are priceless and irreplaceable.