Swayed To Suede My New Suede Handbag
All I wanted was a handbag. Quick in and out. The dog had eaten the handle from one of my meagre collection, my little child had poured juice into another one, and I had allowed chocolate to melt in a third bag. There was a work-related event one evening the following week, which, it was made abundantly clear, I was expected to attend.
I slipped out of the office during my lunch break with every intention of getting something more-or-less acceptable with little or no fuss. The saleslady was ever so obliging. What, I asked naively, would be a good overall kind of style that would LOOK acceptable under most circumstances?
I picked up a few, turned them over, stroked them without much interest, then looked about vaguely.
“What about this little black suede handbag,” asked the lady?
It pricked my interest immediately. I touched it, I stroked it, pressed it, fondled it – and I was hooked!
“Suede” and “Persueded!” My New Suede Handbag!
It was perfect! Neat and sleek, big enough for the essentials, not too big for a dressy occasion. Neat little pockets to divide contents. But it wasn’t the style that I was hooked on. It was the suede. My suede handbag instantly became my new best friend, my sensual comforter!
I hugged it, I clutched it, I squeezed it all the way back to the office. The traffic and the pedestrian crush was harsh – but my suede handbag was gentle. The lunchtime noise was jarringly irritating, but my suede handbag was soothing and comforting. The work environment was unforgiving, but my suede handbag nuzzled me reassuringly. Sleek as a panther, gentle as a kitten
Back at the office, I placed it down gently – then moved it, and moved it again. Nowhere seemed safe enough. I spent the afternoon being as over protective as a new mother. “Just leave those on my desk, but mind my suede handbag!” “I appreciate the coffee, but DON’T put it near my suede handbag!”
I wouldn’t say that I’m obsessive about it, but if the dog attempts to chew my new suede handbag the way he did that old bag, he is very likely to become a suede handbag himself! (Tempting thought! He’d be so cuddly, with no bad habits! No, don’t go there…anyway, he wouldn’t match much.)
So there you have it. All I wanted was a handbag, a purse, something to clutch relentlessly at a function that wouldn’t be fun. Instead, I acquired a secret friend, a comforter for any occasion. I wasn’t the life of the party, but I will say this: I purred my way through that function with a new-found confidence that amazed my colleagues.
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