A new bag is much like a newborn baby: You spend months pondering your purchase, literally pregnant with desire for the bag. Once he is delivered, typically via Fedex, he arrives in a carefully taped and packed box, just yearning to be unwrapped. You let him free, and he wants to be held, he wants you to carry him around. He never wants to leave your side. This two way train of over the top affection only lasts so long, and then he wants you to show him off, "Instagram me, feed me, take me to dinner, take me shopping" And as a proud owner of a new 3.1 Philip Lim Pashli Satchel, I could only do those things.
So upon Phil's (so fondly nicknamed by my mother) first day of living, we headed to the park.
You have to keep him safe by your side. You have to worry about what he's touching, what he's sitting in, what he may or may not be allergic too, when you have to change his diaper shoulder strap...
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| (From left, Marc Jacobs, vintage, Lulu Frost, watch - from BP at Nordstrom, and two skinny vintage cuffs) |
And then, Phil got a little tired and decided to plop down on the swing to take a rest. He whined about how hot it was and then wanted me to push him. (He wanted to feel the breeze through his handles as he held on for his dear life via his zipper pulls.)
In addition, I've always been intrigued by the timing it takes from obtaining a new bag, treating it like a precious gem, and then becoming so familiar with it that you throw it around as if it were never a small child. Is this truly the lifespan of the bags childhood into adulthood ? Or in a more realistic sense, I suppose we become so accustomed to it that it no longer seems to need any special treatment?
I'm wearing a black tee from Target, Zara faux denim linen shorts, Forever 21 sandals, and an H&M leopard scarf (that I DIY'd by sewing pom-pom trim on the edges)
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