Purses Bad
There are only two ways to go through life: constantly preparing for all possibilities, good and bad, or throwing up your hands and accepting you have no control over anything and the best defense is no offense so just like come @ me world.
That’s a really hyperbolic way of saying that I’m not into purses right now. Maybe my shoulder muscles are getting weaker (doubtful; I could still beat all of you in arm wrestling, just ask me sometime) or maybe my bag is getting heavier (possible; it feels like the actual weight of the world on my impressively strong shoulders) or, most likely, summer makes me want to throw off all my responsibilities and what is a purse but a manifestation of your responsibilities?
The purse I’m using right now for the majority of my day-to-day needs is a good one. It’s big, and solid, and has pockets for the stuff I want to secure, and it fits the essential items that I will admit I don’t like leaving the house without: laptop, wallet, iPhone and charging cord, umbrella, four NARS lipsticks I never wear but am convinced I will someday, a collection of crumpled receipts I can’t throw away because of “tax reasons” (I have literally no idea what that means), boarding passes from flights I took four months ago, more pens than one human being could ever use, and some gum. The straps are nice and thin but strong and it swings easily over my shoulder. It’s great. I’m glad I bought it. Taking it to the office is a pleasant experience. But also, I hate this purse with a fiery passion and resent its presence in my life.
Carrying nothing has become so important to me that I have been truly reckless: knowing I should carry an umbrella, for example, but being so committed to this new “fuck it” mentality that I tell myself it couldn’t hurt to run down the block in the Biblical downpour guaranteed to begin as soon as I leave the house. Or knowing that the bar I’m going to will check IDs and deciding to put my passport in my pocket like I’m just asking to have my identity stolen.
Here is the perfect list of items to bring with you when (if) you have to leave your house: keys, ONE credit card (honestly who needs more than one), ONE debit card (same), a bit of cash for the dumb places that don’t take cards, a cell phone if you must, headphones for music. Other than that, all you need is the feeling of lightness that comes from swinging your arms freely and knowing you are not leaning lopsided to accommodate what feels like a life in a big leather square. Everything should fit in the two back pockets of your favorite jeans. Anything more is superfluous and, frankly, showing off. Like, you’re going to be out of the house for a long time and your phone might die so you want to take your iPhone charger? NO. THE UNIVERSE CAN FUNCTION WITHOUT YOU AND IF YOUR FRIENDS REALLY LOVE YOU THEY’LL SENSE THAT YOU ARE OUT AND ABOUT AND HAPPY TO BE FREE IN EVERY SENSE OF THE WORD. Or, like, charge your phone before you leave, I don’t know.
I mean, I’ll admit there have been times I’ve done this and then regretted not bringing a book or lip balm or some shit. And sometimes when I’m out bag-less and I buy something small but too big to carry or for a pocket (probably a book, let’s be real, I have a problem with spending money on print media) I’ll kick myself for having to accept a plastic bag. But that regret does not outweigh the incredibly powerful sense of freedom and, strangely, self-righteousness, as though I’m getting away with something. Which is weird, because carrying a purse is mostly an elective thing and a totally neutral choice in terms of bad vs. good?
I don’t know. What I know is, I’ll do anything to not carry a purse for the majority of my days this summer, and you should join me. Let’s not carry anything. Let’s burn all our possessions. No, wait, too far, keep your possessions, just leave them at home when you go out.
What superfluous fashion items are you shrugging off this summer? Purses, pants, shoes? When it comes to what you could not wear the possibilities are endless!