Swoon-worthy bag I like nice bags. There are very few females (and some males) who do not, I would think. The way I justify buying them, is with the fact that I will carry that one nice bag for years. Three minimum. I spend months picking one out. It is an investment to me.
My most recent purchase was a pretty, tan, leather shoulder bag with a large, round, gold MK connecting the strap to the body. Micheal Kors is one of my favorite designers, so I was extremely happy with myself upon purchasing this bag.
The other day in the grocery store this sweet lady told me how much she liked my bag. Here I am preening like a peacock because someone complimented me on my rather expensive, designer bag. So proud of myself for picking out a bag that catches the eye without being tacky. {{patting self on back}}
Then she asked me if it were my initials on the bag. I stood there with my mouth gaping open for a moment in disbelief, and while I don't remember my exact words, it was somewhere along the lines of "Pardon" or "Excuse me?" or maybe "What the hell are you talking about??"
When I gathered my wits enough to respond in a respectable manner, I told her that no, they are not my initials, but the designers initials. His logo. His mark upon the world! Her response: "Oh, how cute it would be if it were your initials!"
Well.
I smiled, mumbled my agreement, and paid for my groceries. My tiara rang as it hit the bottom of the trashcan I passed on the way to the car.
My most recent purchase was a pretty, tan, leather shoulder bag with a large, round, gold MK connecting the strap to the body. Micheal Kors is one of my favorite designers, so I was extremely happy with myself upon purchasing this bag.
The other day in the grocery store this sweet lady told me how much she liked my bag. Here I am preening like a peacock because someone complimented me on my rather expensive, designer bag. So proud of myself for picking out a bag that catches the eye without being tacky. {{patting self on back}}
Then she asked me if it were my initials on the bag. I stood there with my mouth gaping open for a moment in disbelief, and while I don't remember my exact words, it was somewhere along the lines of "Pardon" or "Excuse me?" or maybe "What the hell are you talking about??"
When I gathered my wits enough to respond in a respectable manner, I told her that no, they are not my initials, but the designers initials. His logo. His mark upon the world! Her response: "Oh, how cute it would be if it were your initials!"
Well.
I smiled, mumbled my agreement, and paid for my groceries. My tiara rang as it hit the bottom of the trashcan I passed on the way to the car.
Michael Kors logo- not Brooke's initials or logo
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