Handbags & Purses, I Love Handbags, My Favourite Handbag is..

Handbags.  I am obsessed with them.  I have over 100 handbags (thus far) and my life pretty much revolves around them.  To me they are the most revealing fashion accessory that a woman can wear.  When I get introduced to other girls, the first thing I will do is study her handbag… then I will cast judgement on what that particular handbag means… and then seal the deal with my very own critical evaluation on that person’s entire life.  All based on the style, colour and appropriateness of her handbag.  And I never get it wrong – a women’s handbag is the mirror of who she really is.
 
My latest handbag and I attended a distant cousin’s wedding last week and I was seated at a table with eight other ladies (ahh, so many handbags to analyse) and one poor lost solitary man.  This poor lost man sat next to an empty chair and sitting at the place of this empty chair was truly the most wondrous handbag I had ever seen.  It sparkled in the candle light and looked almost to be made of glass.  But who did it belong to?
 
The rest of us had each propped up our own handbags at various angles of placement on the table in front of where we sat.  It was like a Best in Show for handbags… all vying to take the honour of Most Fabulous handbag of the table!  None of us knowing anyone there, we clinked our glasses and said hello… then we all sat and waited for the owner of the mysterious handbag to return.  Or had she even arrived?  Why was this delightful handbag sitting there?  I decided to be brave and ask the nice quiet man.  He shrugged and said his partner had stepped outside – some sort of ‘phone home’ issue he muttered.
 
My own handbag was very fashionable.  Modern, yet with its retro vintage-style subtlety and a perfect pink, it matched my dress with precision.  I would be winning the handbag contest if it weren’t for that handbag.  The other ladies had all tried hard I could see, but they all paled in comparison.  I tried to study this perfect handbag…to decipher what sort of woman would own such a treasure.  She would be slim, and pretty.  Probably blonde, although something about the dark colour of the glass beading could mean a redhead.  She would be delicate and smile a lot and once she returned to the table, we would be friends!
 
I moved my handbag to one side as the waiters came round to discuss menu options.  And just as the food began to be served, a new face appeared at our table.  At last, we all thought.  But it was a man…  his name was Roger and he was a man!  A short, fat balding man belonged to that glorious, exquisite handbag!  We all stared in confused disbelief… my pretty pink handbag flopped onto its side like a wounded swan.