the other day i asked my girfriend if she had any hand lotion and she said "sure honey, in my purse, right over there."
oh, this purse, or any purse of my friend jo's. the purse itself is always exquisite, and lucky us, sometimes she tires of them and hands them down to her girlfriends who have no problem at all nabbing a gently used coach, louis vuitton, or kate spade.
but the inside of the purse...oh the inside!
a photo of the inside of this purse should become an album cover. it's not necessarily what is in there, it's HOW things are in there. the leather cosmetics pouch is snuggled next to a tiny pad and pen, the breath mints stand tall with their cheeks pressed up against a tube of lipstick, a smart and snappy wallet finds comfort relaxing upon a clickity tin of credit cards, the small hairbrush is lying face to face with hairspray...this purse has every thing a woman could need or want and every thing has it's place and every thing fits; fits perfectly.
and that is why i want to live there. first, having a home desingned and constructed by gucci, prada or dolce & gabbana would provide fashionable reassurance that this home would last forever. only the finest materials and shiniest gussets are considered and used. no skimping on quality.
second, i envy the idea that everything in there has it's place, and leaving for a moment or longer won't compromise that spot upon return. imagine having your own little silken pouch that you slip into and out of, just like a cell phone. it's your spot all yours and always will be.
weird metaphor, isn't it. but as september 8th comes closer hour by hour i find myself haunted and intrigued by lots of odd things, and i wonder about my place, and if i will come back to it in the same way i left it.
and i want wonder if my spot will last forever.
No comments:
Post a Comment