Kiss This One Goodbye

This has nothing to do with handbags, but I feel compelled to comment on today's Cubs v. Sox game. I am a lifelong Chicago Cub fan and even through 26 years of marriage to a White Sox fan (our first date was to the old Comiskey Park), I did not convert to Soxism. Until today.

I played a lot of softball in my earlier years (even played on the U of I women's team) and have caught a few games. I can remember one game in high school where I blocked the plate, without the ball, and the runner came charging down the line, ran me over, our heads collided, she scored, and I practically saw stars. I probably had a concussion but this was in the pre-historic days when you didn't run to the doctor or search Web MD for everything so I just suffered through it.

My point is this--keeping the runner from scoring is the catcher's job. Scoring is the runner's job. When they are both doing their jobs, BAM! AJ Pierzynski was just doing his job. Michael Barrett had no right to haul off and punch him. I don't care what AJ said to him. Cubs have always been lovable losers but if they think they can fight their way out of a losing record, they've lost a fan. You can kiss this one goodbye. . .

A Sea of Red

I should be afraid--very, very afraid. As I look at the number of red handbags surrounding me in my office, it suddenly dawns on me that people might think I'm, well, that I'm a member of the Red Hat Society or some other color-centric group.

But, no. I just had a good week finding red handbags, even though my opportunities to scout have been greatly restricted by my mother's new medical appointments--physical therapy--in addition to her other appointments and everyone else's. And if you ever have gone to therapy yourself or taken someone, you know you just don't go once--you go three times a week! Needless to say, I am not doing a lot of writing right now and not a lot of hunting for bags. But Friday and Saturday were good--no one had any appointments so I was able to zoom off on my own.

The weekend's booty included four red bags in addition to several other interesting bags. Yes, FOUR! They were all shapes and eras--a 1950s handbag, a 60s small suede shoulder bag made in Italy, a hard-side patent leather shoulder bag from a division of Etra--33 East--probably from the 70s, and--best of all--a Mark Cross shoulder bag made in Italy. Wow!

As I go on my treasure hunts, it never ceases to amaze me how much "stuff" there is in this country. Our homes are miniature receiving docks where we take in all of the unnecessary things we've been convinced we need. Garage sales, church rummage sales, and thrift store donations (and now eBay) are where we Americans purge our overload.

But we continue to collect. At least a lot of us do. I recently heard a woman say, "I don't have any collections in my house." Well, goody for her. She must live alone and be very disciplined. Everyone in my house collects something: books, Ghostbusters toys, old movie scripts, pottery, clocks. The cat even had a collection of different color drinking straws that she hid under the throw rugs. Our collections give us comfort and a sense of uniqueness. Me--I'm just seeing red right now and loving it!

P.S. If anyone out there is a member of the Antique Purse Collector's Society, I'd appreciate knowing if you find the membership valuable. I'm thinking of joining, but at $25 I'd like some feedback first. Thanks!

What's in a Name?

"What's in a name? That which we call a rose
By any other word would smell as sweet."

--Spoken by Juliet to Romeo in "Romeo and Juliet"

Juliet would be lying if she lived today and said she would still love a Louis Vuitton bag just for itself, for its workmanship. It had better have that "LV" logo or the girl's not going to buy it!

The fashion world is obsessed with big-name bags: Hermes, Chanel, Judith Leiber, Gucci, and more. The bigger the name the bigger the price tag. Ordinary women and girls are even paying good money for the fabulous fakes, just to get that cherished name or logo on their arms.

That quest for the ultimate name is also present in the world of vintage bags, of course. What collector doesn't yearn for scoring an early Whiting & Davis?

But only looking for the big-names blinds you to the no-names. It's like only having crushes on the airhead, popular athletes in school and ignoring the solid, somewhat geeky guys. But this week I eschewed the big-name hunt for the no-name bags. My weekly hunt scored a few good examples of vintage bags, and my pleasure with them was not diminished the least by the fact their makers were unknown.

These "orphan" bags, as I like to call them, have everything going for them but a name. The one pictured here is a unique straw bag with a rope handle and wooden beads. It's unique for its twin sides--each side has the same lovely decorative metal twist lock, beaded flap, and inside pocket. It couldn't be any cuter if it had a well-known pedigree.

"It's Got to Sing!"

As one of the network reps of the Society of Children's Book Writers and Illustrators (SCBWI) for my area, I spent time last week getting ready for the guest writer we had invited to speak to our group. Verla Kay is an outstanding picture book writer, with seven published books and more on the way. I expected her to be a good speaker, but I didn't know that what she had to say would speak to my handbag hobby just as much as it did to my writing.

Two rules stood out from Verla's "15 Secrets about Writing Good Picture Books" talk:

1) Be patient. It still takes Verla YEARS to get a 32-page picture book of 150 words or so written and longer to get it in print.
2) Keep revising. You're not done until each word is the right word. "It's got to sing!"

It dawned on me that I make the same mistakes with collecting as I do with my writing--I'm totally impatient and I hate to revise. My impatience leads me to waste a lot of time thinking today's going to be the day I find the perfect bag to add to my collection and then trying to make it happen. Then, I hate to go home empty handed so I buy a lot of miscellaneous bags. A lot. And because I hate to revise, I have a lot of trouble letting go of those bags that don't fit in my collection.

Verla has found a niche in writing on historical topics in short, terse verse. She has defined her writing. My collecting lacks definition and discipline. Discipline--the thing that will keep me from buying a whole bunch of designer and name-brand handbags just because they're a deal. Definition--concentrating on a decade, a manufacturer, a style. I'm not sure I'm ready to limit myself like that yet, but I do need to build the discipline to stick to the vintage bags. And no matter how much I love handbags, it just can't be a good deal--it's got to sing.

As I gather these new skills, I'll be selling the bargains that have no place in my collection that I unearthed while treasurehunting . Don't get me wrong--there's nothing wrong with Tommy Hilfiger, Reaction, Perlina, Stone Mountain, Sak--they just don't sing to me. Check out my listings on eBay (RealDealPlus) for some of the castoffs. While they don't sing to me, they sure are cute, though!