Handbags always fit

Hobos
Clutches

Today is the final weekday of summer break. A bittersweet day, indeed! I spent some time over the last few weeks trying on my clothes, but it only occurred to me recently to try my shoes. Little did I know that relaxin (a hormone emitted during pregnancy to loosen up things in anticipation of eventual birth) would effect my feet so much. Most of my pumps and some of my flats are snug. I'm not swollen so I know it is from other shifts that are occurring. And with so many of my fall favorites no longer fitting me, I am left feeling frustrated. At least handbags are always the right size! Above are some bags I'm coveting at the moment.

Styling Schoolboy Satchels

On CBS Pittsburgh, I have another piece up about styling schoolboy satchels. You can read it here. Here's a link to more of my articles for CBS Pittsburgh.

From the depths of my closet

The first time I spent a chunk of change on a single bag was in 2006. Up until that point I focused a lot of my interest in handbags onto amassing quantity from thrift stores,, Gabriel Brothers, and various clearance bins.

The Michelle Franz bag purchase was thanks to a generous coupon code posted on Gretchen's Closet. It brought the price down to something reasonable enough for my grad student budget. But I soon realized that the bright red color I selected (over black or purple... both of which I still sometimes long for) was harder to wear than anticipated. I didn't want to match it with other reds (since reds are so varied anyway) and I wasn't bold enough to try to pretend red was a "new neutral." Still I held onto the bag for sentimental reasons. And then I kind of forgot about it. I mean I knew it was there but I never reached for it.

Well last weekend I was digging around, trying to figure out what to bring with my on my upcoming trip, and I saw the old familiar Handmaid by Michelle Franz dustbag. I took it out and remembered why I bought it in the first place. The shiny gold hardware. The chain strap. The seaming of the front pocket. I carried it that night (ootd to come) and resolved to use this bag more often in the new year.  I'm bold enough (or at least all out of give-a-craps enough) at this point in my life to treat it like a new neutral.

Wherein I share my greatest score

Vintage candles (not the greatest score but fun)

I have posted before about gratitude. And I've documented my good luck in the past. This time of year it seems important especially to count blessings and be grateful. I feel a little silly sharing this story of material serendipity when so many are in need. During the holiday season it seems appropriate instead to focus on giving back. But my blog began as a way to archive consumerism and catalog deals. For that reason, it is only fitting that I share one of my more epic and atypical scores.

When I returned from my conference trip to New Orleans (which I will post about when things are less busy to share professorial conference fashions), I headed to my parents' house to spend time with them during Thanksgiving week. I was eager to catch up with my siblings and help my mom with preparations for the holiday season.

One afternoon while I was out running errands, I stopped into my favorite hometown antique store. Monongahela and New Eagle have many of them along Main Street. And they are treasure troves of old furniture, books, costume jewelry, and vintage glassware.* This time of year I like to peruse the  holiday decor to find small gifts and seasonal trinkets.

This particular shop (called Big Harry's) is run by my now-retired third grade schoolteacher. It is located in a converted house near the river with a detached shed and porches stuffed to the gills with wares. Once you get inside you have to be careful because of all the fragile goods. Room by room, there are interesting things to be found in every corner, from the floor to the ceiling and tucked into drawers and cabinets. I browse this store methodically, trying to take it all in as best I can.

On this trip I was hoping mostly to find small, thoughtful extras to put in stockings or with requested gifts. There were many other browsers so I found myself feeling a little claustrophobic. I took sanctuary upstairs. I found a room decorated with antique hand mirrors and silver plated vanity trays, full of women's clothing, linens, and accessories. In the corner I spotted a stack of handbags on a table. As I got closer I noticed that they seemed to be of nicer quality leather. And a few were recognizable brands. Being a purse nerd, I could discern that many of them looked authentic. And buried among the fray I spotted a shiny gold chain strap attached to a lambskin leather bag, quilted with such precision and care that my heart began to quicken. I turned it over to see the iconic interlocking of Cs that could only mean one thing: Chanel.

Chanel or perhaps one of its many impersonators. Surely something so fancy couldn't be real for its tagged price (the cost of Chinese take out for two).

The mining town where I grew up is beautiful in its own humble, "SWPA rust belt," post-industrial sort of way. It is only an hour from where I live now. And I love going there to watch the leaves turn color during the fall. I'd stack the fiery orange summer sunsets up against those found in the most glamorous, expensive, and exotic locales worldwide.** I'd defend it fiercely to critics and outsiders because my sense of place when I am "home" looms large. When we learn the depth (and even irrationality) of Leslie Knope's love for Pawnee on Parks and Recreation, my throat chokes up because I relate. Still, one thing the Mon Valley is not is fancy. Sure there are some nicer houses and beautiful scenery. It has a great deal of history and hefty helpings of small town pride. Like most places, there are people who live more comfortably than others, for whom the exodus of stable, blue collar, union jobs didn't hark forward the difficulty that many Mon Valley residents now face. But the majority of people in my home town would balk at the thought of spending more than the cost of a nice, sit-down, paper napkin dinner on something as silly as a handbag. And with good reason. As much as I might personally adore and collect handbags, even I recognize that there is something  frivolous innately about spending a lot of money on an object that... holds your money.

So the possibilities of: (1) a New Eagle/Mon City resident owning Chanel but (2) caring so little about the funds invested to procure such a bag that they'd (3) give it to their local resale shop with no strings attached was a bit far-fetched. And my inner pragmatist took hold. After handling the bag, observing aspects of its hardware and closures, taking mental notes but no photographs, I left the store, leaving it behind.

As I headed home I had a nagging sale goggles-induced feeling of "what if?" The interior stamp had worn and my knowledge of authentication was lacking for this brand. But the leather and hardware seemed really nice for a fake. As a person who will never have the budget for Chanel (with its perpetual price increases and my not playing the lottery) I decided it might be worth doing a bit of research.

What I could remember about the bag checked out: flat head screws, the right C going over the left on top and under on bottom, another pair of C's stitched onto the inside flap, vintage maroon interior leather, etc. Still some details worried me and others I plum forgot. The flap had a pointy button snap closure, rather than twist lock. The quilting, though centered and aligned, was only on the front and back of the bag. It didn't extend around the bottom and up the sides. It was a single, not double flap with no exterior back pocket. The chain looped through an interior leather strip rather than via grommets. And the hologram, the authenticity card with serial number, and the "made in france/italy" stamps were no where to be found.

That nagging feeling persisted. So I went back to the store with little to lose. I spoke a bit with my former teacher who assured me it was real. She said the woman who brought it in "only buys the best." I wondered about who that woman might be. What did she do? Where did she live? Did I know her? Why did she get rid of Chanel without recouping funds on the resale market? There were so many questions but I wished to preserve my reputation as 'Jessica, the thoughtful former third-grader, daughter-of-another-schoolteacher from New Eagle.' It kept me from prying. Though I believed that she believed it was real, I was still skeptical. I bought the bag anyway. I figured that the worst case scenario (in which I bought a fake bag) had me still supporting her charming store.

When I got to my parents' house I set it aside, still wrapped in the plastic "thank you" tote with its hand written resale shop receipt. I didn't look at it again until after Thanksgiving. I had fun eating and laughing with family. And I tried to suppress my obsessive tendencies when it comes to these sorts of situations. It was worth the price of a fake bag to know that it would be there for me to pour over once I had the free time.

On Thanksgiving night, after three dinners with three families, I unpacked my belongings and changed into comfy clothes. And finally, with skepticism I looked at the bag. I used a flashlight to really examine the interior. The lining seemed sticky especially within the interior zip pocket. Parts of the pocket wouldn't even open because of the stickiness. When I was researching one of the vintage bags I saw was pictured with a card smothered by deteriorated leather lining. Without one of the major methods of authenticating (card, Chanel stamp, "made in ___," or hologram) it was as good as fake. The wise women of The Purse Forum wouldn't be able to ease my uncertainty without more clues. So I dug around forcefully. I hoped to find the residue of a hologram or something that gave me peace. Eventually I felt a raised rectangle shape embossed onto the inside zip pocket. I ran my fingernail around the edge and it came loose. Upon further inspection it wasn't attached or embossed at all. I was able to unearth something the size of a credit card but covered in black tar. I scraped it a bit ruining my nails in the process but after a little elbow grease, I saw this:

By now it was the wee small hours of Black Friday and I wanted to start squealing. I don't even know why because I am not a Chanel person. I guess the thrill of realizing that my instincts were correct and the rarity of scoring something so costly for so little were enough to provoke material enthusiasm. The next day I photographed the relevant details to make a post in the Authenticate This Chanel thread on TPF. Sure enough, it was deemed real. And similar bags were selling on ebay for more than $1k. So. Ridiculous.

I know nobody likes a braggart but this was a Fashion Hunters caliber find and now my dilemma becomes what to do with it. Part of me wants to keep it because even if it isn't my style it is classic. I will never be able to throw the money at (even vintage) Chanel. And I enjoy deal mythos enough that the bag feels like my personal trophy. But really, who couldn't use the potential ebay flip profits on something more practical? And my flip could support more than just support a local shopkeeper. I could make a donation to the Washington Mission AND buy something pretty/fun. My inner pragmatist is nagging but my inner materialist wants to keep it!

Anyway, if you read all of this you deserve a medal for your attention span! I mostly wanted to catalog it for my own consumerism archives. But I also want to remind you that if you are feeling lucky there is still time to enter my Shabby Apple Dress Giveaway! Entering is easy. And you can do so multiple times!

*Seriously, if you are in the Pittsburgh area, do not underestimate the secondhand offerings of Washington County.
 ** As an adult, I learned that it is the residue of mill and mining pollution that produces the unique orange hue cast upon the puffy summer clouds. Makes me worried about what the Shale drilling will do to the ecosystem, long-term.

Back to School Shopping Wishlist

I'm sure that many of us are lamenting the dog days of summer (as well as its impending, bittersweet conclusion). But for me, August always evokes back to school shopping. Granted I don't actually shop for new school clothes the way I did with my mom as a growing, school-aged child. But I still get excited this time of year. I felt nostalgic enough the other day to buy a cheap pack of crayons and some loss-leader notepads, just because. I love school supplies even if I don't really have a pressing need for anything. I justified the purchase because I know I can give away some of my stockpile to a new neighbor with a daughter in elementary school. I've also to started thinking about my fall wishlist. I can't get my mind off of schoolboy inspired satchel handbags, even if I have no plans to buy any in the immediate future. Still, here are some of my favorites!

Shoulder Bags at Barneys New York
Satchels by BDG

Why does the sea rush to shore? Rapture OOTD

See by Chloé Landscape print dress and Daytripper bag (smaller size in black here)

Charter Club cardigan

Tory Burch Revas

I wore this outfit to dinner with friends then to a rapture party at the home of some other friends on Saturday night. Though I was not hungry at all, the rapture party entailed a "camp" fire pit on which people cooked hot dogs and other foods. There were also a few fierce rounds of corn toss. It was pretty fun!

When I bought this dress, I loved the landscape print. I knew it was meant to be light and whimsical (why else would it include such a pretty lady and a hot air balloon in the composition?) but I was drawn to the darker aspects of the scene. Growing up in Southwestern PA, I found the railroad tracks and rough terrain to evoke the landscape of my industrial/post-industrial childhood. Such scenery has decorated the sets of apocalyptic cinema for decades. I bought this dress because it reminded me of  dystopic fiction so it seemed fitting to wear it on a day that was alleged to be significant, no matter how far-fetched I believed that allegation to be.

Prophesying the end times has become an extremely lucrative career path for some. It is a shame that such a cottage industry of supposedly-devout snake oil salesmen has cropped up around one interpretable Biblical passage. These folks prey upon and profiteer off of the vulnerable and God-fearing. And I hope that at least some of them find their credibility has been compromised after unethically working so many people up into a panicked frenzy.

Which one would you keep?

If you only wanted to keep one...

Marc Jacobs Stam Hobo in Mouse Gray

Pros:

big

neutral

strap fits over shoulders

cool

chain is removable

rare style and color

Cons: 

chain is heavy so I don't bring it out of town

I already have a bag in this color
kind of a black hole (too big to be organized)
not iconic like the regular stam (though I sold my regular stam)

Marc Jacobs Quilted Blake in Mouse Gray

Pros:

easy to stay organized with the divisions

straps fit over shoulders 

pretty

neutral
rare color/quilted combo

Cons: 

kind of small for work

I forget which compartment I put my stuff in cause I am forgetful

I already have a bag in this color
common style

How do you decide when to say goodbye?

I've been thinking about parting with some of my lesser-used bags. Adrien and Marianne of Looks Good from the Back call this recycling, since the old often funds the new. As much as I enjoy them, they mostly sit in my closet. Let's face it: I just don't have the Kardashian-caliber closet/lifestyle/income to justify collecting for the sake of a collection.

 One such aforementioned Kardashian closet. (from Elle)

But that leaves me with the decisions. I don't mean to sound dramatic or so crass as to liken this privileged process of material weeding to Sophie's Choice. I fully recognize that this is among the first-world-iest of a developed world/global north problem. But even so, how do you decide what stays and what goes when it is in a genre you happen to (kind of) hoard?

 All of these MBMJ bags have been rehomed except the Pan Am and the Softy.

When I am weeding out fast fashion, the process is easy. I don't feel a lot of commitment to that stuff. I didn't buy it with longevity in mind. No one expects to keep some necklace from Target for decades.  That's part of why I've begun avoiding fast fashion. No matter how cute the item, I often view the stuff as temporary or even (more guiltily) disposable.

 As much as I love the Stam, it didn't suit my lifestyle.

With nicer clothing the process is a little more simple and less intimidating. If I haven't worn it that must mean it 1. doesn't fit my lifestyle 2. doesn't make me feel confident and/or 3. just plain doesn't fit. I don't typically feel that pang of sentimental "what if someday I will want this again" anxiety with clothes.  

 I thought I was ready to say goodbye when I sold this Balenciaga City. 

A month or so later I bought it back from its new owner.

Bags have long been my vice. They were my high-end gateway drug. I hold onto them with irrational fervor. Quite a few were purchased with great care and effort, to (for lack of better and less pretentious word) curate a fine accessories arsenal that could enhance any range of outfits. Parting with the ones I have kept to this point would mean parting with the ones I really like. Even if I don't use them now, I see their value in remaining a part of my collection. If they've made this many closet edits then I obviously feel kind of attached. And all of these irrational material musings add up to my becoming emotional (and therefore unrealistic) about pricing. When I feel confident about selling a bag, I price it to move. When I feel mixed, I end up being less realistic in my evaluation of resale market value.

I hope I don't sound too materially dependent. I am curious about the thoughts of others on this subject. What about you? How do you decide what stays and what goes? Do you consign, use ebay/bonanza, or a shop blog? Is weeding and re-selling a simple or emotional process? How do you determine a price for something you might have coveted desperately at one point but realize you just rarely use?  Do you feel more attached to specific types of items (like shoes, watches, tote bags, etc.) over others?