So there's this incredibly nice mall here. Incredibly nice. All the fanciest stores. And since the Boy-Creature gets an employee discount at Nordstrom, we end up there about once a week, it seems like. Today we were there to pick up a pair of pants he had altered, and to check out the ties, cufflinks, and sunglasses for the forty-eight-thousandth time. He'd also heard there was some new Hermes cologne that was supposed to be really nice. So we went to the Hermes store.
That's how nice this mall is. There's an Hermes store. Complete with scarves, swimsuits, and saddles.
They even had a Birkin bag, right there in the case. And I got to look at it!
Boy-Creature always insists that I look at the bags and try on the four-thousand dollar dresses. He figures, when's the next time I'll get the chance? I usually don't want to. I realize it's unlikely that I'll ever have those things, so what's the point? Still he insists. So I had my hands on a $24,000 orange crocodile Birkin bag. It was lovely.
Afterwards, as we wandered out into the post-Christmas crowds again, I have to admit I felt all flushed and giddy. Boy-Creature said, "See? You know you want one. If you had the money, you'd get one."
But I disagree. They may be lovely bags, but there's plenty of other things I'd want first. Like a house in the French countryside, and a flat in Paris. I'd rather eat caviar in Moscow or ride across Australia on a motorcycle. I don't want to buy things, I want to see things. I'll traipse all the way around the world before I drop that much money on one little bag. Even if it is a bag that increases in value after you buy it. I've got a different idea of what's valuable.