Understanding what handbags mean to women is a complicated matter. You might compare handbags to the mystery of cats and adapt T.S. Eliot’s “The naming of cats”:
“The buying of handbags is a difficult matter,
It isn’t just a profane afterwork deed.
You may think it’s as simple as a rattle’s clatter,
But believe me, at least SEVEN bags does a woman need!”
In any case, handbags need to have the appeal of a hidden universe. If you want to understand handbags imagine a museum, preferably a private collector’s museum like Pitt Rivers in Oxford, and there you are with the elementary philosophy of a handbag.
Impossible to foresee which unique objects will show up from the depths of your bag and unfathomable the variety of indispensable valuables you need to store!
A good handbag will not only hold together your everyday universe but it will also go with you anywhere. Big or small, it doesn’t matter. Day by day, you’ll sling your breathtaking, portable, private collection over your shoulder – or you’ll just clutch it with one hand – and off you go! You’re the director, the collector, the curator, the visitor, the doorman, the adorer and restorer – a fancy-free, footloose one-woman show.
Post Scriptum: Handbags are irreconcilably at odds with umbrellas. So you should better look for umbrella-carrying company on rainy days.