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I own at least eight cardigans. Six pairs of soft pants. Five pairs of Ferragamo heels. Three pairs of Levi’s. Two watches. But only one bag.

Okay, that’s not totally true. I do have a clutch for special occasions, a handmade leather side bag for traveling, and a vintage leather Longchamp that holds my art supplies hidden somewhere in my closet. But generally speaking, there is only one bag that I use on a regular basis. Previously, I was using a Longchamp that I splurged on when I visited France….because France is probably the most appropriate place to splurge on a Longchamp, right? 😉

But three years later, my faithful bag was starting to deteriorate. It had travelled on subways in cities from Paris to Chicago, was thrown into many a trunk, and stuffed to its brim, and now it was finally going to receive some well deserved rest.

I hate purse shopping. Just as much as I dislike shoe shopping, honestly. It’s not that I don’t like getting new purses or shoes; it’s that the process is very tiresome. Shoes and purses take the brunt of your life. They are thrown around, walked on, tossed into corners, and they hold some of your most valuable possessions. That said, quality is key for me when finding a bag. But so is practicality. And, of course, price.

Well, thank goodness for Kate Spade Saturday!

For under $200 I purchased a black canvas and leather satchel that will see me through many years…and look polished and stunning in the process.

Where is your favorite bag from?

Cheers!

Sarah

Last week, The Sartorialist posted a contest that challenged readers to write a 200 words or fewer story inspired by three of The Sartorialist’s images. Winners recived access to a private party at Danziger Gallery in New York, a hotel stay, and a free bag.(original post here) Not a bad deal! Which is why I convinced my sister, a writer, to submit to the contest. Unfortunately she didn’t win, but I thought her stories were too good not to gain some credit. Celebrate the start of Fashion week by reading her stories, below.

This city is a trick coin. It appears two-sided, a light and a dark, but it’s all the same. She knows this, perhaps is the only one who notices. This is a snow globe of a city. Eerily bright, but underground a revolution brews. She walked into the day like one walks into a painting.Toulouse-Lautrec reds and ugly women in beautiful clothes. This city is a kaleidoscope. When it turns,the colors and the shapes collide, but does it really ever change? When she slipped into her heels as the sun rose that morning, she knew the only way tobring color into this city was through the soles of her shoes.

There is a time to mourn and a time to dance. The incense had curled up beyond the alter, past the stained glass angel with his sheathed sword and eyes upraised. A wisp of white had clung to existence, reluctant toleave this world in very much the same way she had. They danced the jitterbug.They fought over dinners of baked pasta and wine. They grew a family, in whoseears danced the words “hard work” from birth to, for one, premature death. The children were there with him this day as he watched the white smoke float upinto the church’s rafters, but he had to leave even them behind. He needed towalk alone, for the first memorable time, without her. His cap was well worn,but he donned it today day anyway. She had given it to him for their thirtieth anniversary. Then was a time, as it is even now, to dance.

To read more of Angie’s writing, check out her blog here.

*Photos from www.thesartorialist.com