Alright, so you’re asking about that Lanvin purse. Yeah, I’ve got a story about one of those.
I remember when I first laid eyes on one. Not even mine, at first. Saw it on someone who looked like they had it all figured out. And I thought, “Yep, that’s a piece of the good life right there.” So, I eventually got one for myself. Big decision back then. Lots of saving, lots of anticipation. You know how it is.
Felt pretty slick carrying it around, I won’t lie. Like I’d unlocked some kind of achievement. For a hot minute, anyway.
But here’s the thing about these fancy items…
After a while, the newness wears off, right? It’s still a Lanvin, still looks nice from a distance, but it’s just… a bag. It sits there. It holds stuff. And life, well, life keeps on happening, regardless of what your handbag is doing or what label it has.
You start to see the little things. Maybe a stitch that isn’t quite as perfect as you once daydreamed, or you realize it’s not actually all that practical for your actual, real life, day-to-day grind. Or maybe, just maybe, you start to realize a purse is, at the end of the day, just a purse.
It’s kinda like a lot of these status symbols, you know? They’re supposed to shout something about you from the rooftops. But what are they really saying? And who are they even talking to?
This whole thing really came into focus for me a few years back.
I was doing what a lot of us do, chasing all the usual things. The career, the image, constantly trying to keep up with whatever was “in.” Had this idea in my head of what success was supposed to look like. And yeah, having a “nice” bag, a designer one, was part of that picture I was painting for myself, and for others too, I guess.
Then, my sister, she went through a really tough patch. Lost her job, her apartment situation became a mess, everything just seemed to be piling on her all at once. Real life stuff, you know? Serious, heavy stuff.
I remember going over to her place to help her try and sort things out. We spent weeks, honestly, it felt like months, just wading through problems, trying to find a path forward. And you know what? In all that time, through all that stress and worry, not once did I think about what purse I was carrying. Or what shoes I was wearing. Or if my hair looked any good.
We were in the trenches, her and I. We were figuring out finances, making difficult phone calls, packing boxes. It was gritty. It was raw. It was real.
- We talked more honestly than we probably had in years.
- We had to rely on each other, truly.
- We found a kind of strength we didn’t even know we possessed.
And the stuff that mattered in those moments? It was having enough in the account for groceries. It was a hug when things felt completely overwhelming. It was just being present for someone you care about, truly there.
My fancy Lanvin purse? It sat in my closet the whole time. Completely irrelevant. Useless, really, when faced with actual human struggle and the importance of connection.
That whole period, it was a massive wake-up call for me. A really big one. It made me re-evaluate what I was spending my time on, what I was spending my money on, and where I was putting my energy.
So, that Lanvin purse now…
It’s still there. Tucked away in a dust bag. Sometimes I see it when I’m looking for something else entirely. It’s a nice enough bag, I suppose, if you look at it just from a design point of view. The leather’s good quality, I can’t deny that.
But it doesn’t hold that same magic for me anymore. Not even close. It’s more like a marker, a memento from a different chapter in my life. A time when I thought those kinds of external things defined you, or at least helped you get somewhere important, somewhere better.
Now? I think I know better. The things you carry on the inside, the experiences you share with people, the help you give when it’s needed – that’s the real currency in this life. That Lanvin? It’s just an accessory. And honestly, most days, I just grab whatever’s practical, whatever works, and get on with the business of living.
