Okay, so let’s talk about that Vuitton Murakami bag phase. Man, I remember when those things just exploded onto the scene. You couldn’t open a magazine or watch a celeb show without seeing one. And me? Yeah, I totally got sucked into the hype. I really wanted one. It wasn’t just a bag; it felt like a piece of art, you know? That bright, colorful monogram – so different from the classic LV stuff.
Getting my hands on one was a whole saga. I wasn’t exactly rolling in dough back then. So, I started saving. Every spare bit of cash I had, I put it aside. I spent hours, and I mean hours, trawling through eBay, looking at second-hand luxury sites, hoping to find the one at a price that wouldn’t make me eat instant noodles for a year. It felt like a proper quest, this hunt for the perfect Murakami piece. I was obsessed with the white multicolor Speedy, specifically. That was the dream.
Then, finally, after what felt like forever, I found it. A pre-owned one, in pretty good condition. The seller seemed legit. I remember clicking “buy” with my heart pounding. And when it arrived? Oh boy. Unboxing that thing was a moment. I probably just sat there staring at it for a good ten minutes. I paraded it around my apartment. I felt like I’d achieved something major. Silly, right? But that’s how it felt.
I started using it immediately, of course. Took it everywhere. Felt super chic, super trendy. For a while, it was my absolute favorite thing. I got compliments, which, not gonna lie, felt pretty good. But then, the reality of owning a white, canvas, designer bag started to sink in. That thing was a dirt magnet! I was constantly paranoid about scuffing it, or getting a pen mark on it, or god forbid, spilling coffee near it. It started to feel less like a fun accessory and more like a high-maintenance pet.
And you know, as time went on, my style started to change a bit too. The super flashy, colorful vibe of the Murakami collection, while I still appreciated the art, just didn’t feel as “me” as it once did. I found myself reaching for more understated, practical bags. Bags I didn’t have to baby so much. There wasn’t one big dramatic moment, no specific disaster. It was more of a slow fade. The bag spent more and more time in its dust bag, tucked away in my closet.
One day, I was doing a big clear-out. You know how it is, trying to Marie Kondo your life. And I pulled out the Murakami Speedy. It was still beautiful, but it just felt like it belonged to a different chapter of my life. A younger me, maybe? Someone with different priorities. I realized it was just sitting there, not being used, not bringing me that initial joy anymore. It was more of a relic.
So, I made the decision. I decided to sell it. It took a bit of effort, taking good photos, writing a description, dealing with potential buyers. But eventually, it sold. And you know what? I didn’t feel sad. I actually felt kind of relieved. The money went towards something more practical, I think it was a down payment on a really good washing machine, if I remember correctly. Talk about adulting, huh?
Looking back, I don’t regret buying it. It was fun while it lasted. It was a whole experience, from the hunt to the ownership. But it also taught me a bit about hype, and trends, and how your own tastes can evolve. Sometimes, the things you think you must have, turn out to be just… things. And that’s okay. Now, if I see one, I get a little nostalgic, but I’m perfectly happy with my less famous, but way more chill, current bag situation.
