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Bagging The Perfect Purse

Bangles and blinding colors litter the path to elegant simplicity

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JOHN LOK / THE SEATTLE TIMES And the winner is . . . Valerie Easton's new purse by Hobo KNIGHT-RIDDER Katie Main of Los Angeles bag features mink pompoms. KNIGHT-RIDDER Target's metallic handbag. ASSOCIATED PRESS Coach's Whitney bag with gold hardware.

"Clothes Are Getting Plainer, So Leave the Bling for Your Bag"

— Vogue, June 2006

WHAT IF YOU'D prefer a bling-free bag? I recently spent waaaay too much energy looking for a wallet-carrying receptacle devoid of chains, studs, faux jewels, braiding, grommets, tassels or any number of other embellishments you'd never expect to find melded onto leather. All I wanted was a simple purse in a color other than black. I ended up searching for any purse that wasn't green, white or leather more distressed than if the poor cow had tromped on its own sides before giving them up to be made into one more hideous handbag.

It's true that I don't enjoy shopping anymore. I can't bring myself to try much on because it's all too clear that most everything would look better on my daughter. Is there no middle ground between pants even I recognize as Mom jeans and those that ride so low on the hips you have to wear a thong or your underwear shows? That leaves purses, shoes and lipstick as the only objects of desire that don't make me feel like slinking out of the store.

But it didn't take long to figure out that purses, too, have become problematic. And not just because of the bling. Popular Soho bags that sling under the arm are so long and skinny they give the impression you're hauling a dachshund under your armpit. Most others are glinty metallic or aggressively alligator, shockingly expensive or too tiny to hold reading glasses.

And why are all purses, even the tiny bejeweled ones, called bags? The word is unfortunately reminiscent of diaper bags, a stage of life we've left behind, or what some people like to call those of us who are, uh, a little more mature. And if our kids are still young, all the more reason to have a purse easily distinguishable from the rubber-lined tote stuffed with wipes and extra diapers. Those capacious, trendy bags with knotted handles bring back visceral memories of digging deep for a biscuit or pacifier, only to find instead something sticky, or worse. There was a time when we had to lug half the kitchen and bathroom with us wherever we went, but not anymore. I was looking for a purse.

The first shock came when I had to ask a salesperson at Nordstrom to unlock a glass case to look at some purses. I should have known they were housed like jewels because they cost as much. But $2,700 for a puce reptile number? These were purse porn, the Versaces of handbags with their sexy lines, garish colors and dominatrix chain mail. They hardly had any inside pockets, but I guess convenient cell phone access wasn't the point.

And what's with white? So many young women are carrying perforated, dimpled, draped white bags. Not cream, ivory or camel, but day-glo white. Don't they drop their purses on the floor of their car, or stash them beneath their seat at the movies? White purses must get filthy and truly distressed looking within a week. I think Coach started the trend with those white purses dotted with multicolored jewels that I never understood, either.

It became a campaign for me to find a brown leather purse that cost less than a weekend in a fine hotel. I trekked down to Drees in Olympia, where I'd found a chocolate suede Hobo-brand purse a couple of years before, but they had only black bags. Back in Seattle, I slipped into Opus 204 on First Avenue. It carries a few practical yet luscious purses, but the ones in stock were either red or too big. The proprietor helped me look through a catalog and place an order. When it arrived, the purse was far larger than I'd thought, its strap gathered into shiny D-rings. I could imagine a very tall woman, dressed all in black, carrying this showy purse around New York City. I wavered, forgetting how different that imaginary woman was from me. It was the lining that ultimately put me over the edge. The inside of a purse is as important as the lining of a coat. While this purse was soft caramel-colored leather, the inside was a Monet-like pastel swirl that detracted from the purse's sophistication. The people at Opus were kind about my reluctance.

I hit the jackpot a few blocks away at Passport. The minute I walked in the door I saw it — a trim Hobo-brand purse in acorn-colored leather with a sky-blue lining. It has narrow handles the right length for a short-ish person, and is clean-lined with plenty of pockets. It's roomy enough to carry a small notebook, hand lotion, glasses and even a rolled-up magazine, but not so large I list to one side when I carry it. I did pay a little more than I'd intended, but it's well worth it because this purse has to last for years. If, as Vogue tells us, there's a whole new radical silhouette for fall, including billowing, bustles and bell curves, it may be a good long while before I have the courage to shop again for a new purse.

Valerie Easton is a Seattle freelance writer. Her e-mail address is valeaston@comcast.net. John Lok is a Seattle Times staff photographer.