I Love A Good Story

Love At First Grope: Epilogue

After I made the fiscally responsible decision of not buying the Abaco bag, I vowed to avoid Petticoat Lane in the weeks following. I needed time to mourn the loss of my big, buttery, leather obsession. I didn’t have the strength to see it again and not buy it, nor could I bear the thought of it on someone else’s arm. abaconewI clung to the hope that it was pining for me too, that it would wait for me until its handlers further reduced its price. Wishful thinking, obvs. Or so I thought. Until yesterday, when I saw the “Select Bags, 50% Off!” sign in the window of Petticoat Lane.

I tore through the door and beelined for the half-off rack. Propped against its inferiors, stuffed with tissue paper, as new and beautiful as I’d remembered it, there it was. My Abaco. I picked it up carefully, and physically embraced it. I’m not even kidding. I actually hugged the thing.

abaconew1At the register, I inquired after the damage before slapping down my card. The bag was originally priced at $659 (I’d erroneously assumed that its online price was the same as its in-store price, but via the Interweb it was $739. Online shopping a bargain? My ass.). At 50% off, I was looking at $329.50 plus tax. I went for it without hesitation, and as the salesgal wrapped my splurgy poo she said, with unconcealed envy, “I paid $800 for my Abaco. I can’t believe the deal you’re getting.” I could have mock-related, but I’ve always been a shitty liar. $800 is an effing insane price to pay for any one thing. But $350, for something you’ll wear and adore fo eva, is just right. Especially when that something makes you look so. effing. loaded.

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