I love bags!

There is said it. No more hiding. Truth be told, I am a baggaholic baggaliocious boom boom. As I embark on the end of another year, I began reminiscing the memories that passed… through the eyes of my handbags.

For some, their handbags are a statement of their social status. For others, it is a means to stuff everything they own and carry all around. For me, all my handbags tells a story. Either about the purchasing experience, the people who gave it to me or simply what I felt when I first gazed upon the bag that stole my heart.

I have bags from Pasar Malam to Paris. I keep bags from 1993 to 2013. I treasure bags given to me by family and friends. Me and my handbags are inseparable. The feeling I get everytime when I clasp on my Vanessa Bruno or even strap my Kipling shoulder bag, is the feeling of satisfaction and a small sense of accomplishment that always puts a smile on my face. It always makes me feel good about myself and to a certain extent it exudes confidence in the way I walk.

Maybe its silly of me to feel this way about a bag, but to me each bag of mine bears a little bit of history and shares a little bit of my life journey. I mean, don’t you take your bag everywhere? When you board the plane to travel for work and your heart aches because you have to leave your children behind, which bag did you hang on to? What handbag did you take when you took your mom for a normal medical checkup and found out she was diagnosed with cancer? Which bag accompanied you to your daughters’ prize giving ceremony? What clutch did you match which the dress that your husband bought you for your anniversary?

See? A bag is not just a bag… to me at least

While the bag lady sorts out which bag to tell on