Gone to Heaven in a Handbag

by Patti

S has been working her way through the money and gift cards she received for her birthday last month. She is 11 now - that magical age where not only do your eyeballs practically fall out of their sockets from rolling them so fiercely at the sheer audacity of those others around you to even exist, but also the age where you prefer cha-ching! over Polly Pockets as a gift.

So yesterday, as part of the pretty wonderful Mother's Day that I had, I hit Target with S and my mom. My mom and I needed boring things like toilet paper and snacks for the week, but S had a plan: SPEND THOSE GIFTCARDS.  I'll admit: S is a lucky kid. She's got everything a kid could ever need, plus a lot of things a kid could ever hope for. I know this because whenever she's got a gift card or cash to blow, she kind of stands there and suffers. "I don't know what to BUY!" Oh, the world problems. But this time around, she had her heart set on a purse. Not a sparkly, kid-ish one, either; a real, live, cool, grown-up purse.

I remember when I got my first real, live purse. My aunt bought it for me when I was 12. It was the "in" purse of the moment -- a "Jet" bag with zillions of zippers, parachute-like material, and a rough, canvas strap. I loved that purse more than I loved Shaun Cassidy. I still recall the feeling of hearing the zipper unzip, and how I constantly found an excuse to rummage through the crap I wrangled up to throw in there in order to make that purse feel "official". This is how I knew how excited S was to have that same experience.

When we walked into Target, we immediately happened upon the purse area. S browsed through the aisles, lovingly stroking the diffirent types of leather, pleather, fabric and various faux materials that made up the many types of bags. She finally found one that made her squeal, and slung it over her shoulder. It was a slouchy brown pleather number with panels of Native American Indian designs on each side of the bag. "I LOVE this! It looks really hippy-ish!" She strode up and down the aisle, the bag swallowing her up whole. "I just wish it was a different color." She wore it as she browsed the other available purses, hoping to find one that made her squeal again. My mom and I took turns fruitlessly holding up alternatives, but she just rolled her eyes at them. Clearly, we had no taste. I finally found one buried among the "ugly" options that caught my eye. It was fabric and had funky designs all over it. It looked very "S". Slouchy? Check. Hippy-ish? Check. Long strap? Check.  "How about this one?" S let out an "ooooh" of approval, and I handed it to her. She was now more confused than ever.
"I love them BOTH!"
"Ah, but you can only get one."
"What do I do?"
My mom suggested that she walk up and down the aisle past the mirror, and glance at herself as she strode by so that she could see how each purse looked in action. So she did. Many, many times. And she still couldn't decide

Fully aware that we actually had real things to buy, I suggested that she walk around the store with both purses on, and get a feel for them in the real world. We pushed the cart around, my mom buying her things, me buying mine, all while S struggled out loud about her looming decision. In the soup aisle, I saw a woman with a funky sense of style -- the kind I knew S would respect -- so I approached her. "My daughter is buying her first real purse today, and she is having trouble deciding between two. May I ask your opinion?" The woman analyzed S, a gleam in her eye, and then quickly pointed at the one I had chosen.
"Love that one! I mean, they're both cute, but that one is just more... playful." S immediately nodded, relieved to be done with the choice.
"Thank you!" S smiled widely at the woman as she removed the brown purse from her shoulder.
"You're welcome. And... congratulations!" The woman smiled back at her, then looked at me and winked as she continued down the aisle, her job done.
S tore the tag off of the chosen purse and handed it to me, then placed her gift card in the bag, christening it with new weight. She then proceeded to float the rest of her way through Target, the purse grazing her thigh.

Last night, as I gave her her nightly good-night kiss, she asked me to sit with her for two minutes so that she could tell me what she had put in her purse. "....chapstick, my glasses case, lip gloss, my phone, a notebook with a pen - cuz you know how you're always telling me stuff I forget - my wallet, some suckers and some gum....I just wish I could sleep with my purse!" I congratulated her again on her new score, and tucked her in.  She rolled over and closed her eyes, the smile on her face carrying her into her dreams.