On becoming a label whore

So I bought my first Coach bag over the weekend.

This is a big deal for me. First, I have never been the kind of girl to want things just because everyone else has them or because they're the cool things to have. Particularly not with clothes or accessories. If I buy trendy things at all, it's usually ages after the trend is truly trendy, when I have been beaten into submission by the overabundance of said item permanently imprinting itself on my consciousness. You know, sort of like how I am finally warming up to Adele's "Rolling in the Deep."

However, I have recently experienced an irrational yearning for... gasp... trendy things. Like Ugg boots. (I bought Bearpaw boots because they're cheaper but still well made and holy jesus are they amazing. Why did I wait?? Like wearing slippers everywhere.) Or a Coach bag.

I do not spend big money on handbags, people. I set my bag down on the floor of restaurants, kick it under tables at weddings, and cram my lunch into it on weekdays. Really, the notion that I would "invest" in a nice handbag is a joke. Also, I carry the same handbag all year round, every year, until it wears out.

So why, you may be asking, did I just spend an absurd amount of money on a Coach bag? I honestly have no idea. I did learn that part of the reason they're so expensive is that they're very well made and come with a lifetime guarantee. But I just keep repeating that to people in order to justify my unholy love of The Precious.

I absolutely adore my new bag. I can't even pretend that I'm not insanely infatuated with it. Which means, I suppose, that it was a worthwhile purchase, considering I bought it at a discount, am 36 years old and have a good job (meaning I can theoretically afford it and, damn it, I'm old enough to buy ridiculous, expensive things for myself).

But I continue to be plagued by the question... who have I become? Why am I fulfilled by a Coach bag?

Disturbing. And yet... I love my bag. So much. Did I mention that?