This summer for me is all about finding small, everyday things that bring me joy. Morning coffee outside? Check. Filling my camera roll with 13489134297 photos of the flowers I see around Boston? No problem. Silly, child-like purchases that make me smile? Sign me up. Writing about said silly, child-like purchases to my Substack readers to keep the whimsy alive? At length.
But first, let’s talk about how I got here.
I am a tote bag girly through and through. Until I can afford a Chanel or YSL or Prada leather shoulder bag/tote situation, I’m going to be rocking a $15 canvas tote bag — there has been no in-between for me. However, there have been a few sticky situations I’ve gotten myself into as a tote bag user as of recent. Small items like highlighters, chapsticks, loose dollar bills, travel perfumes, weed pens, what have you, have gone missing. Imagine you’re about to enter the cinema to see the new Fantastic Four movie with your boyfriend, and you have to watch it with a clear mind. Never again.
For the level of schlepping I like to commit to so often, a canvas tote is not the most practical of choices, unless I fill my items into smaller bags and pouches and then throw them inside (which I usually can’t be bothered to do). The lack of organization and security is becoming a real problem, which led me on my quest to find a middle ground — something more durable and secure than a canvas tote, around the same size, but nothing that’ll break the bank. Cue the vintage Coach shoulder bag I found on Depop for $36, an absolute robbery, if I do say so myself.
my criteria:
Has to fit whatever book I’m reading along with a few other necessities (sunglass case, wallet, mini watercolor set if I’m feeling frisky).
Has to be pre-owned so I don’t feel the need to be precious with it.
Real leather.
Needs a top zipper to keep all my shit inside.
Bonus points if it could double as a crossbody. My torso is about 6 inches long, and the strap of the bag is riddled with grommets for adjustability, so things are looking good for me.
I also specifically wanted Coach because not only are they once again all the rage, but Coach and I go way back; some of my first ever nice bags were from the Coach outlet, and one of my first “adult” purchases on my own was a Coach bag from the store on 5th Ave. The nostalgia!
Let me start by saying that I don’t think this seller realized what they had and should’ve charged a much higher price. All comparable models were at least $50 more. Of course, there was no way I was going to look for a new or fast fashion version of these bags. That would’ve been a disgrace. You’d pay more for a plastic faux leather shoulder bag from Zara or Anthropologie than you would for a vintage real-leather bag that has 20+ years left in it. Not going to happen.
One thing I know to be true in this world is that Coach bags, especially ones from the 90s and early 2000s, are made to last. Real leather, great craftsmanship, durable, and let’s just say hit-or-miss on the aesthetics. Some of the Coach bags I came in contact with on Depop and eBay were, to put it mildly, monsters. How those ever made it to production is beyond me. But the majority of them are classic shapes in a simple black or brown leather. There were a few that I liked a little better than the one I pulled the trigger on, but once I saw a comparable option for $36, I couldn’t look past it. It was like a game to me. And the others were around $60-150 and are truly so similar, it felt silly to favor them.
vintage coach bags I passed on, but you should definitely buy:
this is very similar to the style I bought ($75)
this is the EXACT style I bought ($130)
black leather shoulder bag ($120)
brown leather messenger bag ($185)
this one is so good and has gold hardware ($131)
Another incentive for a new shoulder bag is that I am now a mother of two. I know what you’re thinking — how can one woman with a full-time job and a very successful Substack newsletter (102 subscribers and counting, baby) AND, most crucially, Nelly’s mother, take on another dependent? The answer: Baguette Jellycat. Something I once turned my nose up at and thought to be a waste of money has now crept its way into the deep corners of my brain, nay, my heart, in the form of an overpriced, plush baguette keychain.
If you’re not a member of the Gen-Z cult I involuntarily find myself a part of, allow me to explain. Jellycat is a British heritage brand of stuffed animals that has become dangerously popular among 20-somethings in the past few years. They make literally everything with a little face on it. They even have a toilet paper one. Although I always found them extremely adorable, I never quite understood the whole Jellycat thing and why my twenty to thirty-year-old counterparts were spending their money on them. But I’d be very happy if someone gifted me one. If I were to buy one, it would be one of the foods — one of the various cheeses or pastries, most likely. I even saw my first Baguette Jellycat in the wild last weekend, whilst shopping around with a friend in Brookline, and thought to myself how fun it would be to have one, but what a silly way to spend $28 (yup, that’s right — almost the same amount of money as a Coach bag). I ended up leaving without it and sulked in the apartment for the rest of the day, living in a sea of regret. That’s when I remembered that free will exists, and if that is something that would bring me joy, then why the hell would I sit out on it? I prompted myself to march to the gift store in my neighborhood (my closest plug) the next morning right when it opened, and if they had the tiny baguette man in stock, he would be mine.
And there he was, a plush baguette keychain, just waiting for me to take him home. I decided then and there that manifestation is real. I texted Noel right away to tell her of the good news and guess which one I bought, and of course, she guessed correctly on the first try. Sorceress.
So yes, I sort of bought the new bag so my Jellycat has a more dignified home to clip onto. I am not ashamed to admit that. You better believe that the first thing I’ll do when my bag arrives in the mail is clip my tiny baguette man (his interim name is Monsieur Flaky until I can think of something better) into place. And then I’ll stash whatever book I’m reading inside, and off I will go. Perhaps never to be seen again.
UPDATE! The bag has arrived, and it’s perfect. See how Monsieur Flaky dangles just right?
Here’s a hearty selection of Jellycats I curated below for those who have no idea what the hell I’m talking about. THEY’RE SO CUTE. And so unhinged. Now I want the coffee bean, the parmesan, the farfalle noodle, the hot dog… I could even get the soccer ball “for Jack” when we all really know who it’s for. All this to say, I urge you to do or buy something that brings you utter, childlike joy this week! Even if it feels a little silly and impractical. I promise you, it’s worth it. Every time I lay eyes on Monsieur Flaky, I beam with pride. And I’m proud of myself for not succumbing to the simple pleasures in life I’ve previously deemed un-chic. Like, how dare I?
some things that may bring you child-like joy:
swimming in a body of water (bonus points for cannonballs)
draw with sidewalk chalk
re-read your favorite book from when you were 12
make or order a shirley temple
play with clay or play-doh
watch an episode of spongebob (or your childhood equivalent)
In other news this week, as if in pursuit of ways to challenge myself to not tarnish my new white couch, I picked up a sparkling red wine to try — see, another small joy. My mom has always preferred red wine, so as a child I decided that red is the chicest of the wines, and white wine drinkers are inferior and unfashionable. Despite this, as hard as I’ve tried, I’ll admit that I’m not much of a red wine drinker at all. It’s just not really my jam. However, the thought of having it chilled and bubbly made me feel like I could turn that beat around, especially in a vintage glass on a hot summer’s day.
The verdict is that it’s fucking delightful. My intuition was spot on, and I have since declared it the beverage of the summer. I’d recommend heading to your local wine shop and asking the sales associate to help you find one because if you’re anything like me, you certainly won’t be able to decipher one on your own and you’ll wander aimlessly until a kind soul comes and saves you. Cheers!
- Ally (& Monsieur Flaky)
Comments
Nothing yet. Say the first thing.
Sign in to join the conversation.