I have an addiction.
And, yes, like all addictions it is costly. Not only is it hard on my checking account balance, but it costs me my dignity too.
Purses.
Oh god…Just thinking about them…supple leather, designer monograms, chic creations, classic styles…my heart rapidly begins to pound. And then I remember it’s been nearly an entire year since I last fed my habit, and it wasn’t a near satisfactory hit because finding a decent Chloe (Oh my god, seriously the best, my fave, the pinnacle in my purse collection b/c I do own one, but I need another one, duh!) was as useless as looking for meaning in a Pauly Shore movie (Yes, that was a quote from Clueless, rather appropriate I feel.).
Anyway, I was talking to my vacay chica, Miss Moser the other night. Mexican rebels and violence have kind of shot our plans for an all-inclusive Puerto Vallarta vacay getting drunk all day and night (My goal would be to be called El Drunko – like my cousin – by the staff), but sobering up long enough to pet dolphins. Seriously, if I missed out on the whole “swimming with dolphins” thing, I wouldn’t be happy. That is definitely something I want to take advantage of if the opportunity presents itself.
So, we’re tossing a few ideas back and forth – Charleston, SC; Savannah, GA, Fort Lauderdale, FL…Maybe an all-inclusive in Jamaica or the Bahamas…We’re really not sure yet…But planning these kind of things…It’s what makes life worth living!
When suddenly, I get the itch.
Not an itch I can scratch, either. And no, sadly not the itch that an able-bodied partner of the opposite sex can help me scratch…Although, that is nice.
New York…New York…New York – the itch begins chanting (weird, I know) in my head. Not only that, but the itch is very specific about New York. Chinatown in Manhattan is the only place this certain itch will receive any kind of relief. It begins to tell me about the amazing shopping opportunities that are in store for me:
The purse woman sells exquisite fakes. She has a whole operation set up. I’m not going to go into details because if she gets picked up, then my whole scheme is up in smoke and my addiction will consume me, but know this: When in a Saks, Nordstroms, or other store where designer purses are for sale, I study the purses. I see where they are monogrammed at, what the zipper looks like, the markings on the inside, I really feel the purse, smell the leather…I might even taste it if that didn’t look way too weird, but the point is that when I have my heart set on a purse, I make sure I am only getting the best. I may be a cute, little, freckled Hoosier, but put me in front of an Asian purse-dealer in Chinatown and the vicious fashionista emerges.
And I know this sounds crazy, but look at it this way:
You’re a druggie and coke is your choice of drug. Do you want the shitty, water-downed stuff? Or do you want the George Jung high-quality shit that doesn’t even begin to boil until it reaches 160 degree Fahrenheit*?
*I know this from the movie Blow, not from personal experience. I swear!
Anyway, if I was that druggie, I know I would want the high-quality shit! And while something may look high-quality, that doesn’t always mean it is. You have to inspect it! Boil it, investigate it, do whatever you like, but you want the best for your money. And I am making sure I get the very best. Especially when it comes to my appetite for Chloe.
There is also my watch man down there. My parents have a friend that’s a jeweler and took their watches their to him get them sized and the jeweler was amazed that they bought the watches in Chinatown. Tag, Rolex, Cartier, the man has it. And I love it.
Sunglasses are something else I’m a little crazy about. I have my very own pair of Versace glasses and Yves Saint Laurent (to match the amazing Muse bag I got from the purse lady, and I feel like such a snob when I pair them together, it’s great!) glasses thanks to Sunglass Hut and Saks. But I like a cool pair of sunglasses as much as the next fashion snob. And the nice thing about living in a small Midwestern town is that really, not many people can tell the difference between a bad knock-ff and an original. So I’ll buy a cheap pair of Diors, Chanels, Prada’s, or Versace’s if the price is right and they’re cute enough.
Gelato is another thing that I love too! While technically not found in Chinatown, gelato can be found in Little Italy which runs perpendicular to Canal St (that means it intersects Canal St) and you can sit out under white Christmas lights, drink a bottle of wine, enjoy a plate of pasta, and then eat a gelato, an Italian ice cream. The Italians are so smart when it comes to the palate.
But no trip to Big Apple is complete until you ride the Q, R, W, or N train up to midtown and get off at the 59th Street station. You walk upstairs and then few blocks and at 57th is Carnegie and this divine cheesecake complete with strawberries and whip cream…Seriously an orgasm in your mouth. And unless you think about the calories and the width of your ass, cheesecake doesn’t have any bad after effects like pregnancy and diseases! You just need to make sure to stop by the park (And you all know what park I mean) and run! Then! Vamoose! The calories are gone!
Well…The run might last awhile…Especially once you factor in the wine, the pasta, and the gelato.
But, it’s New York! And you’re only there once! And now I’m going to go over to orbitz and start looking at when I can take a weekend trip!
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