A few months ago on one of our neighborhood walkabouts the kid and I stopped in at a favorite little shop to browse. Tilde is one of those shops that really doesn’t have anything you would need but tends to have a lot of stuff that you want. Really really want. They curate a great minimal selection of cards, a few twee home items, fantastic well crafted purses and wallets, airy scarves, the odd hat, some miscellaneous gift items, and stock the rest of the store with jewelry that is a feast for the eyes. Usually I stop in when I need a card or have a strong desire to part with my money and for a new pair of earrings.
On this particular day I wasn’t even planning to go into the store. We were walking past. We were on a mission. I don’t remember what that mission was. It was probably just a mission not to go in there. But as I was pretending not to look in the window of the shop but totally looking in the window of the shop something caught my eye. A bag. A black leather bag. A bag that I can best describe as looking like an origami version of a doctor’s bag.
All other thought stopped.
I stopped my kid from taking those next 10 steps that would lead to the coffee shop and we ducked into the store. There was some eye rolling. We don’t share a love of bags and shoes. That’s a me thing. So the fact that I walked inside and made a beeline to the most beautiful bag that ever there was caused a lot of sighs and there may have been a reminder about how I just got rid of a bunch of purses and you know what, that’s right!! I had just gotten rid of a bunch of purses. To clean things out. To purge. To make room for something new, better, perfect. A black leather origami style doctor’s bag. Okay a black vegan-leather origami style doctor’s bag.
We walked out of the store without purchasing the bag, strolled over to the coffee shop next door, ordered some tea, and as we were leaving the store just as my kid went to turn left I turned right and marched right back into the store, picked up the purse, placed it on the counter, and gleefully handed over money to take home the best damn purse in the world. That very day I named him Bert and we’ve been together ever since.
Sure sure. Sometimes I have to switch to a backpack or laptop bag, but that’s to be expected. Most of the time it’s me and Bert.
And yes, I was thinking of that Bert when I named him. That grouchy lovable felt guy was a huge part of my childhood. And yes, now that you mention it, it is a little sad that Bert the bag didn’t have an Ernie.
And so yes, yesterday when I walked into the back room (affectionately known as the shoe room) of a favorite local consignment store and found the PERFECT little black shoes with all leather uppers in my exact size that had never been worn and looked like they could keep my feet relatively comfortable for hours but be adorable with dresses for sale at a hugely discounted price, yes I did snatch them up, call them Ernie, and bring them home so Bert could meet his soul mate.
Look out world, Bert and Ernie have never been more fashionable. And my kid has never been more embarrassed by my naming of inanimate objects.