|It was the handbag on the right, except in yellow.|
It's so wrong, isn't it? But I thought it. The handbag was jut so wonderful... And I had only just a week ago been in LV staring lustily at a black ostrich-skin handbag, priced at a cool $10,000. Blessedly, it wasn't slathered in the monogram, which I'm not a huge fan of. As the sales girl said "It isn't immediately obvious that it's Louis Vuitton, but those who really know Louis Vuitton will know. You'll be part of the club."
Yes. I cringed a little. But when I saw that woman's handbag, I knew she was in the Club, and I wished so much to be part of that club. Instead she looked a little disdainfully at my lovely handbag from Buenos Aires (it has character, dammit!) and slightly scuffed heels. Mental note - dress better when in Japanese restaurants.
Anyway. As I stepped out, I gazed across at the Louis Vuitton store and woudn't you know it, the Yayoi Kusuma windows had been unveiled. So now I'm obsessed. I keep staring at my bank account, wondering if it might not notice $10,000 missing (actually, this bag is only (only?) $3,750). Probably.
I'm not going to lie, I am bewildered by the prices of luxury goods. They seem almost arbitrary: a woollen shawl can cost $950, while a very small leather handbag can reach $1,200. I suppose rather than understand the pricing, we are simply meant to smile through our inner horror as though $2,500 is an absolute bargain for a wallet, and hastily make our exit as we promise to "think about it".
I'll think about it once I find that wealthy benefactor.