Now this shopping trip is more memorable than any other. We could have traveled to the nearest mall, but instead my mother treated me to a very special day. We journeyed all the way to downtown Dallas, many miles from our suburban home. We visited legendary upscale stores, like Neiman Marcus, which still reigns supreme in Dallas for shopping exclusivity. Until this time my parents never spent a lot of money on my clothes—the staple catalogs and discount stores up north suited us just fine. This trip was different. I tried on countless outfits until we purchased a few well-fitting designer basics. She then ushered me to the makeup counter to learn application techniques, though I was only allowed to wear minimal quantities. I was not scolded for my case of the “I-wants.” I was not shamed or made to feel superficial for my desires. Grateful for my mother’s extravagance, I suspected she would suffer some grief from my father when he opened the credit card statement. If this ever occurred, I remained blissfully unaware. My Big D initiation was nearly complete.
More confident in my appearance and happier cultivating new friendships, I began to notice curious purses toted by my peers, many with interesting initials adorning them. Girls up north did not yet carry purses to school. I wondered about these abstractly lettered objects. A weekend trip to the Dallas Galleria soon revealed the world of trophy handbags. Walking past Saks Fifth Avenue, I caught a glimpse of those mysterious letters and dragged my mother to the handbag counter. The abstract G’s and LV’s finally made sense—Gucci and Louis Vuitton. We admired the craftsmanship, the detailing, the gold hardware—the price? Gulp. Clearly beyond my allowance earnings, we walked away, amused and somewhat baffled.
Exploring our new city, I noticed dozens of these prized bags, hundreds of them. The fever was contagious because now I wanted one, too! I dared not ask, but Santa knew my wish. A baby Gucci rested under the Christmas tree that year, faux or original, I do not know, but I carried it for years—my gateway bag.
I was hooked from the moment I opened my Christmas gift and found that Gucci purse. I hope at fourteen I expressed the depth of my gratitude to my parents, but somehow I doubt I did. Carelessly left on a school bus a couple of years later, a thief snatched it, never to be seen again. I later graduated to other designer brands, purses small and large, now having carried dozens over the years. I only own a couple of handbags at a time as I always resell them to help finance my latest indulgence.
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