You know those articles in magazines like US Weekly and some fashion magazines called “what’s in my bag,” where we get a sneak peek inside the purses of the stars? For copyright purposes, I can’t attach photos of these, but they almost always include the latest greatests from big deal brands (La Mer, NARS, YSL) that usually result in a (or reveal a pre-existing) deal with the manufacturers.
The contents are always immaculately organized, and are usually eco-conscious face creams, totally biodegradable mascara, organic gum, “responsibly made” wallets.
BONE Up On Your Calcium:
Starlet Shailene Woodley doesn’t go anywhere without her thermos of bone broth! And when her lips need a little boost, she uses lipstick straight from her garden: Beets!
Stars! They really ARE just like us!
Every time I turn to it, I think: ‘How stupid is this page? Who cares to pay attention to what strangers carry in their bags?’ And then as I pore through the pics of things from these presumably spotless bags, I realize that, for some reason, I do!
If a gang of papparazzae ever stop me and ask me to dump out my own bag, this is what they’d find:
Trying To Keep It All Together:
My purse contents currently include a faint urine smell, a small sand toy, a crumpled up (but still useable!) Bed Bath and Beyond coupon, a theraband (obviously), random lists from years ago that I can’t bring myself to throw out, one adult sized sock, and a melted stick of gum wrapped around loose coins and safety pins. The key word here is loose. Everything is loose. I am a hot mess.
Be The Change You Wish To See:
Loose pennies! I forget I have them to pay odd numbered change, then the aforementioned gum inevitably melts onto the pennies making it change I can do nothing with.
Sock It To Me:
One adult sock. Toddler socks would make sense, since I have two kids and they step in puddles and pull them off in the car. But no, I have one adult sock, which opens up so many other questions. Mysteries, really. Where’s it companion? Was it so sweaty/stinky/vile it spontaneously combusted? Did I forget to pack the other one? I’ve developed a bit of A.D.D. since becoming a parent: I’ll be in the middle of a task, like writing a check or swallowing, and forget why I started in the first place.
Lint is The New Black:
I’m fairly certain that the dust and sand at the bottom of my purse account for five pounds of my purse’s weight. Every time I get a new handbag, I swear this one will be different. I will totally keep this one clean, I promise. But each inevitably ends up a veritable clown car: you never know what the fuck is going to come out of it next.
What’s in YOUR bag??