For my 32nd birthday, I was planning to buy the bag of my dreams. It was going to be the splurge of the year; my reward to myself for working so hard juggling my time between my 8-hour day job, 6 & a half days a week, and being a mom to a very inquisitive 3-year-old named Ellie. A couple of weeks ahead of "z birthday", I scoured the Internet to get an idea of how big a chunk of our savings would be eaten up, and obviously, to avoid any on-the-spot fainting spells. I had not expected the brand to be so fashionably elusive so I had to content myself with the official website which took me a bit of time to navigate only to find out that the prices were not available online. At that point, I decided to run to the nearest CH store which was at Festival Centre. It turned out to be a very emotional trip for me as anticipation and dread hovered. I felt victorious for one fluttering moment upon seeing the store which was a combo of quaint and swanky. I reached out for a small, brown, leather bag from the shelf and as I searched clumsily for the price tag, a staff offered me assistance. Trying very hard to conceal my overflowing excitement, I calmly asked how much the bag was. Everything from that moment was a blur. I remember returning the bag to the nice lady, thanking her and smiling nervously all at the same time. I tugged at our 3-year-old, who was busy adoring the pretty carpet, and headed toward the exit. My husband and I talked about it a little more as we walked further away from the bag of my dreams. Needless to say, I came home that night, empty-handed and sulking.
We went to two more different CH stores after that. I was a lot more prepared and less emotional which meant I managed to ask if any of their bags were within the price range I was willing to spend. The staff in their Mirdiff City Centre branch were complete snobs but I still came out of there, unfazed. The third attempt made no sense at all, either I enjoyed torturing myself or deep inside, I had hoped they would out of nowhere go on clearance sale (not happening).
This story, I'm afraid ends in a sad note. A good friend of mine had even suggested I blog about my love for the brand, and perhaps would take the world by storm and help me convince CH to shove one at me. I considered the idea for thirty solid minutes, but realized: A) I am not a writer to begin with B) I can never be convincing enough.
By the way, for my birthday, I got a DKNY bag instead, not exactly the bag of my dreams but I'm still grateful.
This story, I'm afraid ends in a sad note. A good friend of mine had even suggested I blog about my love for the brand, and perhaps would take the world by storm and help me convince CH to shove one at me. I considered the idea for thirty solid minutes, but realized: A) I am not a writer to begin with B) I can never be convincing enough.
By the way, for my birthday, I got a DKNY bag instead, not exactly the bag of my dreams but I'm still grateful.
