Hi, Monday. It's steamy here in Miami and I've been cooped up all weekend with a cold and sore throat- run of the mill change of season variety (in Miami this merely means hot to hot as hell) cold but yuck. I've decided to stay in bed today and tend to it.
So maybe it's the sickness coupled with some monthly maladies, but I was a bit sensitve and blue this weekend. So much so that watching the first two parts of HBO's "Mildred Pierce" had me in a state (so sad). As did "Undercover Millionaire", a take on the very popular "Undercover Boss" in which a kindly millionaire type visits down and out neighborhoods and gives out checks to those in need (sad but uplifting). Don't even get me started on that Jason Bateman/Jennifer Aniston movie- I was weepy at that one too (adorable child and happy ending had me reaching for the tissues).
With all of this TV and movie watching getting the best of me and making my face blotchy, It's no wonder I couldn't sleep last night. (That and the runny nose and cough making me completely mizzo). And from lack of sleep and over stimulation, I found myself all kinds of anxious and awake and needed to think happy thoughts. Unfortunately every time I tried to do so, I simply couldn't get there. That is, until I started thinking about the newest bag from Chloe I spotted in Bloomingdale's last week.
As I lay in bed on my new pillows (which are way too fluffy right now and need to be broken in) with hubby and puppy fast asleep, I summoned an image of the Marcie bag, that gloriously horsey yet femine, leathery, toffee like goodness of a purse that I would gladly endure sleepless nights and sappy movies to procure. As I lay there in a state of hyper insomnia and tried to think happy thoughts, this bag popped into my head, and made me calm a bit and even smile, though thoughts of how I could possibly be thinking of buying this did not (I'm not buying it. It's just a fantasy to keep me from late night doom and gloom).
By now you're probably thinking to yourself what a vapid dunce I am. What, with tears shed over bad television and chick flicks only wiped clean by thoughts of expensive handbags (did I not learn anything from 'Undercover Millionaire'?) . Believe me, I tried thoughts of sandy beaches, family memories, strolls with David through New York back in the day on crisp fall afternoons. I couldn't go to there. Not even chocoloate licorice, which entered my mind's eye at around 1 am. Nothing was easing my pain for some reason, except this damn bag which entered my brain on a cloud accompanied by the sounds of a choir. And that, my cynical friends, is the power of good fashion (and good purses) in a well tooled nutshell. Just thinking about them can ease most pain, and although your happy place may look more like Tahiti or snowy Aspen at Christmas, mine looks a lot like Bloomingdales, and even more like this bag. Sigh...
So as I sit in bed surrounded by tissues, I will think of ways that I can somehow own this little piece of happiness for real, or simply admire it from a distance, in an attempt to ease my considerable ills and chills.
And that's what's up this Marcie of a Monday in the MIA. Is this bag not the END? XO
http://www.net-a-porter.com/am/product/106124?cm_mmc=ProductSearch-_-US-_-Tot...