Fashion World, Forgive Me, for I have Sinned...

For some reason, I've been thinking a lot about this lately. Probably because I have nothing else to do on the over-crowded city bus than to stare at how other folks accessorize. What, you ask, have I been contemplating so thoroughly?

Coach "Hamptons" signature small hobo bag

The cache of the designer bag. I don't get it.

There, I've said it. The fashion gods will now descend from on-high and smite me with the razor-sharp heel of a four-inch Jimmy Choo stiletto. Okay, perhaps that was a tad over-dramatic.

So here's the thing: Every day, I see women from the ages of 12 to 75 schlepping their things around in monogrammed Louis Vuitton totes; badly-faked Chanel shoulder bags; and the exalted (gasp!) Coach clutch. Every now and then, I can appreciate the aesthetics of these things, though generally I am not one for carrying around a piece that's one big loud ad for its designer. And that's the thing. These bags seem to exist solely to shout "Hey! Look at me! I have had the honour of spending exorbitant amounts of cash on a bag that gives me the privilege of carrying around something attached to this designer's name!"

In some cases, I can understand the excitement, because occasionally a piece really is exquisite, and beautifully well made. But the thing is, in most cases (at least on the bus on which I ride daily) the pieces I'm talking about are simple and underwhelming - a solid black clutch, for example, or a boring monogrammed tote that every second woman on the bus seems to be carrying. So what are you paying for? The quality? Okay, so maybe Louis Vuitton only uses the finest stitching and the most resilient of fabrication techniques, but let's face it - a woman will get sick of her bag and spring for another one long before the seams start to come undone on one of these babies - and I'm guessing that the woman who springs for a designer bag is much more label and season-conscious than her no-name loving counterparts, switching up her bags much more often - so what's the point of putting down the price of some small developing island nations on a purse that will be briefly shown off and then banished to the depths of the closet? I contend that I can find a no-name purse that will work perfectly well for as long as I need it (or until I get tired of it : p); and will more aptly express my unique personality, for a fraction of the price that women pay for these designer treasures.

This all stems from a silly conversation that my co-workers and I had awhile back, now that I think about it. A group of young, fashion-forward ladies was gathered around my colleague's desk, fawning over her recently acquired Coach clutch (a tiny rectangle of nondescript black leather). I just couldn't understand. They turned on me then, eyeing my bright, turquoise faux-leather tote. "That's nice! Where did you get it?" Someone asked, clearly waiting for some name-dropping. And here's the thing - I was momentarily taken in by the label-mania, and was too embarrassed to admit to my bag's no-name status!

"Um, I forget, I got it a long time ago..."

Well, I love my turquoise bag, and now I'm here to stand up for it. I don't need a designer bag to express myself, because I'm about individuality, colour, creativity and my own personal style (at a reasonable price!). I won't have these things dictated to me by a designer, or stamped on my fashion soul with a cute little monogram.