Elle Squared

Are You a Bag Lady Like Me?

Doni Landy
Me and my first bag.

Me and my first bag.

“Where are my keys? WHERE ARE MY KEYS?”

This time it is actually one key I can't locate, one I had searched high and low for, found, and then lost again. My safe deposit box key had gone missing for years until it recently appeared out of nowhere at the bottom of a bag I don't often wear.

When I first discovered the key, I felt as though I had stumbled on a hidden treasure, a key to a tiny piece of closure, a check I could put on my endless To-Do list, which included closing a safe deposit box I no longer use. So I put a reminder on my calendar to go to the bank and tossed the key in the bag I had with me that day. The only problem is now I don’t remember which bag that was because, to be blunt, I am a bit of a bag lady, and in more ways than one.   

Even as a little girl, I was obsessed with bags. I couldn’t have been more than two years old when my mom first snapped a picture of me wearing one of her Lancome totes around the house. My interest was piqued.

In the sixth grade, my grandparents bought me a Longchamp bag when they visited Paris. The burgundy cross-body bag immediately became one of my most prized possessions, and I felt so grown up wearing it. The feeling was warranted; the bag accompanied me on my first-ever walk from home to town with one of my best friend, Marci, from school.

My Longchamp bag after the "accident."

My Longchamp bag after the "accident."

Then the unthinkable happened. While running across the street, I dropped my bag. With no time to grab it, I looked on in horror from the safety of the sidewalk as a car ran over it. Filled with an assortment of lip glosses and a collection of mirrors (because when you’re 11 years old, you need more than five with you at all times), the bag and its contents were destroyed. I returned home panicked and told my mom the bad news. Not only was my most favorite gift ruined, but I was also destined for seven years of bad luck!

Fortunately for me, my luck changed for the better when on my thirteenth birthday my mom gave me the same Il Bisonte cross-body bag that all of my camp friends from Long Island were wearing. Again, I filled my bag with all of my favorite things – seven #44 lip glosses from the flea market plus a real Lancome one, as well as pictures of all my friends taken during my last birthday party.

As time would tell though, my seven years was not yet up. Soon after, on an afternoon during school recess just before bio lab, I left my bag on the floor to go to the bathroom. When I returned, the bag was gone. Someone had stolen it! So shaken from the ordeal, my mom diagnosed me with PTBD – Post Traumatic Bag Disorder, which I have been suffering from ever since. My treatment began with my mom buying me the same bag, and a wallet for all of my troubles, and I used both happily for years. My luck finally had changed for the better.

Today, I treat my “condition” by frequently adding new bags to my collection whenever I find ones that I love, which, in my line of work, is often. I no longer carry a lot of mirrors but believe a girl can never have too many lip glosses. Or fragrances. Or key chains. That reminds me, I better look for my key. Because, who knows, I might find some other lost treasures when I do.

Doni Feinberg Landy, Esq. is a mom, entrepreneur, store owner, lawyer, blogger, talent manager/agent, bag lady, and jewelry junkie.

What goodies do you keep in your favorite bag? Here's a look at mine: