pay it forward ...

I have a funny relationship with handbags. I’m not very good at buying just the right one.

I’ll see a lovely leather tote in a shop while on holidays or touring around. Love it - I think to myself. Then I look at the price tag and pop it back on the shelf.

Fast forward to the time when I am definitely in the market to purchase a new handbag, and I can’t seem to find just the right one for me.

Guilt at spending money on myself, decades in the making. That old adage -genetically programmed into us baby-boomer mothers, to spend our pennies on the kids, or pay the school fees - or the overdue electricity bill. We don’t really need a new bag, and as for expensive underwear - well that’s a whole other story.

But, in recent years I’ve found a way to assuage my guilt and give myself permission to buy that soft piece of beautifully engineered leather that’s begging me to take it home.

Paying it forward.

When I get my new beauty home. I unload the old bag, freeing it of my purse, several packets of half empty tissues, that lipstick caught in the lining - the one I’ve been looking for for several months. Also removed - nine little scraps of paper listing at least three items I needed to pick up at the supermarket, and a cloth shopping bag, nattily folded into the size of a mandarin and secured with a pink elastic band. Most of these items are carefully placed into my new companion; tidily tucked away into the little pockets that lured me to this particular fashion item in the first place

So … what to do with the old bag?

I give it a good clean and pack it with toiletries I’ve been collecting from various hotel stays - no one leaves the shampoo, conditioner, body wash and moisturizer in the hotel room, do they?

I write myself a new supermarket list - small tube of toothpaste,toothbrush, female hygiene products, MY favourite chocolate bar, Panadol and razor and add these items to the old bag. Last to go in is a handwritten note to the new owner of the bag. Words of love and sisterhood.

Next visit into town, I drop the bag into Vinnies so they can give it to someone who’s not as fortunate as I am.

As I walk back to the car, my new leather bag bouncing off my shoulder I feel all’s right with the world - or as good as it can be.