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Thursday, July 1, 2010

He's Not Heavy, He's My Man Bag

Capital One wants to know "what's in your wallet?"  So does your orthopedist.

(A Little sample of today's Housing Works tote and its Thursday contents. I've carried far worse.)

The other evening I'm having drinks at Soho Grand with Miss JB and crew when I reach down to move her Burberry bag.

"Jeepers, what's in this thing," I grunt as I struggle to lift the cumbersome satchel.

"I know, I know. My back is all tore up from it," she shrugs. Funny, my neck has been troublesome lately since I too tow around quite a cornucopia of cargo.

It's tough as New yorkers. We have no car to tuck all our "not necessary now, but will be later" stuff. If we aren't heading home after work, there's no limits to what we can cart around ourselves all day long: toothbrush, deodorant, book, i-pod, camera, change of clothes, newspaper, wallet, chapstick... you name it. If you build a bag big enough, we will fill it! Where's a rent-a-Sherpa when you need one?

Or a chiropractor cuz whichever side is lucky enough to take the brunt of the purse bulk always hurts. My left side of my neck is a ripe old mess and my shoulder is knots and wonks because I live like a nomad with a "catch all" that's turning more into a catch 22.

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I'm a fashion writer who writes for Bluefly, EDGE Media, VIRAL Fashion, etc. I use "It Can't All Be Dior" as a safe release for my love of coats, cats and cake. Phew!