the one that got away
Here begins a story about a beloved that I lost and then retrieved years later: a tale of accidental meetings, love at first sight, denial, and—finally—second chances.
I'm not talking about a man. I'm talking about a wallet. Specifically, a gorgeous, stylish clutch wallet.
Every so often this cheapmommy loves to point out to you mom-readers something kid-related that's easy on the eyes and bank account. But today I'm going to talk about the value of a splurge for Mom. For even in my crabby and thrifty life there are brief spells in which I pause to contemplate the momentary thrill that a lovely, luxurious objet can elicit. And then I go back to my glass half full and cheapmommy ways that (some of) you have come to know and love.
Back before I got knocked up, I was living the carefree and careless life of a childless NYC gal, whose biggest responsibility was a bonsai and only reason for rising early was to score something swell at a flea market. One morning, wandering through Brooklyn, I spotted a teeny boutique and went in. It was filled with delectable goodies and, notably, a case full of slim clutch wallets in delicious colors. My own wallet was a sensible affair, perfectly suited to holding my endless collection of expired foreign currencies and ancient business cards...I was definitely in the market for a new wallet, but the sassy clutch in question was out of this Cheapmommy's price range: a fair bit over $100. It was nicely made and totally worth its price considering how much use one gets out of a wallet. Still, it was a shade out of this freelance writer's comfort zone. So I almost bought it, but I didn't. And then I almost bought it, but didn't, all over again.
In the three years since that day, I met Crabhubby (on the subway!) and Crabtot followed pretty quickly. We did serious penny-pinching as new parents, and my wardrobe and general glam-level has gone the way of regular haircuts and well-maintained feet, just as my purses morphed into diaper bags and recyclable totes for transporting the various paraphernalia of grownup mom life. Through it all, that swanky wallet has floated in and out of my thoughts, taunting me with its chicness. Lord knows these things aren't important in the grand scheme! Still, every time I've looked at my frumpacious wallet in the past few years, it has annoyed me and reminded me that, back when, I should have bought that one pretty thing to brighten up my future new-mommy dullness.
My wallet broke its zipper about six months ago and I happened to be back in New York, so I went looking for that boutique. I couldn't remember its name, but thought I knew where it was. I got to the general area but the place was gone; either that or I no longer had my bearings, having fled urban Brooklyn for the country life immediately on becoming a mom.
I held out hope I'd find a wallet just like the one I'd missed, and I saw some similar, but nothing quite a delightful as the original. It loomed in my mind, the Platonic ideal of Clutch Wallets, a symbol of urban swankiness I once might have had, but subsequently lost; a souvenir of an old life that I wanted to take with me. If only I could remember the name of that store! I closed my eyes. I could see the magic word as something fanciful, something to do with stars. A constellation? Cassiopeia, maybe? I looked it up. No joy.
And then, quite randomly, it came to me last week: Castor & Pollux. And I looked it up, and voilà, those clutches of perfection still available for purchase, online as well as at the boutique, which has relocated to Manhattan.
And now, this very day, I've finally tossed my old ugly broken-zippered wallet relic, and feel exceptionally stylish with my new purchase in its posh shade of navy. It feels fabulous and unfamiliar to splurge on something for myself. (And no, I didn't get one for free through my blog.)
Lord knows these things aren't important in the grand scheme. That said, even Cheapmommy has learned: sometimes it's better to have splurged than not to have splurged at all.
Is there something special you've treated yourself to since becoming a mom? Or something you wished you'd bought back when your budget didn't have to stretch to include a baby?
Oh, how I long for a designer handbag! Doesn't even matter which designer, though I am partial to Chanel. They have marvelous knockoffs at a local fleamarket, but it's just not the same thing. Love the clutch wallet! I've been looking for one, but haven't found anything cute enough, or in my price range. The search continues. I think every mom deserves to splurge on something. A happy mom (sometimes) makes for a happy tot.
Ooh! beemama, I hear you on the handbag thing. I was the girl carrying that hideous --but entirely functional--standard-issue hospital diaper bag into the toddler stage, when everyone around me seemed to sport stylish SkipHop bags. I still have a rather grotty purse exploding with receipts and bandaids and whatever-all...must now fix my sights on something delicious in the handbag dept. Perhaps if I dream it, it will come.
Ah, I too was guilty of hanging onto my hospital diaper bag longer than I should have. It had holes in it. But it was made out of oilcloth-type material on the inside and out. So easy to clean! While we're on the topic of designer bags, I'm curious to know your opinion of designer diaper bags. At the pediatrician's office where I work it is not uncommon for mamas to carry Coach or Juicy Couture diaper bags. Now I looooove bags, but this is too much for me. What do you think?
beemama, I could hurl a mass of crabacious insults at those w/ chi-chi diap nags but I do wonder if I wouldn't be guilty of having a svelte one if I could. That said, I think the whole industry of only-the-schmantziest for mom and baby at every turn is a more than a bit nauseating. In short, I'm not advocating hospital diaper bagness for all, and prob would've got a Skiphop one or s-thing if I had the $$, but let's not get carried away... Coach for diap bags? Puh-leeze.
Dear Crabmom,
I've been reading your posts here for a long while--long before I had any need for the rest of Cookie's content--simply because I liked your voice and your insistence on rational motherhood. I've learned a lot from you, things I'm noticing are becoming all the more relevant now that I'm pregnant (and crabby/ambivalent on just about every point thereof).
But today.
Today you have outdone yourself.
Let me tell you a story.
There once was a beautiful clutch wallet, chestnut leather with a gold ball closure. Room for change, and cards, but not excessive in size--a modest wallet until closer inspection could reveal its fine workmanship and buttery texture. It was purchased on a whim because it was on sale and seemed fitting, but over time it became the most loved wallet in the world, the Velveteen Rabbit of wallets.
And then one terrible night in Brooklyn, the apartment the wallet lived in was burglarized, and the wallet was stolen. It was not the most expensive or the most precious of the missing things, and its owner (who had been sleeping when the apartment door was broken down) had too much on her mind to care much for the little wallet and its fate in the great wide world.
But as her separation from the wallet grew longer, she realized just how special it was. Months passed and she refused to commit to a replacement, carrying things about in sandwich bags and envelopes. It was all very sad indeed.
The following Christmas, tired of her baggies and depressed by her envelopes of coinage, the owner's husband bought her a new wallet, one he was sure came as close as any ever could to replicating the original. And true, it did have the ball clasp and the change pocket and the buttery texture. But it was also the color of poppies, and the owner knew it was meant for a person of much greater optimism than herself. It was hard for her to tell her husband, who had filled the too-happy wallet with gift cards to her favorite lunch spots and fortunes culled from a thousand cookies opened and discarded. But tell him she did, and though he was heartbroken, the bright smiling wallet was returned.
Happily, the husband found a second replacement in a matter of days--the poppy wallet in chestnut--and he asked that it be sent forthwith.
His credit card charged, his e-receipt saved, he felt certain the perfect Christmas gift could still be had. And then suddenly, without warning, the order was cancelled: the wallets were out of stock, not to be refilled. Would he, perhaps, like one in poppy?
In the end, the owner and her husband looked high and low the world over, but never found anything like either the Velveteen Rabbit wallet or the Christmas wallet, and as the winter turned to spring and the spring to summer, she admitted that the sandwich baggies were growing a bit undignified. Still unwilling to settle, she moved her cards into an old plastic zipper pouch, where they live to this day.
But soon--very, very soon--their new home will arrive: a perfect, ball-clasped wallet in chestnut leather with a gold frame and just the right amount of optimism. That this new home will arrive a mere 10 weeks before the owner's baby is born--a time marked by disgust with others, oneself, all forms of the word "excited" and lo, the very Infant Industrial Complex itself--couldn't be more fitting.
I cannot thank you enough.
Heather
heather:
could your missing wallet seriously be....the one pictured here? I mean, is my wallet the same kind as the one you lost?
It can't be true! or are you saying the wallets pictured here are close enough to merit purchasing in replacement?
I too like the chestnut color.
Your essay was a delight. Happy baby, happy new wallet.
Oh no, the magic was not quite *that* extensive. The wallet you found is not my original one--just a lovely, lovely replacement in a world that, apparently, wants for classic-but-hip clutch wallets.
In any case, this one made my day.