Is anyone else in this chatroom jonesing for a bucket bag? I don’t know what’s come over me — especially considering how averse to handbags I’ve grown in the last two years. Give me a pocket and I will make an honest container of it. Offer me, however, the finest italian leather, stitched beautifully at its intricate seams and watch me shrug.
Here I am, though, scouring the vast Internets for buckets and buckets and buckets of…buckets. I want to blame The Row for having constructed the alpha anterior; this was right around the time the $49,000 crocodile hoopla commenced. People became so consumed either by outrage or benign, amused fascination that no one so much as cared to look at the incredibly modern, plain leather and therefore sufficiently less expensive take on a tale as old as a Coach classic.
Then, last week, at The Row’s sample sale, I came face to face with one. It was beige and ostrich — its skin resembling all too keenly the interface of the deceased Ostrich Skin Clutch.
We could have been together for a wide range of reasons but we were destined to part for an even thicker breadth. I thought we’d say goodbye and that would be it. It might sting for a little, the way bidding farewell to a summer dalliance does, but I certainly didn’t expect that the agitation would, or could, continue. Until, that is, I became a creepy Internet scowler, typing bucket bag into my Google search bar maniacally. And then it occurred to me that if I’m hankering for one, maybe you are too? And that maybe, as a plea to the fashion gods to make this go away without depriving myself (ourselves?) the right to liquid assets, posting and reposting a flood of images of different bags could actually curb the hunger? And enthusiasm?
I just don’t know.
Maybe the answer is in a real, tin, non-gardening bucket. I’ll try it if you will.
Bags credited in slideshow. Now, doesn’t that make life a bit easier?