Do Purses or Pockets Hold Their Own?
I mpedimenta. That’s the word the ancient Romans used for those personal possessions that we have no choice but to carry with us. Money, keys, handkerchiefs, business cards, breath mints--the word is as apropos today as it was then. But how best to cart it all about? Not surprisingly, men and women have opted for radically different systems. It’s purses versus pockets, and may the best, uh, person, win.
SHE: What could be more logical than a single receptacle that you can actually look into to locate what you need?
HE: Two or three in which you can reach in and feel what you need. No endless rummaging. Need your keys? Bingo, they’re there.
SHE: No endless rummaging, my foot. There’s nothing more comic than the sight of a man patting himself down like an amateur cop in search of the keys he thought were in this pocket but maybe are in that pocket, but no, wait a minute, how about the inside jacket pocket . . . no, the other inside jacket pocket. Sounds like efficiency by trial and error to me.
HE: But it’s not the system that’s at fault in that scenario; it’s the guy himself. If some dolt keeps putting his keys or wallet in different pockets each day, he deserves to look foolish when he loses track of them.
But if you want to talk about the comedy hall of fame, let’s talk about the woman with the purse the size of a double-strength Hefty bag diving in to scour for a perfume atomizer. The rattling sound alone is enough to make your fillings hurt.
SHE: She’s not always scavenging for something of hers, you know. Do the cries of “Honey, can you carry the extra videocassettes in your purse?” and “Honey, slip the salt and pepper shakers into your bag when the waiter’s not looking” sound familiar? Is it my imagination, or does the size of a woman’s handbag grow in direct proportion to the amount of impedimenta her companion can’t shove into his pockets?
HE: Oh, no, you’re not going to slip that one by. I have never seen, known, or heard of any guy showing up at a woman’s house for, say, a date and carrying an armful of stuff that he just can’t wedge into his pockets.
No. He shows up with perhaps a little gift for her and that’s it.
On the other hand, if she slings something that looks like a diplomatic courier’s pouch over her shoulder he knows he’s in for it. Once she starts burrowing in that thing, she’ll never come out.
SHE: Oh, please. You know everyone puts themselves together with a little more verve for a date, even the occasional man. We’re talking real life here. And from the fashion point of view, a neat, beautifully appointed handbag that sets off a woman’s outfit sure beats the malignant-tennis-ball look men opt for once they start shoving screwed-up handkerchiefs, bulging key chains, sunglasses and vials of antihistamine pills into their pants pockets.
HE: I’ll go for the “neat” handbag, sure. That has nothing at all to do with verve, though. We’re talking pure practicality. A man can avoid the bulging pockets by folding that handkerchief and using a key case, which folds flat, rather than a ring or a fob. If it ruins the line of your clothes, you probably don’t need it.
A woman can look a lot more chic with something she doesn’t need a derrick to lift. For her part, if the weight of a purse causes curvature of the spine, she can probably lose an item or two.
SHE: Aha! So now it’s, “You vill fold zee handkerchief, ja! Und you vill use zee key case at all times.” The fashion dictator has struck! Let’s presume, for the sake of argument, that men still have a choice in these matters. Why won’t men just concede defeat and use a purse?
I bought one for my husband in the early ‘80’s when they flooded the market one season, and he loved it. Except he kept leaving it wherever he went. This seems to have less and less to do with aesthetics and more and more to do with a habit that won’t die.
HE: He wasn’t misplacing it, he was ditching it. I can see it now: Legions of men, watching football, and on comes a commercial that says, “Hey, soldier, when you want to be at ease and still pack the gear, why not go for the new Louis Vuitton Power Purse?” Screams. Shouts. Curses. Vows never to carry anything so large that it can’t fit into a shoulder holster.
SHE: There’s that high-volume I’m-no-sissy knee-jerk stuff again. Look, scoff all you want. The real beauty of a handbag is that a woman can literally pack her little world into it and be self-contained at all times. Lipstick, tissues, comb, eyedrops, high school graduation photo, lucky Caesar’s Palace chip--it’s all there ready for the next adventure, whether it’s overnighting in a one-horse town thanks to a blown transmission or jetting off to Acapulco for the day on a whim.
HE: And the beauty of not having to carry a handbag boils down to five items: folding money, driver’s license, credit card, handkerchief, keys. Go anywhere, do anything and fit everything you need into two pockets. I’ll travel light and I’ll be in Acapulco ‘afore ye.
