Way back when, before Sex and the City only aired as re-runs, before Facebook.com, before I began life as a college student; I was a MySpace.com junkie.
My best friends – Kinel and Bizz – and I loved nothing more than to take angled photos of ourselves to post on the [in]famous Web site.
One afternoon, I locked myself in the second-floor bathroom of my parents’ house to pose for a new “.com” photo. (Kinel, Bizz and I talked about MySpace so frequently we shortened the name to the .com.)
After posting my one favorite photo from the 30 I took as my new profile picture and posting a hundred bulletins asking people to “comment on my new pic,” I realized that, from the corner of my extended, camera-holding arm, a toilet appeared to be growing from my armpit. How would I ever nab a super hot MySpace boyfriend with a marginally clean toilet bowl projecting from my side?
I like to think that particular photo is one of the reasons I refuse to violate one of my quintessential rules of fashion: No short-strap purses.
If you buy a bag you love, it’s possible some may think of it as an appendage. Someone may literally have to cut your arm off to pry it from your clutches. I understand. I’ve been there. It’s OK. (And I use the term OK loosely. Though I’ve done it myself, it’s still weird and a little unnatural.)
The only time when a beloved bag becomes a problem as an extension of your being is when it has short straps that are hardly adequate for a toddler.
The bag, when carried on your shoulder, looks like a massive growth of cheap fabric exploding from the folds of the armpit. And this is without mentioning that, if the straps are short enough, blood circulation to your arm may be cut off, causing a more serious problem than the ugly oopsies. And it’s a big, ugly oopsies.
Some purses just aren’t meant to be shoulder bags.
Here are a few good rules of thumb: If a bag carried on the shoulder sits so close to the underarm sweat stains appear on the bag, it’s not a shoulder bag. If deodorant marks mimic the zipper pattern on the bag, it’s not a shoulder bag. If the bag begins to reek of body odor, it’s not meant to be a shoulder bag.
(Because sometimes we are immune to our own funk, a good way to judge the stink factor is to pay attention. Take a quick survey of daily happenings. Are people sitting next to you in class when your bag is out? Do you blame the traveling smell on your roommate or the kid who sits next to you in in four of your six classes? Are your friends asking to carry your wallet so you don’t have to be “troubled” to tote the bag? Do you have friends? The truth hurts.)
It is possible, however, to hold onto the bag and carry it in a different position that will be more aesthetically pleasing and less arm-pit invasive.
If it’s uncomfortable for you to carry the bag at the elbow or in your hand – perhaps your motor skills need some fine tuning or arthritis has plagued you at a young age – it may be time to retire the stubby straps and consider something a little roomier.
The logic is astounding.
Chances are, if you’re toting around a bag that looks like a giant skin tag, you have to carry an extra bag. Tsk, tsk; shame on you.
With the over-sized bag fad still in full-swing, there is no excuse to have to carry 85 different bags. Condense. Consolidate. Two thumbs up. Totally awesome.
Make your life easier and carry all the travel- or full-sized amenities your heart desires.
The thought is so novel even I don’t know how I come up with this stuff.
Buy, borrow, steal (OK, no, don’t steal) a new bag. Invest in something big enough to carry everything you need and maybe some things you don’t need.
Even if the bag is bigger than you are, it is guaranteed to look less silly than a purse with pit stains.
Think your bag’s straps are long enough? Think Taylor should be locked in a real dungeon? E-mail her at dungjet@email.uc.edu.
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