Fashion
the magic of the birkin
It’s as important in life to have friends who own boats as it is to have friends who own Hermès bags. I once borrowed one from my friend Peggy when I applied for a job at Marie Claire in Paris and because of the bag alone, I knew I could do no wrong.
Last Monday I realized how cool it would be to have something dangling from my arms from Hermès for my Paris trip. Okay, well dangling isn’t the right word. Carrying around a Hermès bag is equal to working your ass off in the gym for two hours with weights that weigh around a kilo. Anyways, Peggy was in Thailand so borrowing her Kelly was a no go, but then there was my friend Maria Kooistra as a serious contender. A couple of months back I held her baby blue (how we referred to her Birkin) and it had been too long since I saw it last.
“Not that I really needed it because who needs a big bag when you walk to and back from school?”
‘I’m in your street this afternoon, I can drop it by your office.’ How’s that for a right transaction. That’s how I think life should be! When I dropped my kids off at school on Tuesday morning before I would leave to Paris, I couldn’t help but take the bag along with me. Not that I really needed it because who needs a big bag when you walk to and back from school? Your keys? Your phone? Doesn’t require a massive bag.
But I really wanted to flash it PLUS it’s always fun to have people stare. Did I really just write that? Yes I did. I’m only human. Besides, I wanted to do some anthropological research about The Bag because I happen to know very well what a bag like this does for you when you walk around Via Condotti in Rome (practically the same as walking on rose petals with champagne in hand) and the Upper East Side in New York where everyone will take a step back and let you pass, but in Haarlem (a city close to Amsterdam where I live)… I was curious to know how the people there would react.
“No greedy glances, no eye rolls, no jealousy.”
However, no one stepped out of my way when I set foot on the school turf. Maybe they were too busy getting their kids to school on time. Or too busy talking to the other moms. Did they really not see what I was walking around with? Or did they think it was normal? All I was hearing in my head was error error error.
Maybe I had to carry it a little higher. Not so low in my hand, but around my arm. More in sight. And when I was walking around the desks to bring my daughter to hers, I held it pontifical in front of me. It almost made my arm sore. So I set my hopes for J’s hip mother who was standing next to her son in her fourteen centimeter heels. But nope, nada. No greedy glances, no eye rolls, no jealousy. None of it.
Had the blue baby its touch? Had everyone gone mad? And blind? I think the latter must be it. When I was in Paris the Birkin had retrieved back her power. People were nodding, I could hear applause, someone stood up and there was champagne.
And that, that is the power of Hermès. For anyone who doesn’t know it, won’t recognize it. Absolutely no one is going to call you overdressed (or I should say ‘over bagged’) because they have no idea that you’re walking around with a bag that’s worth four zero’s. But the people that do know, they bow.
Perhaps that’s the real secret.
