Writers Write

Cowgirl Purse

Cowgirlpurse2I love the thrift shop. After all, who can resist a pair of Stuart Weitzman pumps, slightly too narrow, under ten bucks? So when I saw the red cowgirl purse, I snatched her up. Isn’t she cool? Check out the beadwork, the color, the size. The bag never fails to elicit a complement. “So retro! I wish I could pull off that look.”

But the pocketbook has a problem, a plastic zipper that separates and splits at the worst possible moment, like in the checkout line at the supermarket. I stack my groceries on the counter. The bag, slung over one arm, tips to 45 degrees. It’s then I’m forced to ask myself, Why carry five tubes of Revlon Super Lustrous Lipstick, all in shades of red? The tubes nest between a package of pork chops and a carton of soy milk, cylinders spinning in sequence with the conveyor belt.

If my timing is exceptional, the zipper waits to fail in the car, depositing my wallet under the third row bench seat. I live to crawl around on the floor of the Grand Caravan, searching for my errant library card.

I suppose that’s why The Cowgirl ended up at Goodwill in the first place. I can’t bear to part with her, but after a few days, I switch back to the plain black leather with the industrial strength closure. I stable The Cowgirl up in the top of the closet, next to those Stuart Weitzman pumps, too narrow to wear.




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