Put Me in, Coach

I try my hardest to stay away from anything involving the Kardashian family. (If you ever see me hesitate, for even a second or two, to flip the channel past Kris Jenner's new talk show, you have my permission to confiscate my remote and send me to my room.) I find the fact that they are famous to be a sure sign of the impending apocalypse and I want no part in a world that wants anything to do with any of them.

There are countless reasons to support my disdain of all things Kardashian (North West, really?) but I'll just single out the latest - a $30,000 Hermes diaper bag. Yeah, that's right. Someone on this planet actually is stuffing dirty baby clothes into a vessel that cost more than my parents' first house.

My little Kardashian rant (I've been known to have them on a regular basis) serves to get me into my actual point - I've never been able to understand people who spend a lot of money on a purse. It seems like such a utilitarian purchase. You need something to hold your wallet, cellphone, coupons, etc. That much is clear. But as long as Target and TJ Maxx stock a bunch of cute bags that don't set you back more than a week's worth of lattes, I don't see any reason to drop a car payment or two on something that, sooner or later, is going to suffer an open lipstick tube or melted Milky Way.

So, if I'm such a stone-throwing realist, why am I now carrying a Coach bag over my shoulder?

It all started with a Girls' Day Out. After dropping old clothes off at Clothes Mentor (see, I do recycle and reuse), we headed to the nearest Factory Outlet Mall. My daughter, who doesn't share my contempt for designer bags, knew there was a Coach store on the premises and felt like treating herself.

When we walked in, we were handed a coupon informing us that we could take an additional thirty percent off the cost of anything in the already heavily discounted store. Within minutes, my daughter was holding five or six bags gleefully calculating the savings on each. Chastising me for not having anything in my hands, she insisted I "try on" a few. I humored her for awhile but had no intention of walking out of there with anything more than the satisfaction of knowing I was a more savvy shopper than the hordes of intoxicated customers eagerly paying for their armful of over-priced bags.

That's when I saw it. A black bag with relatively unobnoxious Coach lettering on it (why aren't all these manufacturers paying us to advertise their products instead of the other way around???) and a cute little pink flower hanging from its fully adjustable strap. It had hot pink lining, pockets for everything and a magnetic snap that didn't look like it would break anytime soon. It also had the cheapest price tag of anything I'd seen in the store - $198 with half off and the additional thirty percent on top of that. Very functional, very practical, likely to last longer than anything I'd bought at Target, highly approved by my resident personal shopper, and weighing in at a not too horrendous $66.50.

I wonder if this is how it started for Kim Kardashian?

Face Value

Anyone who's been reading this blog for awhile knows how much I love a good bargain. I'm only exaggerating slightly when I say that buying retail is against my religion. I'm crazy about nice clothes but I buy them only when Talbots or Ann Taylor has an end-of-season clearance sale. I scour the Sunday flyers for deals too good to pass up and most of our household items started out on the shelves of TJ Maxx or Homegoods. So how, I ask you, does an inveterate bargain hunter like myself plop down $39 for foundation? I'm about to tell you.

I can't even say I was coerced. No over-the-top cosmetic consultant pressured me into this insanity. No, this time I was completely on my own. I had already bought a high-end concealer a couple of weeks back (when it was buy one, get one free - I keep these moments of lunacy to a bare minimum) and had returned to the store to exchange it for a different shade. That's when the helpful salesgirl got me. "Are you set on using this one?" she said. "If not, I think I can get you something that you'll like a lot better". Having a little time to kill I thought what the hell, let's see what she's got.

She took me to a line of cosmetics that I had never heard of called Napoleon and introduced me to a stick foundation that could double as a concealer. It didn't hurt that the consultant had flawless skin and swore it was all thanks to the product that she was now brushing all over my face. When I finally got a look at what she had done, I had to admit I looked better - not OMG I look forty again better - but the lines looked finer and the pores looked smaller. As she told me the price I remember thinking that I could have four bottles of my previous foundation for the same money but found myself telling her I would take it.

As I got closer to the door, my guilt got the better of me and I turned around and handed it back to her saying, "You know what, I think I'm going to think about it". Walking out with nothing except the product I had brought to return, I settled into the driver's seat and took a look in my rearview mirror. There was no denying that the make-up looked great, even in the harsh afternoon light. My skin looked smoother and had a nice glow. Hell, even the bags under my eyes looked better. That's when it happened. I got out of the car, marched back into the store and informed the stunned salesgirl that I would take that nicely packaged miracle stick after all.

And at that moment, forty bucks felt like a bargain.