Godammit, I’m Mad!

First of all, that Hermes lady is fucking nuts about her photos. She doesn’t want her photos used to mock her. They are there for praise only! They are there for gloating, not for you internet people to copy and ridicule. I found this picture on flickr, Hermes Lady, so relax.

I wasn’t able to force myself to go through 30something pages of her boasting about her Hermes purchases and the attendant ass-kissing. But I think I got the gist of it.

Here is the situation. Hermes is a symbol of wealth and success. Nothing more or less. A woman who spends a fortune at Hermes and then documents it online is a person desperately in need of love and self-esteem. There isn’t enough Hermes in the whole world to assure her of her intrinsic worth.  It’s a mug’s game.

Consumption at this level is very sad. All shopping is a defense against the knowledge of our mortality. It’s a stupid distraction that exists to enrich corporations and to numb the appetites of the soul.

Look in your closet and think about which outfits would make you happy if a family member died in a car crash. Look at your shoes and then look at this picture.

The Hermes Lady is a picture of insecurity, distorted by money and self-delusion. She is a waste of our time. Turn your eyes away from that lady and her ridiculous merchandise.

You already have everything you need to be happy.

Don’t worry about shoes or handbags. Listen to music, look at some art or have sex instead. You’ll thank me later.

This Hermes Birkin bag is available at 1st dibs for $85,000. Can we figure out why?

You could get this pink one for only $65,ooo.  That’s a whopping savings of $20,ooo. But maybe you’d feel like a cheapskate if you bought the pink one.  Why quibble about $20,000 when you’re shopping at this level? Grey Himalayan Crocodile says you really care. It says “Classy!”

But!

You could have this blue one for only $12,500! With your savings, you could buy a luxury car or feed all the orphans in Haiti. But now the blue one looks like crap, right? Who wants a crap Birkin bag?

I’d love to hear women justifying the purchase of a Birkin bag, or any bag that telegraphs wealth. “It’s so iconic!” “It’s an investment!” “I’ve always wanted one!”

The only honest explanation is that some consumer goods signify status to other consumers. Other women will admire and envy your wealth, or so you think.

How much of an asshole do you have to be to buy one of these stupid bags?!? It’s almost unfathomable. The only people who would be impressed would be other assholes. If Louis Vuitton made bags that didn’t look like Louis Vuitton bags, would anyone buy them?

From now on, when you see someone wearing anything with a big, high-end logo, point at them and laugh, “HAHAHA, Chanel!” (or Prada, YSL, Dior, whatever.)

Sister Wolf Says:  Even a tiny act of subversiveness can brighten your day.

I can’t understand anti-monarchist sentiments, when the Queen of England has given us all so much pleasure. I first fell for her in 1982, when some guy broke into her bedroom at Buckingham Palace, and she calmly spoke to him for ten minutes until someone came in and rescued her. What a mensch, or whatever you call a woman who can handle shit like this without getting ruffled!

I also like how she won’t let go of her handbag. This is a woman whose handbag will never, ever be sat upon by some fat bitch at a dinner party. People always like to wonder what she keeps in her bag, but I couldn’t care less. I’d rather know what brand she likes, besides Launer.  As we all know, Lady Di loved Lana Marx bags, and who wouldn’t??

My brother-in-law received an OBE or MBE from the Queen, who pinned a medal to his coat (unless I dreamt that part…he did show me the medal in its special box, though.) So that makes me feel close to her. Her husband is a different story. Why does he look like a Nazi war criminal? Not that he isn’t a fun person in his own right; here is a list of some of his famous  gaffes, which tend to be racist in nature. One can only imagine what he said to Her Majesty after their meeting with the Obama’s.

I like to think she gave him a little smack and replied, “Oh Philip, don’t be a cunt!”

Imagine how thrilled I was to see the metallic green Marni bag on the left for $1,815 at net-a-porter! It reminded me of my metallic green Not Rational handbag that I got on sale for $75, because no one was stupid enough to pay the original price of $550. I bought it at a swanky store called Traffic. I think I squealed something like “Oh god, what an offensive color!”  I meant it in a good way.

After I paid for it, the sales assistant offered to keep an eye out for other offensive bags. I said “Sure,” because it was easier than explaining the difference between Good Offensive and regular offensive.

I have never used this bag, which normally hangs from my tailor’s dummy when it isn’t posing gracefully on the commode. On its other side it has two pockets with snaps. It is incredibly soft. I don’t expect to put it into play.

If you’ve ever saved a lot of money by shopping for something you will never wear, let’s hear about it!

None of us like Handbag Snobbery (unless we are the ones disparaging someone else’s choice of handbag.) I don’t even like it when a person praises my handbag, for god sake. When Susie B wrote about suffering the disdainful gaze of two awful Handbag Snobs on a train, my heart went out to her.  I should start making little badges that say “Please don’t stare at my handbag.”

It’s a difficult situation if you care about style and fashion. I love my bags for being both beautiful and expensive. I love them for being not the ones that are obvious and popular. But on some occasions, I don’t want the burden of my enormous handbag. So I pack my essentials into a bag that I selected for it’s stomach-turning ugliness.

Check out its ugly features. The flower thing made out of a zipper, the studded wristlet, the gold handcuff things dangling there for no reason, and the purple plastic that is actually transparent even though you can’t tell from the picture. It is eight X five inches of pure eyesore.  All that for $11.

And speaking of eyesore, today at the mall I walked past a shoe-store window and was assaulted by a vision from hell itself: Gladiator sandals in a rainbow of awful colors, signifying to me that gladiators have not only jumped the shark, they have eaten and regurgitated the shark. Behold the wares of Shiekh shoes.

Sometimes the Holy Grail reveals itself when you’re just screwing around on the internet. That’s how I discovered Natalia Brilli, a designer whose fetishistic handbags and accessories are inspirational works of art.  Why won’t someone buy me her deer-head purse, when I so obviously deserve it??