Handbags (no Gladrags)

I have three cherished vintage handbags that belonged to my mom.  One dates from the late 1950s, one from the pre-mod 1960s, and the other from the superfly 1970s.

The 1950s and 60s bags are ladylike and proper with these imagined contents: embroidered white hanky, a tube of Revlon’s Cherries in the Snow lipstick, big black sunglasses that made her a mysterious glamour girl, a small hair brush and a compact.

I always thought of the leopard bag (pictured) as her Jackie bag.  She had a sassy little leopard pillbox hat that she often wore with it as part of a “special occasion” outfit.  You know, an adult dinner out, maybe a cocktail party.  Other accessories may have included a fox fur stole and a chunky charm bracelet with a jade heart or glass-encased four-leaf clover dangling from the links.

I coveted the 1970s shoulder bag for years.  She bought it in Vineland, NJ shortly after moving there in 1972.  It was the style of the time—hippie, unlined, tooled heavy leather with leather laces that attached the shoulder strap to the bag.  She carried this bag constantly for almost a decade and I always teased her about borrowing it.  That bag reminds me of her essence—bold, sometimes outrageous, unafraid, and proud.  The imagined contents of this bag would be an Afro pick and car keys, in addition to the oversized black sunglasses, neutral colored lipstick, and embroidered hanky. In her new role as a suburban housewife she also carried shopping lists as well as outgoing and incoming mail retrieved from their post office box.

I haven’t used any of these handbags, but I can’t part with them.  They’re history and they’re style from my mother, my muse.