Skip to main content

Obsession with Little Purses

While I think it's easy to infer my obsession with coin purses stems from my having a little daughter (with little purses of her own) this would be incorrect.

In fact, my need to have these small objects can be traced to my high-school years when I decided that carrying a purse was actually old-lady like, and if it couldn't be squeezed into a 2" x 3" piece of snappable fabric, I wasn't interested. (This has been corrected.)

And so I have collected many a tiny bag -- treasures made from reclaimed cashmere, thread-bare silk bags with needlepoint throughout, even a silk wallet I am told was carried during the Civil War in resplendent red and blue silk. Don't get me started on the mother-of-pearl Victorian calling card cases I think I hookwinked from a seller at the St. James's Church flea market when we lived in London.

And so this is why I am obsessed OBSESSED with this new little book that shows how I can actually MAKE one of these tiny treasures on my own.

Will I actually make this? I can only sigh and look at the topsy turvy pile on my desk that has collected a cobweb or two. But do I want it? OH YES.

From an economical standpoint, coin purses are the perfect accessory for these tight recession-like days. They are demure, not flashy, and carry just enough funds to buy an ice cream cone for a Rabbit and perhaps an afternoon libation for her mama.

Click and drool at will. After all, it's free.


Sugarmama said…
A little tip--you can find these books for WAY cheaper on Etsy. There are a few vendors actually in Japan selling them, and even by airmail they're a much more affordable little gift to yourself. I do love Purl, but I'll support them with my fabric buying habit rather than with my Japanese sewing book habit.
Manhattan Mama said…
Yes, so agree. Purl is way too expensive -- and after visiting them this weekend, have to add, a little on the snooty side. Gave The Rabbit the stink eye while we pick out a bit ($37 worth) of fabric. Even better spot for these books? There's a Japanese book shop near Bryant Park: Kinokuniya. They have an ocean of Japanese craft books at REAL prices. I. Love. Them.

Popular posts from this blog

Apologies for being incommunicado this week and hope none of you out there are too distraught not to be receiving the usual almost-daily MotV missives. The reason for the silence is that I'm up to my neck, metaphorically-speaking, in research papers for my first grad course assessment. This experience has made me realise how rigorously un-academic I am in my thinking. It has also illuminated how reliant I am on red wine in order to get through endless evenings typing furiously on my laptop, not to mention the fueling of increasingly colorful curses that I feel obliged to aim at the University's online library system which consistently refuses to spit out any of the journals I'm desperate for (I refuse to believe this is 100% due to my technical incompetence...)Oh well, if this is the price one has to pay in order to realize a long-cherished dream then it's not all that bad... No one ever said a mid-life career change would be easy. Wish me luck!

Recommended & the Mahiki dance-off

My GFs and I went to Mahiki last night, great fun as usual but made me feel a bit old; it seems that Thursday night is the playground of the just-past-pubescent. Oh well. Good tunes though, so whatever.In between taking over the dancefloor - the youngsters may have youth on their side but frankly that shrinks to insignificance in the face of two decades of clubbing experience - one of my GFs and I got into a conversation about why so many people are full of bull.It appears that many people we come across are content to live their lives in a superficial way, skimming the surface of what life has to offer and equating the ownership of stuff (cars, houses, boats, jewelry, designer clothes) with happiness. They converse in terms of status, strut their possessions as a measure of their own self-worth, take themselves far too seriously, are quick to judge others, easily annoyed, complain a lot about very little and their worries seem to far outweigh their joys. Personally, I think all that…


Following on from the realisation that my lungs are filthy and if I don't give up the smokes soon I face a life of wheezing at best, off I trotted to see the charming Dr T.

Dr T, who's charming by virtue of the fact that he's less jaded than the other doctors in the surgery (in other words, he treats patients as if they're human beings with a right to NHS services rather than annoying fraudsters trying to gain sympathy for imaginary illnesses) promptly put me on potentially habit-forming drugs to get me off the evil weed. Something doesn't feel quite right about this but since I'm so pathetically grateful to have a doctor who's willing to give me more than two seconds of his precious time, I have acquiesced to his demands.

Anyway, this wonder drug is called Champix and promises to have me merrily chucking my smokes in the bin in no time. Or it will if I can get past the possible side effects, the highlights being abnormal dreams, nausea, flatulence, snoring, …