There's a distinct possibility that, by week's end, I'll be the new owner of luggage, a suit, and leather heels.
I bought luggage this morning. I got my first set of luggage (a forest green, $100 Costco set I loved) when I was 18. I felt like an adult having that luggage--matching, versatile, utile. But it died after twelve or so transcontinental Salt Lake-to-NY flights, and I've been pretending for the last three years that I can live without luggage. Can do without it. (See imaginarily attached diagram of garbage sack, canvas bag, Beth Hedengren-donated backpack, duct-taped boxed contraptions.) But I'm heading off to law school (tomorrow on a plane to see my best friend, Laura A. T. and co.) and to a new life. And I needed luggage.
I've traveled a lot this summer (see previous blog) and so have spent some moments--on beds, airplanes, trains, buses, ferries, and a moped; in beds, cars, taxis, subways; at baggage carousels and open trunks around the world--considering what my ideal set of luggage would be.
Four pieces: (1) giant suitcase, (2) normal large suitcase, (3) large duffel bag (similar size as normal large suitcase), and (4) roller-board carryon. All with pockets. All with wheels and straps and handles and zippers (strong, strong zippers). And red.
That's really all there is to my story, except the important part, which is to say I bought it this morning, with fake money I don't have but have budgeted for, on an impulse stop at Village Luggage (villageluggage.com, supposedly), which Mom and Peter and I passed on our way to donate blood. Apparently people do shop at those fairly easy-to-miss stores throughout Long Island. (Peter asked: "How do they ever make money?" And I said: "They've been open today for six minutes, and I just spent $300.") I did not, however, buy the roller-board carryon, which would have been an additional $80 plus tax. (Though I did get a compl(e/i)mentary tote.) And it's all monogrammed--SLO. S L O. Which will, I suppose, work better than my first plan, which was to identify my luggage by a faded blue and orange handkerchief (aka doo rag) from girls' camp of yore I was otherwise going to tie to the bags. Though, to be professional, I maybe could have convinced myself to purchase a new one. In silk.