The Pink Puff Purse
Today I made an impulse purchase. I don't know why I just saw the colour and bought it. There wasn't even a reasonable price attached to it. It was a small pink clutch purse, the colour reminded me of something 'I Dream of Genie"-esque, and as I was walking home from Melrose market I thought, "Why on earth did I buy that bag?" I didn't regret it immensely and at that point I saw no reason to dwell on it. But there was something beautiful about it. Something perfect in the way it hung like a cloud, cushion or puff that attracted me to it. It was so princess, madam frou frou like that it is not only what a minimalist would call an 'impulse purchase for ones fantasy self' but i reconciled with the overpriced sale as it possessed somewhat the essence of my great grandmother. She thought herself to be a princess, demanded things like royalty and could easily have pulled off a name like Madame Frou Frou, in fact the name would have had to try and keep up with her. She was a wonderfully, stoic, sharp, entitled and elegant woman. Her fingernails long, perfectly manicured and red as a Chanel lipstick in Rouge 50. Always, delicately accented with a thin, white Alpine cigarette. She once was putting on a rouge lipstick and upon rubbing her lips together she ran two lines along her cheeks like war paint. As a child I was horrified and thought she had lost her mind in an instant. She laughed heartily at my expression and began to blend it in, giving herself a warm and womanly glow. To this day it is my favourite beauty trick.