The Art of the Suitcase
The open suitcase in this photo died last week. The large one in the photo still lives and breathes, but I’m in mourning. That smaller suitcase went everywhere with me. And in the case of certain destinations (Macomb, Illinois, to be exact), it was the only suitcase welcomed by my hosts.
Shopping for suitcases isn’t my strong point. And since they usually last me a long time, and I’m talking ten years at a time, it’s not often I’ve had to shop for suitcases.
But now I have no choice but to move forward. Travel season is coming up. I need a new bag.
My old bags are/were some kind of name (ish) brand. Not cheap. Not Louis Vuitton either. But they were a set. The day I bought these bags, I felt good knowing for the first time in my peripatetic life I had matching bags.
Am I going to go out and buy a whole new matching set? No. No, I sure as hell am not. I’m going to remember the brief period of Camelot when all my bags matched. I’m going to remember those days with terrible fondness, but I will move forward. At least three people, including one who could get his bags from Louis Vuitton if he so desired, told me the place to go for luggage is TJ Maxx.
So okay. I’ll go into the nearest TJ Maxx, which is conveniently next door to a Barnes and Noble and a big movie complex. And, while undertaking the onerous task of replacing the best piece of luggage I ever had, I will ease the pain with the purchase of some new books and the viewing of a movie while eating buttered popcorn.