The problem with false economies is that they're just that...things that seem prudent at the time...yet come back, when you least expect it, pointing fingers and saying "I told you so". Case in point, for quite some time now it's been apparent that a void existed in my life...a gap that could only be filled by a laptop bag that would hold all of my tech gear and (important point) be able to be carried...lifted...and schlepped through an airport without causing an injury.

False economy (that little swine) caused me to buy bags that were (in no particular order)...pretty...vaguely practical...great for the weekend/bad for the laptop...massively over-sized...black. None of which, sadly, fulfilled my requirements. A while ago I found a bag that I thought would meet all my needs but f.e. (that little swine) convinced me that it was too expensive. And so, "economy" set in...and I bought all of the other bags that were (to quote the immortal Goldilocks) "almost right".

A week or so ago...in the battle of Heb vs false economy...I found myself faced, once again, by the-bag-that-was-perfect-yet-too-expensive. This time, false economy was caught unawares by a nifty uppercut, and hit the ground. Yes, Louis Vuitton's icare is...expensive. But...it's practical...everything fits...I'm not in pain five seconds after I pick it up...and...it will last forever. Am I rationalizing? Yes...because I do feel a little guilty about this purchase. Have I learned my lesson...that false economies cost more in the long run...I'd have to say yes to that as well.

When it comes to sale shopping my purchases tend to fall into one of two categories...the entirely luck-based..."oh, my God...I never knew this existed...but now I have to have it in my life...and...it's on sale!"...to what I'm going to label "To the batmobile, Robin!".  Category number two is generally something that I spotted at full price...fell in love with...admitted to myself, with regret, was over-priced (or, worth it, but just too darned expensive)...and then proceeded to monitor its progress with the same beady eye that Batman would have given The Joker if he ran into him at the pub.

Case in point, this very restrained (yet summer-y) little tote...hemp, leather, linen...beautiful, vaguely practical, yet too damned expensive. Until, that is, summer sale met gift card...and then...in the words of the mighty Bat..."Bam! Kapow!"

Continuing upon this week’s travel theme...I usually find myself impervious to the charms of the airport store (unless they’re supplying me with the necessities of life on the road...i.e., water, gum, or magazines). I've never been able to decide who needs an emergency tie-dye wife-beater emblazoned with "New Jersey"...or a bottle of regionally explosive hot sauce that is guaranteed to detonate in your suitcase at 30,000 feet...but, rushing to my gate at Providence airport (after a delay and a couple of (entirely therapeutic) margaritas), I noticed the following...

Now...lobsters are...my childhood pets...my favorite crustacean...and what I will order from even the most land-locked menu. Ergo, even if it meant boarding the plane a little late and having to check my carry on luggage, the bag was a necessity. Heck, at $1.99, it was almost an insult not to buy it.

Now all I need is a lobster lover kit to tuck away inside...

Yesterday was a tribute to the over-enthusiastic logo...the structured...the in-your-face...in fact, the diametric opposite to the subdued charms of the bag I actually ended up buying...bachelor number two..."the over-sized monk", aka the Hartsfield Travel Tote from WANT Les Essentials de la Vie...a restrained combination of leather and organic cotton...voluminous, yet with interior pockets for the essentials that tend to get lost in a large bag...a tranquil workhorse that can be carried by hand, on the shoulder, or slung across the body...stuffed to the gills...or enshrouding the bare minimum in its understated depths...

Back at the beginning of April I mentioned that a new quest was i progress...for a laptop/miscellaneous technological odds and sods bag that would hold everything I need for work and manage to not give me a hernia in the process. The search actually concluded a lot more swiftly than I first imagined...in fact, I ended up finding not one but two bags that met the criteria.

In my head, I think of bachelor number one as "the Eurotrash millionaire"...good looking, expensive, and covered in logos...officially, it's known as Louis Vuitton's Icare...structured, roomy, with the potential to encourage upgrades. The downsides...apart from the logomania which you either love or hate...a certain weightiness even when empty...and...let's face it...the price...all of which means that the EM is on the wishlist for wealthier times...and bachelor number two (who you will meet tomorrow) is "the one".

I'd like to think that the correlation between the number of bicycle-related posts that I do (relatively high)...and the actual amount of time I spend cycling (pathetically low)...indicates the desire to add a little more exercise to my regimen. The reality, as I'll cheerfully admit, is that cycling...in my mind's eye...is of the variety much beloved by movies from the middle of the last century...where well-coiffed ladies...and mischievous gamines...traveled from point A to B...beautifully dressed...rarely displaying even a bead of perspiration...with enviably chic bicycles and baskets.

Which leads me to Kate Spade's Adeline bicycle...a little too vehemently green for my tastes...and (more importantly) the accompanying Essex Bike Scout bag...

Like Superman (before he nipped into the phone booth)...it's mild-mannered cross-body satchel by day...handlebar hugger by night (or "later in the day" for those of you more factual readers).

Finally, an accessory that works for the 99.9% of the time I'm not actually on two wheels.

Frequent readers...or infrequent readers who have the bad luck to check-in on one of my whine-y days...will know that I travel a fair bit for work. Which leads to searches for the best (from both a visual and utilitarian perspective) suitcase...toiletries bag...and any other mobile dumping grounds that would make life easier.

I thought...back in 2009...that my computer/technology toting needs were taken care of. But, while I still adore the lovechild of Eley Kishimoto and Eastpak...and loathed as I am to admit it...it's killing me. As a skirt wearer for a good 90% of the time I can attest to the fact that heavy, cross-body bag and skirt is a combination destined to end badly...walk too fast and your skirt will start creeping up your leg in a most determined manner. Take the risk of flashing the airport...and add in the issue of everything seeming heavier when it's slung across the torso...and it's looking like the lovechild is going to be used for storage at home (where, at the very least, I can still enjoy the fabric).

Which means that I am (once again) hunting for that mythical creature...a bag that is large enough to carry laptop, camera, speakers, external hard-drive, all their attendant cords, and a selection of notebooks and pens. Oh, and not be so heavy when empty that I dislocate my shoulder once I've stowed everything away inside it. Oh (part 2), it also has to look nice (shallow, but, what can you do?)

This particular search, I have a feeling, will not be a fast one. Which is why I was very pleased to find a temporary solution in the children's area at Ikea...massive, striped cotton, with handles for both hand and shoulder...it was a steal for $5.99...and the lack of closure will be taken care of once I add a zip. The only minor irritation...that the Riri zipper I plan on using (navy herringbone tape with antique brass metal pull and teeth) costs three times the price of the bag...

What's not to love about long, lazy, Sundays? Taking a (what on any other day would be an unpardonably) long time to strap on the feedbag...catch up on the week's newspapers (and blogs)...and rouse yourself out of the stupor enough to run a few errands. This leather-handled, fabric tote from Prada strikes me as the perfect lazy-Sunday-food-run bag...possibly because the fabric is nostalgically reminiscent to that of classic, men's pajamas...

Though the above quote is beautiful...and unassailably true...I'm going to follow up with the immortal words of Yogi Bear, "Hey Boo Boo. Take a look at that Pic-a-nic Basket..."

Not just any PB, of course. You'd need to pull out all the stops on the old ant fodder (aka the sandwiches, hard boiled eggs, etc that are standard when one is applying checkered blanket to grass with the general idea of dining) if you were taking Hermès wicker Kelly bag with you. I'm thinking (as I so often do) of Harrods' be-truffled ham and mozzarella baguette...or their equally alluring crayfish BLT...and a half bottle of a nice dry, chilled, white wine...but I'm open to suggestions...and the funding to make this dream a reality...

There are times, shopping-wise, when you're "bad"...then there are times that you wander so far into the realm of shopping madness that you leave bad behind in the dust and move quickly onto "deranged". Friends, I had a deranged day. Lured by Barney's sale signs...intoxicated by a recent run of work...I went a little mad (small, freckle-faced children and sweet little old ladies may have been knocked out of the way and trampled by my progress...I can't remember).

It started, as these things so often do, in the handbag department...my evil nemesis...craftily placed on the ground floor so that it's impossible to move from points "A" to "B" in the store without, however unwittingly, "browsing". Pride...the little swine who pushes you into the void just when you're about to take a careless step...had me mentally patting myself on the back...as I headed into the final straight...towards the elevators...and saw "it". The butter-y soft black leather and dark red lining screaming "ladylike"...the square stud on each handle and triple zips running the length of the bag yelling "punk" in return...the juxtaposition that I love (and find myself returning to over-and-over again) and...it was Céline. I wavered...I vacillated...I picked it up...I put it down...I picked it up again and sauntered over to the mirror. I even put it on hold so that I could walk around for a few hours and try to regain the tattered vestiges of my sanity. Then I walked back and bought it.

That's the point when a sane person...not one caught up in deranged day celebrations (like Christmas, but with fewer decorations and more self-gifting)...would have left the store. I got on the elevator...

As all of these one-of-a-kind bags are sold out this is more a case of a yet-another-item-to-add-to-the-ever-expanding-DIY-idea-list than anything else. A reason (as I'm running out of wall space) to contemplate buying slightly abused...and, in all likelihood, badly painted...canvases from thrift stores...and attempting to give them a new lease of life being both useful and decorative.

On the road...or should that be in the air...again. Somewhat pathetically the ability to take (decent) photographs on my phone...instead of having to excavate my camera from layers of bags...is providing hours of childish amusement...especially when I'm at how-ever-many-thousand feet...

The only thing that would add to this glee would be Want's appropriately named O'Hare bag to grab the phone out of...

Miffy...for those whose childhood may not have included such things...was a small, female, Dutch rabbit...whose minimalistly drawn adventures saw me safely through early childhood. Miffy visited the seaside...the zoo...and even, on one occasion, the hospital. I have to feel though that all of this would have left her sadly unprepared for an encounter with Ginny (Mandy Coon's black leather bunny bag)...unless there was a "Miffy visits a sex shop" volume that I never read...

Not Chanel...but a delightfully classic piece of arm candy nonetheless...in the form of a wholly traditional string shopping bag with the slightly not-so-traditional additions of leather handles and cotton lining. Much more appealing than the equally classic plastic bag...

Normally, it has to be said, I'm not a huge fan of Coach bags...the majority of their design inspiration seeming to be teen-at-the-mall or her older counterpart, mom-at-the-mall...and therefore not something, in the general run of things, that I aspire to. So imagine my surprise when I clicked into their men's bag selection and found these...

...washed vachetta leather...suede with leather trim...practical enough to carry a laptop...and at a price where I won't be completely heartbroken if something spills on it.

Not, perhaps, the structured ladylike box-bag that this season demands...yet infinitely more useful for work...

Though the bandleader-meets-yeti cross-body bag...and its larger cousin, the "is that the abominable snowman on your shoulder or are you just pleased to see me?" bag...are alluring...am I the only one asking themselves who is buying an $800 tote at J Crew...and just how long it will take for the aforementioned bag to have so much dirt nestled within its curly coat that it will look like a lucky thrift store find?

I don't know whether it's because I've been transplanted (as the begonia said to the radish)...or if it's a national trait...but stick a Union Jack on something...embellish it a little...and I'm ready to sing "God Save the Queen" before you can say toad-in-the-hole. Especially if the item in question combines something quintessentially British with the flag...like this shopping bag from Liberty of London...

I can't help but feel that Tomato Neely sounds more like the heroine of a 60's spy-girl movie...someone who'd go for long brunches with Modesty Blaise, Fathom, and The Girl From U.N.C.L.E and spend the time discussing trenchcoats, hotels in Bulgaria, and the latest in poison lipsticks...than a handbag...even if the bag in question meshes functionality with good looks (and utilitarian brown leather with dashing red patent).

Of course, a spy girl needs something to carry her poison lipstick and cosh around in...

There's a scene...near to the beginning of the 60's spy classic, Charade...when Audrey Hepburn's character returns to her luxurious Parisian apartment, Vuitton luggage in tow, and discovers that everything is gone. The cupboards are, quite literally, bare...as are the walls, floors, and every other aspect of the interior landscape. Yet there she stands...impeccably dressed amidst the destruction...looking charmingly elegant, if a little confused.

I mention this because I could think of very little else when I gazed at the pictures of Celine's 2011 resort collection. There was the peeling paint...the bare, empty rooms...and the relentlessly chic young woman pacing the parquet.

There was even a prospective, and fittingly distressed, DIY consideration...in the shape of what can only be termed a tea towel bag...at least, by me, as I'm one of the few people who refuses to use a dishwasher and chooses to hand dry my pots and pans instead. The mind (rather inelegantly, I'll admit) boggles at what the original will cost when it appears on the shelves of Barneys or some similar abode...especially given that rather luxe dish towels can usually be found for under ten dollars...

This summer I seem to be besotted by the classics...cotton...linen...leather...things that have a timeless quality and will, barring mishaps or stain-related incidents involving sunscreen or Slurpees, see me through many summers to come. The most recent items to catch my eye in this category are these French market baskets.

Practical...sturdy...kind to the planet...and so astoundingly 'right' that they'd invest a boring run to the store for some toothpaste with the charm of a stroll through a street market in the south of France...okay, that's maybe going a little too far...but you get the point...