I’m Going to Start Calling this the Vintage Sling Bag Effect.
Featuring an anecdotal character profile of my dad.
“Wow, I love your bag.” The voice of a stranger travels to me from far to near: a kind of doppler effect. The question typically sneaks up from behind me and causes me to trip over myself whilst attempting a 360-degree spin that I am not coordinated enough to land.
Me: “Oh, thank you so much! My dad picked it out for me.” It’s true. Every item I own which has received any compliments in the real world is something either my dad chose for me, chose for my mom (before I “borrowed” it from her closet), or vintage from his own closet.
“Oh, from where?” Naturally, the stranger wants to know where they can get one: their very own brown bag. Unfortunately for them, my dad is the antagonist of brand-name culture, so this question is impossible to answer.
Me: “It’s from a second hand store. I don’t think it has a brand.”
Them: “Oh, darn. It’s so unique. Wow, really - your dad picked that out?”
Me: “Yeah, my dad is the fashionista of the family.” There are many people in my dad’s life who would love to be personally styled by him. However, he keeps his expertise close to his chest (almost exclusively for his beloved wife).
Them: “Oh is he?? That is so interesting! Did he used to work in fashion?”
Me (in my head): oh shoot, did I misrepresent the kind of fashionista he was?
“No, he just loves to shop and has a sense of style.”
Them: “Wow, his taste is impeccable.”
Me: “I agree!”
Soon after this exchange, the conversation usually flows into a variety of topics: current life circumstance, upbringing, past life adventures, and other interests. In other words, my vintage sling bag often serves as the social opener that my dog sometimes plays when I walk him down the street. People just want to chat! And, I am (as my husband will vouch) a chatterbox as well - interested in meeting and finding common ground with practically anyone on the street who may be inclined.
While compliments to my vintage sling bag are not the impetus for all my random acquaintanceships in the wild, it has been responsible for many.
In fact, this past weekend, a particular vintage sling bag moment led to an in-depth conversation between me and a lovely woman in her sixties. After the first few minutes of bag (and dad) compliments, we talked about our respective upbringings and careers. After working most of her career in organizational development, she joined her husband’s San Francisco-based audio equipment company. However, they had to sell that business when her husband needed a kidney transplant (the city life was no longer conducive to the lifestyle and pace they needed for his recovery). That’s when they moved to Sonoma County. After learning this, we geeked out a bit to music and stereo systems (my fashionista father is also an audiophile), and she proceeded to invite me and my father to their home for coffee and more technical chatter about sound equipment. After a few other divergents, this conversation segued into chatting about the travels of their youth (because her husband now has multiple autoimmune disorders that prevent them from leaving town), and the best ice cream she has ever had (at a nameless stall in Mexico City). I happen to be leaving for Mexico City the next day.
And, so, as our time chit-chatting came to a close, we exchanged phone numbers and addresses. I was excited to meet a new friend, and she couldn’t wait to show me the garden she had just finished planting (and the magical home space she and her husband had created).
So, this is my vintage sling bag effect: the existence or interaction with an object in the wild (that may have a certain sentimental history) enabling a deeper connection to form between two humans. I can say that this is how most of the people in my life have entered my universe, and likely me in theirs.
So, why do I share this? In many ways, my experience with this bag reinforces a few ideas for me:
That every object and being has a story to tell. As long as we are curious enough to ask, and the receiver is curious enough to elaborate, the exchange of stories has no limit.
That everything is connected: a bag to my childhood, a houseplant to your mental health, a pen to an ancestor, a scent to a season, a fruit to its predator, a bowl to its contents…
That “reaching out” for companionship (in this increasingly lonely world) can take many forms. With this older woman (who I anticipate will soon become a good friend), this interaction was clearly something we both wanted and was ready to invest in. At the end of our chat, she left me with a hug and sweet thought: “I am so glad we met. I do not often get to meet and chat with younger-aged folks. I would love to do this again.”
If you can’t tell, I love this kind of stuff.
This makes me curious about what vintage sling bags exist in your life. And, can you draw any patterns between that thing and the fabric of your life?
With that thanks for reading, and happy community-gathering! See you on the next page!