“Oh, this old thing?”
Nope, that’s not right.
“Oh…this old thing?”
Yeah, that’s much worse. Makes it sound like I pulled the bag out of a dusty loft and I don’t think much of it, whereas the vibe I’m going for is that I pulled the bag out of a dusty loft and I’m all over it.
Wow, planning for this slouch bag party is harder than I thought. The idea is that everyone brings a vintage slouch bag, fills it with random objects and you spend the whole evening pulling them out at set intervals and having conversations about them. It’s a normal enough concept- almost trite and overdone- but it’s the picking of the bag that’s giving me a headache.
Everyone’s going to be judging. Watching, waiting, evaluating…judging. And here shall be me, with my old thing that has to be an old thing, but not an old thing, if you know what thing I mean. It’s like a silent content, all surrounding slouch shoulder bags, and the pressure is starting to get to me. Surely someone has a slouch bag from the 1920s just lying around?
I read up on the history as well, as well as the famous Olympics where they came to Australia. This is a vintage item, designed for great things, and I already have my assortment of items. An antique pepper grinder, a rubber rooster (it’s a conversation-starting alternative to a chicken), a small transparent bag of flour (or is it something else…?), a beef ramen-flavoured Kit-Kat from Japan, a lock of Hillary Clinton’s hair and a tire iron.
I’m honestly not even sure how I got that last one. That’s probably going to be the biggest conversation-starter of the night; where did she get a tire iron, ha ha! But I won’t be starting any conversations if I don’t find a brown leather bag that sort of looks like it might be vintage, and one that matches my dress. Stuff it, I’m getting one online and telling everyone that my great great grandmother used it while she was fighting in the trenches.