As my soul-less co-editor (she’s a Ginger, you see) and I hopped into her car preceding a recent night out, Terryl commented on the fact that neither of us had made the switch from our large, kitchen sink-toting handbags to evening out-worthy mini-bags. It wasn’t until later that I realized: my making this transition from big to little is a rarity.

This seems nonsensical, as I think, talk and write about handbags literally daily, and thus should jump at the chance for some variety in the accessory. Yet, I simply do not.

With some thinking, I can point to four reasons why this transit just doesn’ t happen.

Seems impractical.

1. Laziness/time constraint - Though in hindsight, transferring a few necessities from one bag to another seems easy and quick enough, in the moment, it’s just not. Not sure how to explain this phenomena, but I assume my inherent lateness (thanks, Mom) has something to do with it.

2. I really like my day bag – Your favorite bag’s your favorite bag, regardless of size or situation-appropriateness. It is my favorite bag and I just like to have it around. Period.

3. I need all seven tubes of lip gloss - Maybe it’s not lip gloss, but a larger-than-life wallet or an umbrella or a nonperishable. (Terryl had a can of tomato soup in her bag that night, I kid you not.) Some things ya feel ya jus’ need, whether you technically could survive the evening without them or not.

4. I don’t have an evening bag with which I’m obsessed – It’s not that I don’t have evening bags I like, as I own at least two of which I’m quite fond. Why then do they sit bored in my closet? Because I wouldn’t take a bullet for them; they don’t complete me. This sentiment may change though with this impending purchase.

What about you? Do always change your bag for a night out? Or are you plagued by one (or all) of the points above, like me?

Photo credit: Trend911.com

Much to my boyfriend’s (initial) dismay, my last Friday date-night was spent at a local indie movie theater, before the menacing mugs of Anna Wintour and her fellow Voguettes.

The September Issue, the film industry’s most-recent foray into the world of fashion, takes a behind-the-scenes look at the production of Vogue’s 2007 September issue.

From the film’s official website:

“An intimate, funny and surprising look at Anna Wintour and her team of larger-than-life editors as they create this must-have Bible of fashion, Cutler explores the untouchable glamour of Wintour’s Vogue to reveal the extraordinarily passionate people at its heart. He takes us behind the scenes at Fashion Week, to Europe, on shoots and reshoots, and into closed-door staff meetings, bearing witness to an arduous, entertaining, and sometimes emotionally demanding process.”

It’s no big surprise that I la-la-loved the movie. (Case in point: this has long been my favorite t-shirt.)

R.J. Culter, the director, created a tone of substance and magnitude rarely reserved for any fashion-related media outlet (think Zoolander and Bruno). You felt as if you were permitted into a secret society, in which influence and power comes in the form of fabric.

And here’s the kicker…

My boyfriend—a hoodie-wearing, sports watching, sneakers-only-policy, guy’s-guy—liked it too! Yes, he used the word “liked.” Not “tolerated” or “stomached,” but liked. He explained that he was impressed and surprised by the amount of manpower and money that goes into each issue. Amen!

If you have any interest in creative processes (notice I didn’t say fashion!) I really recommend this film. Although a love of handbags wouldn’t hurt.

Click for list of cities.

There aren’t many constants in my life. I mean, yes, I have one of those “real jobs,” but the trials are different ever day.

Some days, I am a communication station and talk to, seemingly, everyone in my little BlackBerry address book, and other days, I feel completely cut off from the world. One day, I’m having a solo dance party in front of my air conditioner and going on a nine-mile run, and the next, I want nothing more than to eat some tater tots and watch Burn After Reading until I fall asleep.

(Yes, tragic comedies soothe me. It’s my party.)

Monday, I’m in sweats; Tuesday, a dress with ma hurr did. I’m usually a night owl, but sometimes I’m passed out before it even reaches the AM! You know, for those nights when I’m feeling *really* responsible.

You get the idea.

But what stays the same? My handbag. THAT’S RIGHT. I wear the same bag for months at a time. Months. And I feel no shame.

I’m a creature of habit, at heart. I’m not a big fan of routines, but familiarity is something I value. I know the exact contents of my bag, and it’s comforting to know everything will be in there as I begin my morning sprint.

There’s comfort in constant.

For example, today was a rough day. I don’t know what started it; Beyonce was my iPod alarm this morning, for goodness’s sake. How that got me started on the wrong foot, I have no idea. It was just all those little things that build and build until I’m tweeting about looking for a fight.

Don’t get me wrong; I’m extremely non-violent by nature (read: I’m a vegan. No joke). But I was ready to RUMBLE.

Now, I wasn’t about to ask for a hug (though I’m sure I would have had, at least, three eager hugs waiting in my love-filled office), but I did need comfort. I don’t know what subconsciously caused me to feel the need to have my bag near, but before I knew it, we were sharing my chair.

Sitting right behind me, my soft, quilted Sami gave me silent comfort. Who knows why? The contents were nothing sentimental. The bag itself is just that: a bag. But the slight weight of it against my lower back was enough to calm my nerves.

Maybe it’s because I’m used to having him around. Maybe I’m slightly obsessive. Or maybe there’s just comfort in constant.