I am admittedly in a torrid love affair with my Michael Kors purses, particularly the Astor style (in luggage). They drive me wild with excitement - even (especially!) the ones I've owned over half a decade.
This little clutch was the gateway Michael Kors, purchased from the Von Maur department store in Iowa City, Iowa. Maybe in 2007? Early 2008? It was on clearance for about $30 and I was enchanted by the beautiful tan leather and subtle silver accents. To me, it felt so very early 1970s Almost Famous.
By fall of 2008, I was ready to take the plunge with this much larger catch-all purse. MJ helped me date the purchase by remembering that when it was pretty brand new, we went to Washington, Missouri to see the Gougers at a little place called Otis Campbell's and the sweet drummer, John Ross Silva, got a Sharpie mark on it (I never revealed this to him). My trusty old battle axe has since seen so much action that the mark I figured was permanent exists only in this memory.
By spring of 2010, my big Michael Kors purse was feeling a little too big to be my full-time purse and I scaled it down a notch with this stocky guy above. I ordered it online and my cute cute cute postman (who looks like a young Mexican President Obama) knew I was waiting for it. Even though I had it sent to my home address, he brought it to my work so I wouldn't have to wait so long. I nearly jumped over my desk when he walked in with it in his hands.
My latest addition to the family is this little dude, a cross-body purse just big enough for phone, keys, Chapstick, cash and concert tickets. It's perfect for shows and outings, but I'm currently using it as my regular purse to break it in a little bit.
I have done nothing to care for my Michael Kors except love them desperately. They've been kicked around, caught in the rain, drenched in beer, dropped in the mud and abused in all the ways we hurt the things we love the most. And the magic is even stronger now than the first time ever I saw them. Thank you, Michael, thank you.