Some particularly playful writers in the neighborhood have been exposing themselves of late. Now, now. Keep your pants on. Exposing themselves by taking us on a tour of their respective billfolds, wallets and purses.
This glimpse into what we carry around – in billfolds, wallets, purses, bags, and pockets – is illuminating. So I’m joining the fray, but skimming over what is in my wallet, while lingering a bit on what isn’t.
After all, aren’t we a composite of presence and absence? What better in our ever-changing lives, than a glance at both?
Contents of my wallet:
- One weary credit card, behind which are three bright red reminder cards to take care of the… um… less than always dark brown hair. Yep, I paint the occasional strand of gray.
- Assorted scraps of paper and receipts, covered in scribbles with (no doubt) brilliant notes for future essays. Or my grocery list.
- One soon-to-expire museum membership card, and one laminated holiday Starbucks card.
- One business card from my favorite Parisian hotel on the Right Bank.
- Two cards from oo-la-la art galleries (Left Bank), one from a fine lingerie boutique (Right Bank). One appointment card, dentist (no Bank).
- One small stub from the Picasso Museum in Paris, several years old.
- The usual: driver’s license, insurance card, two crisp fives and eight wrinkled ones (it’s a flush week).
- $10 in an “emergency” pocket, 20 euros (in case of a South of France sort of emergency), and two unused tickets for the Paris metro.
- One slightly crumpled but much loved photo of my sons (in 2008), tucked behind the emergency cash.
It’s somehow reassuring (to moi) to know that there are not only metro tickets in my pocket, but two as yet unused in my wallet! As for the roomy shoulder bag in which I carry it, highlights are as follows: paper, maps, pens, makeup (thank you, Christian Dior), purple gloves, Tums, Excedrin, thumb drive, and a pocket French dictionary.
Might one say I was a card carrying Francophile, quite literally?
What isn’t in my wallet (or bag):
What isn’t in my wallet or shoulder bag (Remembrance of Things Past?):
- $50 in emergency money and 50 euros in escapist emergency dreaming. (Bonjour, Recessionary Economy.)
- Four credit cards I used to have, long since put away or canceled. (Hello Recessionary Economy.)
- Two additional museum admission cards in other major cities, allowed to expire. (Hello Recessionary Economy. Is there an echo??)
- Smashbox lip gloss (more easily kept in my cleavage rather than a purse).
- Cutlery, but no steak knives (formerly carried in my brassiere, on a dare).
- Mini salt and pepper shakers. Filled. (Yes, you got it, also once in the cleavage; you never know when you might need a little seasoning.)
- Condoms (the lost dream?) – all twisted pleasure aside, if I still have some in the house, they’re no longer in the wallet. (Nope, not a recessionary issue at all.)
- My favorite feather boa (not in the cleavage, but formerly in the general vicinity).
- A pair of heels – hot ones (frequently carried in the shoulder bag, just in case, red of course).
- An atomizer of my favorite perfume, along with sexy lingerie, preferably a corset or little slip. (La Perla, if Christian Louboutin won’t adopt me, will you?)
- Multivitamins (a woman needs her red meat, and a little boost after all); these now reside on the bathroom sink.
I dare say, my life has gotten dull of late. This inventory not only of what’s “in” but what’s “out” is leaving me bereft.
Perhaps I ought to slip the red feather boa back into my bag, along with the perfume and stilettos. And while I might want to avoid Boomer Boys of the Breastfeeding sort, maybe I should consider the credit card and metro tickets, and head for a locale where I might have occasion to spill – the contents of my carrying on.