Coach

Somewhere in mid-November, when I was broke and sitting on my couch alone because I was paying off my credit card, I decided my Christmas present to myself/ reward for getting out of debt/ reward for surviving the year would be a new Coach handbag. I have one of the signature handbags covered in the brown Cs, but this time I had my heart set on creamy black leather.

Two days after Christmas I walked in the Coach factory store among every other woman in the surrounding area. Ladies had 2-3 bags dangling off their arms: at over a $150 a piece, you couldn't tell the economy is in major meltdown mode. I accepted my 10% off certificate the doorman handed me and proceeded in.

I had my mother accompany me this time because I wanted something classic that wouldn't look ridiculous years from now. If I was going to spend this much on a purse, I wanted it to last. However, my mother is abusively frugal and buys her bags secondhand. I didn't know how she would react to my extravagance.

The handbag I had my eye on for months was hanging in the crook of a slender Chinese woman's arm, along with the red version of the bag and several other choices. She had the only black one left and I stared at her forlornly as I stood in line with my okay pick, but it wasn't the one I really wanted. I debated putting mine back and just saving my purse allotment for another day. I knew I couldn't approach her and ask her if she really wanted it, because my asking would just make the desirability of the bag increase. Instead I shifted my weight on each foot and whined my mini-tantrum.

Then she did it. She put the bag down. I immediately ran out of line, picked it up and ran back in line without even asking her. To me, if it was on a table, it was fair game. The tag on the bag read $328. The factory price was marked at $309, marked down again to $146.30. The 10% I received at the door took another $14.63 off and a scuff on the front—the assumed reason the lady put it back—reduced it by another 10%. In the end, my $328 bag sold for $118.50. I threw in another smaller Coach bag my father gave me for Christmas and my final total was $75. Even my mother, who hasn't spent more than $3 on a purse in years, got into the spirit of my deal.

And the best part about it wasn't the $75, but knowing I could afford it free and clear. I splurged on an item without the guilt of the credit card statement or even wondering what else I had to skimp on to afford it. It was mine and I deserved it and every bit of happiness that came along with it. It feels good.

I haven't even used my brown Coach bag since I bought the black one. Every time I look at the black one, I am reminded of how hard I worked and of my accomplishments and the good vibes return and I smile. I have the same feeling with my little car I got last summer. It was my down payment that took me a year to put together and my own loan with my credit and something I had to work at to get. I paid cash for all my other cars, but this one is different because it's nice, not to mention new(ish).

So I guess at the end of the day, I like to work. I like to save and I like to earn the things I have.

And I like them to be nice.