In the early aughts, I was obsessed with owning a Louis Vuitton monogram canvas bag. Logo-mania was at its peak. Jennifer Lopez was the face of the LV campaign. I was so consumed with my desire to own the monogram, I drained most of an internship stipend to buy my first It Bag: the newly released Louis Vuitton Trouville.
This story doesn’t have a great ending. The Trouville was an unmitigated ROI disaster: The handles were too short, the body was too heavy, and the inner pockets were useless for anything larger than a Q-tip. In the decade I’ve owned the bag, I’ve used it fewer times than I will ever admit. For a pragmatist, it is the ultimate emblem of shame.
After that brutal money drain, I’ve adopted a nihilistic approach to It Bags, although I’m not made of stone. I still buy luxury bags — but I NEVER pay full price or fight for a spot on a waiting list.
That’s because no “It Bag” can possibly fulfill its inherent promise to bathe you in coolness and organize your life’s miscellanea. There’s no such thing as the perfect handbag, and the quest is designed to be never-ending: It keeps you hooked and hunting for your next fix.
Like book publishers, designers are under tremendous pressure to create bestsellers. It Bags tend to be the most lucrative option – unlike clothes, purses don’t have sizes, making it easier to unload inventory without markdowns. The mark-up on handbags is also enormous – as much as 350%.
Ever wonder why the Celine Trapeze tote has such enormous flaps? Or why the Phillip Lim Pashli has such large zippers? Because distinctive features make the bag instantly recognizable. And like YouTube videos, the goal is to go viral. Once you train a customer to identify an It Bag as such, it becomes covetable. Every designer is trying to concoct a miraculous blend of desire and ubiquity – and behind every bag, there’s a team of MBAs measuring the inelastic price point that will enrich the coffers and enrobe the bag in a fig leaf of “exclusivity.”
Once I figured out the cold-blooded business sense behind each bag, the allure drained away.
Now, I approach It Bags the same way I approach cellphones: Late adoption. I wait up to a full decade before buying an It Bag, often at rock-bottom prices in consignment stores. Because I wait so long, I can pinpoint the bags I feel will be long-term classics without succumbing to giddy hysteria or splashy marketing campaigns
My Proenza Schouler PS1 and Balenciaga City bags were 75% off secondhand — and while the bags are nothing new, they’re a seamless part of my style identity, rather than a clone of everyone else.
What’s your shopping philosophy for It Bags? Do you believe in a first mover’s advantage — or do you wait for the “new bag smell” to wear off?