To bag or not to bag...holy crap, it's RM10000 for a bag!

The sparkly floor was so spot-free I can see the inside of my nostrils. A faint smell of leather and polish emanated from every corner of the store. Oddly enough, an odour more commonly found in a dingy coffeeshops serving mixed rice could be detected as well. I believe vegetables and two sides of meat were involved. A store help sees us as we push the heavy iron doors but doesn't help nor smile as he greeted us, his eyes scanning my stained (first time wearing!) Timberland tee. I cough into the help's direction, mumbling sorryassholeyoulooklikeahedgehog. Them polishing liquids do give off such strong smells. We browse the shelves, inspecting the bags diligently whilst trying to coolly locate the price tag. We baulk at the price but without so much as a surprised look, we shake our heads and say we don't like the colour.

We walk away and into another store, hoping our skittish bourgeois-yet-want-to-be-uppity behaviour won't make us drop a RM5000 bag onto the floor. We did that a couple times already.  

With the proliferation of upscale shopping centres mushrooming across the city so are the high of high-end brands making their presence known. It must be said that business is booming as women are bagging (pardon the pun) one bag after another with nary a blink of an eye. Not surprisingly, the women who are buying the bags are like you and me, not poor enough to be called poor (we always say we're poor but we still end up getting Starbucks or Coffee Bean every other time, hmm...) or rich enough to be called rich. It's funny that these women are so into the brands they can't pronounce them properly: Plada, Bluebelly, Looeeee Vooooton, Herpes, the list goes on.

You can literally see the vulturous look in their eyes, the glint of insanity behind their oversized sunglasses, even saliva dripping down their neck as they eye a tote that holds brilliantly one pack of tissue paper. And that's just the daughters. Their mothers are worse, grilling the store help with one question after another and shouting at their friends whom they've brought along, "Wah, this bag so nice wan la! Got red colour for this ah?"

And I thought having a Crumpler was the zenith of bagdom.

Now, if you'll excuse me, I hear an aunt wants to go to Crotch.

This is Chris, signing off.

PS: High-end bags are more of a craze here compared to high-end shoes, so I've noticed. Not sure why but maybe some aunties don't cut their toenails.