Saturday, 27 September 2014

Emotional Baggages?

While walking down a street, it seemed like everyone was carrying, a bag. I may be over thinking, but I just can't shake off the question, wondering how many of them actually don't have anything in their bags, but just carrying it for the sake of it. The pursuit for labels never stopped, Let it be a fine piece of jewellery from Atelier Versace to a pair of four figured leather pump from Manolo Blahniks, welcome to the new world, where if you want it, hard enough, you can have it.

A woman dressed to impress, with a Chanel Bag hanging by her elbow. She had broken up with her boyfriend 3 weeks ago when she found out he was fooling around with her boss. And to show that he made a great loss, she emptied her bank account, for which she intended to use for emergencies, burnt everything she had previously and chunked in all the designer bags and dresses and shoes she can get with the money she had. Now she's left frazzled, having to order lunch off the value menu.

Another man, sitting by the bench of the mall, munching away on his subway sandwhich. He was a manager at a media company and goal is to earn his first million by 27. He's 35. Hearing his phone ring, knowing that it's probably his boss, he panicked with one hand tried to open his River Island satchel that he bought during a blowout sale back in 2005, only to drop everything on the floor, and broke the buckle.

Another group of young teenagers, laughing and screaming so loudly you would wish you were deaf. The all looked hip, with booty shorts, red hair, and torn stockings. Of them the loudest of them all, was actually the most insecure. After being single for all her life, she decided that she was ugly, and saved up everyday hoping to get plastic surgery one day. In her bag, there was nothing, but her foundation, lipstick, blush and all things makeup. Once every 30 minutes, she'll have to check the mirror or go to the toilet, hoping that she would get someone to be interested in her. She still hasn't got it. It's her noise.

Whenever I saw a person walk past, I'd think of why or how they'd do certain things. I was bored, cynical, but nonetheless intrigued. Maybe people store things that they pray would counter their insecurities. And maybe the counter product was the bag itself. The only thing you are familiar with, the last and only thing you coexist with the day you buy it, to the day you toss it.

Are bags nothing but physical baggages people use to comfort their inner fears?

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