I Can't Find a Thing That Ain't Got That Bling
My wallet died, and I needed a replacement. If you've read this earlier post, or we're personally acquainted, you know I tend to be less-than-thrilled with most modern options, regardless of category. But how hard could it be to find a suitable wallet?
I was already heading to fashionable Buckhead for an appointment, so I'd spend the rest of the morning at Lenox Square. Housing higher-end chains (Anthropologie, Madewell), designer boutiques (Michael Kors), and department stores such as Bloomingdales and Neiman-Marcus, surely the enormous mall held a wallet I could live with. I'd worry about price when I found something I liked.
My new wallet should be well-made and feel good in my hand. It should be small and lightweight (my purse is heavy enough). It should be sleek and smooth, with space for several credit cards, paper money, coins, photographs*, and my constant stream of dry-cleaning claim tickets. An ID window would be a big plus.
As usual, what I wanted and what everyone else wanted were worlds apart. When it comes to wallets, what people want, apparently, is big, covered in logos or initials or both, and dripping with metallic doo-dads.
If you happen to have the initials MK or CK or LV, and want them splattered on your small accessories, you're in luck.
But I don't. And the last time I spent that much time looking at initials, they were my own -- written in the margin of my junior-high-school notebooks, combined in various permutations with those of my current crush.
Many of the wallets reminded me of cars with excessive cladding. You know, that metal or plastic molding that's supposed to impart heightened luxury or sportiness? Can a car be trying too hard?
Can a wallet?
Some models managed to combine both, for the ultimate blinged-out effect:
Sure, there are individuals who, upon finding any of the above wallets would cry, "OMG! It's perfect!" And yes, that's what makes the world interesting. As my mom says, "Fortunately, there's vanilla and chocolate." Yes, yes. That's all well and good. But I still couldn't find a wallet that I, untrendy, unhip dinosaur that I am, really liked.
I did find a few that came close. But, they still weren't perfect, and I could neither justify nor afford the cost ($575 and $750, respectively):
Yes, I'd already searched for a vintage model, and even found an old Coach wallet I liked. It had only the tiniest logo, stamped into the interior. Nearly perfect, but it was too big:
So, I got online. And found this:
Next day, I headed to Nordstrom to see if this Halogen wallet looked (and felt) as good to me in person as it did on the web site. Woohoo! At $58, free from any visible logos, bling, cladding or other silliness, my new wallet makes me happy every time I use it.
* Yes, of course, I'm the last person still carrying actual photographs of my family in my wallet. Are you surprised?