Purse Traditions

On an elevator ride from the 21st floor to the ground, I did the following: pulled a tissue out of a pocket tissue holder in my purse and blew my nose, pulled a lipstick container with little pocket mirror out of my purse and reapplied my lipstick, and pulled a piece of gum out of my purse and chewed it.

As the doors opened on the ground floor I realized that all three things I carried in my purse were things I associated with my mother and grandmother's purses.

For both women I have distinct mental images of them taking lipstick out of their purse and applying it before getting out of the car to go to the store. I remember both women being able to whip a tissue out of their purse and wipe my face as ice cream or snot dripped down it during a drive.

Whenever my cousin and I wanted a candy and couldn't find one in the kitchen or some candy dish, we relied on finding a spare in my grandmother's purse. She was generous with her supply and had an "open purse" policy. My mother did not. She would share, but she guarded her stash.

As a teenager, I thought the pocket tissue pack and pocket mirror were fussy and vowed to never carry them. It seemed that holding a spare tissue and looking in a shop window would suffice. Besides, I tried to go out without carrying a purse at all. It seemed really uncool to haul so much stuff around.

I didn't break down and get the lipstick case and tissue pack until I was in my late 30s. Almost every time I use them I am reminded of the many ways that I have followed the habits of my mother and grandmother.

In some respects it seems like a defeat because I feel the need to cart around a bunch of stuff and fuss about how I look and what I smell like. On the other hand, I am prepared for an impromptu job interview. Ultimately, I'd rather endure the nuisance of schlepping around a small pack of tissues, gum, lipstick, and pocket mirror than go to a meeting with lips looking like they belong on Casper the Friendly Ghost, bad breath, and snot sliding out of my nose.