A story about a shoulder bag

I bought this white shoulder bag about 4 years ago. For a while, I was wandering around with my camera bag, until one day I had decided it’s too ugly, and started looking for a new and real bag to carry my enormous amount of stuff on daily basis. This white bag was smiling at me from the upper racks of Zara. It was a love from first sight (which doesn’t happen to me a lot when it comes to fashion). Since that day, and until a few days ago, we (me and my bag) were inseparable.

I am not the kind of person who buys lots of clothes. But the ones which I do buy, stay with me for a very long time. They sometimes lose their color, other times they get ripped, and always they become worn out. About a year ago I started to realize that my bag is getting old, and should have some rest. I was looking for a substitute ever since, without gaining any success.

This week I moved to Frankfurt for 5 months. When packing only my necessary objects, I understood that this is the moment to let go. The moment I understand this is the end of a joint way is always sad: when it comes to love, and when it come to clothing.

So, I let go. I left my shoulder bag on the street, near the garbage can. Later that day, when I passed by, I noticed it’s not there anymore. I was glad. Now, when in Frankfurt, it’s time to look for another all-time shoulder bag. Any suggestions?