I love designer bags. I'm sorry. I'm female. Thanks to the generosity (and annual bonus) of Dear Hubby, I've been able to indulge in my little passion every now and then.
But each time I look at designer bags, I can't help but think of an incident at work many years ago. I worked for a company that sold, among many products, a humble hair cream targeted at the working class man. Let's call this product Hair Goo.
The team that worked on Hair Goo hired this designer, a guy who was all stylo-mylo and carried an LV messenger bag as his everyday work bag. He also drove one of those Merc convertible sports cars and lived in a rather nice condo right smack in the middle of Kuala Lumpur city centre. He was all style and haute couture and I'm sure it must have pained him to be designing posters for Hair Goo whose customers were primarily Ah Peks and Mamats.
One day, the prototype for the new Hair Goo packaging went missing. The Hair Goo team hunted frantically for it. By chance, Mr Designer Guy had just been in the Hair Goo team's office, discussing some promotional campaign with them.
After an exhaustive search and still NO prototype, the desperate Hair Goo manager wailed at Mr Designer Guy, "YOU must have taken it by mistake!"
"I did NOT."
"You must have! You were the last person in my office. It must be in your bag! Check and see lah!"
This deeply offended Mr Designer Guy, not so much the implication that he stole it (because he knew the team too well to know that they were just being desperate and not accusing him) but that he actually WANTED a Hair Goo product.
He snatched his LV messenger bag off the table, stood up in a huff and snorted in disgust. "You think I let your *Hair Goo* sit in my *LV* bag ah!"
And with that parting shot, he stalked out of the office.
Since then, every time I see an LV messenger bag, I will think of Ah Peks and Mamats with Hair Goo creamed-up hair.