Monday, August 29, 2011

Grab the Cats and the Kelly and Go!

Well, by the time she reached us, the full-blown fury of Hurricane Irene turned out to be just a two-year old throwing a temper tantrum, thank Heaven; nevertheless, I always like to be prepared, and I was. By that I mean I had prepared a survival kit containing everything a woman needs to look her best while braving a disaster of the natural or unnatural variety.


My survival kit included Q-tips, cotton balls, safety pins, lingerie, tinted moisturizer, concealer, lip gloss and Deva Curl Mist-er Right revitalizing spray in case, among other indignities, I had to face a case of the frizzies.

My husband left the office early and was just getting home as I assembled survival kit, cat carriers and a large black plastic bag in the foyer waiting for the signal to Grab-n-Go. He looked at the plastic bag and said, “Is that what I think it is?”

Indeed it was. That plastic trash bag contained precious cargo. Inside, nestled in its brown velvet, drawstring pouch in its original orange box was my black pebbled leather 28 cm. Kelly bag with brushed silver hardware.

Moments of crisis often force you to make cold, clear-eyed choices, and I had made mine. I would leave behind my entire collection of Hermès jewelry, accessories and scarves, but, come hell or high water, the Kelly was coming with me.

My mind travelled back more than 25 years to a blustery night in December. A blizzard had knocked out the power lines and I was wearing two heavy sweaters to keep warm, wrapping Christmas presents by candlelight and singing “Jingle Bells” softly to myself when the phone rang. My husband was calling from the office. There were no cell phones in those days.

“I’m leaving the office now. Can you be ready in 10 minutes? We have to get up to King of Prussia a.s.a.p.” King of Prussia was at least an hour and a half away from our house on a clear night with no traffic.

“Are you crazy? It’s Friday night before Christmas. The traffic will be horrendous!”

“Don’t worry, nobody’s crazy enough to be on the road in this blizzard.”

“So, why are we risking life and limb to get to King of Prussia?”

“Well, Gisèle called and your new Kelly bag is in.”

“What??? My Kelly Bag? Wait…wait…who’s Gisèle?”

“I’ll explain everything in the car on the way up.”

As we drove through the snow storm, he told me the whole story.


Several years earlier while in Paris we had stopped at Hermès on the rue du Faubourg Saint-Honoré for some of my favorite perfume, “Rouge.”

In the display case way above my head and far, far out of reach in every way was a gorgeous Kelly bag in royal blue crocodile.

Whatever I said about it, and I honestly do not remember what it was, it set my husband on a three-year odyssey through the idiosyncratic labyrinth of the world’s most luxurious of all Houses of luxury handbags, Hermès.

Along the way, he would endure shocks, insults and obstacles sufficient to dampen the fervor of most men, but my husband is not most men. He was a man on a mission.

The first thing he did upon our return stateside was to call Hermès in Manhattan. When he asked the officious Frenchman on the other end of the line the price of a Kelly bag, he received his first shock. Upon recovering from the shock of the price, he pulled himself together and said, “Well, I’d like to order a Kelly bag for my wife.” The stunned salesman replied, “Non, non, non, non, non, Monsieur, you do not ‘order’ a Kelly bag, you ‘await’ a Kelly bag. They are made, they are shipped, you wait. Et voilà!”

For an entire year my husband repeatedly called New York, Paris and Los Angeles, always with the same result. They would not even deign to put his name on the waiting list.

Then one day, while on business in King of Prussia, Pennsylvania, he found a tiny Hermès boutique in the shopping mall. He thought he’d give it another go.

A saleswoman named Gisèle was behind the counter that day, and he told her the whole sad story. She took pity on him.

“How tall is your wife, Monsieur?” she asked. He told her. “And how much does she weigh?” she asked. He told her.

“Eh bien,” she said, “the 28 cm Kelly will be a perfect fit for her. We don’t receive many in that size, but I will put your name on the list et on verra.”

Two years later, on the Friday before Christmas, Gisèle called my husband at the office. Because of the blizzard she was unable to reach the three names ahead of ours on the list. So, if we could make it to the store before closing, the Kelly bag was ours.







I don’t know what it is about my Kelly bag that makes me love it so – maybe it’s the story of how I got it – maybe it’s that it’s so classic and goes with everything – maybe it’s that it’s now worth more than twice what we paid for it.

Or maybe it’s just that I own a piece of French culture that is timeless – its roots firmly in the past, giving vitality to the present and life to the future. That is the essence of the house of Hermès.

Whatever it is, I knew for certain that I wasn’t going to let that Bitch Irene come anywhere near my Kelly.

9 comments:

  1. I adore this post, M-T! What a great story. Better than my Hurricane Hairdo - your kitties and Kelly bag, precious cargo indeed. And don't forget hubby - he is most precious of all XO

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  2. I love your Hurricane Hairdo story.

    I agree that hubby is most precious cargo of all. Only a man in love would put himself through all that to please the woman he loves.

    I think I'll keep him. Besides, the kitties love him, too....probably because he totally spoils them just like he totally spoils me.

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  3. Marie-Therese, what a fabulous story! Is that your one in the picture? Beigey-tan leather, gold hardware and accessorised with grey marle. Bestill my beating heart. This is my favourite colour combo!

    Fiona
    http://howtobechic.blogspot.com

    ReplyDelete
  4. So glad you liked my little story, Fiona. It's all true, except for the picture. Unfortunately, I am the world's worst photog. I don't even own a camera. Can you believe it? So, I just grabbed a photo of a Kelly that appealed to me. Isn't it just tooo gorgeous??

    Mine is black pebbled leather w/brushed silver hardware. I love it, too. If I ever make friends w/a digital camera, I'll take a snap and post it.

    Thanks for dropping by.

    ReplyDelete
  5. Had to pop over and read the story. Wow, what an odyssey! Your husband deserves a medal for persevering! The most expensive bag I've ever owned is a Coach, haha. Would love to just touch a Kelly bag!! xo Deborah

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    Replies
    1. He really is a bull dog when he wants something, isn't he? I guess that's why I married him. He pursued me in the same way. Got to admire that.

      Pop over for a visit to the east coast and you can have the use of my Kelly any time you want.

      Merry Christmas, dear Deborah.

      Cheers, M-T

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  6. Dearest Marie-Thérèse,
    That is a fabulous story and glad that I came here first before commenting on your newest post.
    Guess I would grab all my Chanel bags and boots as I do not have any Hermès treasures.
    But yes, I've seen their value rise more positively than anything else. I've always kept them in their pouches and I use boot spanners for my boots. Aiming to enjoy them for the rest of my life.
    Sending you hugs,
    Mariette

    ReplyDelete
    Replies
    1. Dearest Mariette,

      Sadly, I do not own any Chanel, except perfume, but I will definitely cherish all my Hermès accessories, jewelry, scarves, perfume and, of course, my Kelly bag forever.

      Cheers, M-T

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    2. Well Marie-Thérèse I only have one beautiful Hermès scarf and I do have the original Hermès scarf folding booklet... That too has soared in value! And oh, I do have two Hermès scarf clips. Why did I not think about them earlier?! Are we getting old... and I'm afraid, not increasing as much in value as a Kelly bag!
      Happy weekend!
      Mariette

      Delete

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