“Back In Style”
By Heidi Julavits

This past year has been, for me, a period of intense personal searching. I asked myself the hard questions. What Kind of Person Am I? How Do I Want Others to Perceive Me? And Will My Computer Fit Inside? For months, I pitilessly self-scrutinized as I scoured the earth for the perfect handbag.
And then I found it. A faux-reptile, space-age grommetted Marni tote, “a work of art” as the saleswoman said. Righto, but let’s see what it holds, I thought as I emptied the contents of my current Sad Sack (laptop, books, pens, wallet, diapers, wipes, emergency baggie of bread sticks) into the work of art. Everything fit, and the work of art, not only stunning but sturdy, seemed structurally up to the task. Then I tried to pry it over my shoulder for the crucial test drive. I struggled. I contorted. I removed my coat and my sweater. Finally I had to admit to myself: the bag’s straps were too short. Gamely, I held the bag in my hand rather than wedging it into the boney shoulder groove I’d perfected over the years. For an hour I walked around the store, bag in hand, trying to convince myself that this was indeed the perfect bag. But deep inside I knew otherwise. The Marni handbag triggered my toddler-chasing-computer-ogling forward shoulder slump, and the energy required to counteract this slump (in order to keep me upright) meant I’d be exhausted after walking half a block.
I cursed handbags—a sadistic, impractical invention—and then blamed the Marni bag in particular. It was the bag’s fault I couldn’t buy it. I blamed my kid. I blamed gravity. Then, reverting to quest mindset, I turned my scrutiny inward. Maybe the problem was me. Maybe I simply needed to correct my posture. Except, as I discovered when I tried it, “simply correcting my posture” was precisely as impossible as existing for my entire waking life in Mountain Pose. My mind was unable to counteract my spine’s naturally unnatural curvature toward the earth even when the perfect handbag was at stake. My body, in short, was imprisoned by itself. Continue reading The Vogue Article