If you know me at all, 'fashionable', 'stylish' or 'trendy' are probably some of the very last adjectives you would possibly use to describe me or any of my possessions. And yet, my wallet is actually pretty cute. C'est vrai!
While probably still not qualifying as fashionable, stylish or trendy, I think it's pretty great. I picked it up last year during a mad shopping spree at REI. I love the flower detail - which happens to be the company's symbol. I love that it's not leather - not because I object to leather but because the fabric repels water and stains and thus holds up quite well to the kind of wear and tear to which I subject it. I really love that when you open it up, it's lined in a contrasting and totally sweet color - green - and more of the flower detail!
Cute, right?
Well, cute or not, I have owned and used this wallet for about nine months and in that entire time it has spawned very little conversation. I don't take it personally - see statements above - but I find it interesting, and odd, that after all this time, I get two comments about it in the same 20 minute span on the same day.
To be fair, I should probably mention that the comments were not necessarily about the wallet. Or how cute the flower detail is. Or how bright and verdant the inside fabric lining is. No, one comment related to the general state of order of the wallet. And the other to the stamps.
I kid you not.
First up, the cashier at Walgreen's. Nice girl. English is not her first language. As I am paying for the various and weird items I inevitably pick up while in the Walgreen's (random and not complete list includes: birthday card for my mother, bobby pins, and toilet paper), the nice cashier nods at my wallet and says, "Clean." Not paying 100% attention to her as I am engaged with the credit card swiper machine, I respond with the eloquent and profound, "Huhn?" She nods again at my wallet and repeats, "Clean." Mystified, I try to understand if she means it appears to be absent of money. Swept clean, perhaps? With utter facility of the English language, I repeat, "Huhn?" She expands on her previous attempts to compliment me (I think) and, picking her words carefully, says, "Find your card." Or something similar. As I previously indicated, English is not her first language. It dawns on me she is impressed (again, I think) that my wallet is "clean" enough to easily retrieve my credit card to pay for my purchase. Feeling uncertain, I respond with, "Thank you?" Smiling, as I have gotten her point (I hope), she shoos me away from her register and begins ringing up the next customer.
Bemused but unwary, I move on to my next stop: Borders. Incredibly, as I am checking out, the man helping me, who was wearing an ear bud with which I can only imagine he was listening to the riveting chatter of his fellow store clerks (e.g., "Oh man, she's using the magazine, THAT SHE'S NOT PAYING FOR, as a coaster for her coffee!"), glances at my wallet and says, "How much does a book of stamps cost these days?" I am caught off guard as I am engaged, yet again, with the credit card swiper machine. This guy has a better command of the English language but apparently just woke up from a coma. Furiously doing math in my head, I respond, "Eight forty? Uh, no, eight eighty!" He says, "Oh, I thought they were 42 cents but I don't mail a lot of stuff." Not even knowing how to begin to respond, I grab my purchases and hustle out of the store.
Next time I go to the store, I am slipping my credit card in my back pocket and whipping it out, gunslinger like, to pay. No more opening up my wallet and leaving myself vulnerable to comments I can't possibly respond to with grace, dignity or a seeming resemblence to intelligent conversation.
Thank you for listening.
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