Brand Bag Sale dot Com is open

be the first to find the news of any bag sales that I noticed on-line where you can buy designer brand handbags and purses at a considerable discount. I am looking for great deals online all the time so I thought I just as well can share it with other girls looking for brand bags on sale. The bags I like are Hermes, Chanel or Dior, LV Tribute Patchwork and others.

>>> Bags On Sale HOT OFFERS ♥

I will post other Fahsion News and Celebrity gosip if it is related to handbags. In my opinion too much of Carla Bruni can get anyoing even if she is gorgeous. Mens Fashion is another area I intend to cover if I have the time for it. Love LV. CY.

Bag Lady?

Because she is one. Since she was crawling she's been stuffing things in bags and hiding them all over the house. Five years later, she's still doing it.

If you lose something, ask her and she's got it stuffed somewhere in one of her plastic grocery bags. Cameras, tweezers, watches, washcloths, clothes, dildos, you name it, she's hiding it somewhere.

When she was two I was so worried... especially after my sister bought her a little plastic shopping cart, which she insisted on filling with bags of things like canned goods and newspapers and blankets. I'm the type of person who always tries to look at the brighter side so I'd tell everyone that she was going camping for a very long time, or that she was actually using the newspaper to hunt for sales and the blanket was there to keep her warm because well, you know how cold those pretend supermarkets get.

Despite the fact that it always made me uneasy, I thought she'd grow out of it. But she hasn't. Her pack-rattiness is still going strong. Luckily, I found a glimmer of hope that her future won't be filled with sheer, supermarket bags packed with what-nots and stuffed in mini shopping carts, because today, yes today I found six pairs of underwear and a crushed, moldy sandwich in a Neiman Marcus bag. Proof that she's stepping up and switching over to the big boys. Yep, now I can tell everyone with pride that she's trying to be like me. A hard core shopper.

Couldn't ask for more than that.

Bag Lady
By Neil Beynon

I confess there are days when I do not feel like writing. Days when the page flashes a white neon tundra at me and the cursor blinks accusingly at me. On these days I fear it - whatever it is - has gone for good and panic wraps its steely arms around my chest.

Bad form I know but still: it’s true.

As I sit here struggling to think of something to say, something new to grab your attention, my mind wanders, it pulls at the thread of memories past, picks them up, turns them around, looking for new ways to stitch them, new patterns that might entertain. One by one they are discarded like used tissue.

I type a sentence. Something to hook my attention. I let it sit there, its naked serifs flapping in the wind. This is going to be hard.

The memory when it comes is not picked up. It invades.

It begins with a smell. A faint whisper at the edge of my nostrils, an odour dancing on the slight swells and troughs of the air as it curls around you like a silent, invisible gas. It is the smell of dust undercut with bad perfume and urine, shot through with notes of faeces. It is the smell of old age. It is the smell of death barely postponed…

#

…It is the smell of the old woman pressing against me before I can even get to the paramedic. She is bleeding. Her forehead is a mess of grey skin, pink flesh and blood. The woman’s movement is so violent she gets blood all over my uniform. And dirt, her right hand leaves dark smudges all over my uniform; I won’t get them out, no matter how hard I wash.

“Don’t let them take it,” she exhales in my ear. Her breathe could strip enamel and it leaves me feeling giddy as the paramedic separates us, helping her to sit down. She is clutching something, a small bundle of rags, to her chest with her left arm. The paramedic makes the mistake of touching the bundle in trying to help her to rest easier and earns a swift cuff from her free arm.

It leaves a welt on his cheek, red and angry, as he stumbles backwards.

“Jesus,” he says.

“Looks like you’ve made a new friend Matt,” I reply.

Matt is a good paramedic and he doesn’t give me shit like a lot of them do. That he’s here is a good sign: calm under fire. I can feel the crowd watching me as I lead Matt to one side, the old lady with his partner.

#

I delete the line. It was a stupid hook: melodramatic and self-indulgent. The starkness of the page is hurting my eyes, a migraine loitering with intent and so I look out the window at the street.

There are kids playing. Harmless, shrieking and laughter but it jars against the inside of my skull, jacks my shoulders up. And I never used to be like this so…

#

“…so what happened?”

“Apparently, she’s been wandering round all day,” says Matt. “Then some kids turn up, start jeering at her, trying to take the bundle off her, throwing things at her and she goes down hard. She cracked her head on the curb by the looks of it.”

“Right,” I reply. I know the answer before I ask but I need to none the less. “And no one said anything to the kids?”

“No,” says Matt. “No they didn’t. And they’re long gone. As soon as it gets serious they all run.”

“OK,” I reply. “Is she ok to give a statement?”

“Probably not,” he said. “But give it a go.”

I turn to talk to the old woman then stop.

“Why is she talking to the bundle?” I ask Matt.

“She thinks it’s a baby,” he replies.

It does in fact look baby shaped. My eyebrow must have risen to full mast because Matt continues: “It’s not a baby, just some rotting vegetable she’s picked up somewhere along the line. She won’t let go of it.”

#

I select all the words I have just written and delete them. Hollow things unworthy of the save command. I look up vegetables on Wikipedia. I can’t find the one the old woman had. I do see a pumpkin. I hate pumpkins, even the smell of them is…

#

…is turgid and I do not wish to experience it close up again. That fetid stench is wafting from the woman, if she were in a cartoon green lines would be streaming off her. Still, a job is a job.

My throat is burning by the time I’m within a foot of her.

“Hello,” I say. “What’s your name?”

“Hello,” she replies.

“What’s your name?” I ask.

“Ann,” whispers Matt.

“Ann,” I repeat. “Ann, can you tell me what happened?”

“Trolls,” she says.

“Sorry?”

“Trolls,” she repeats. “Pigmy trolls attacked me, tried to take my baby. Please don’t let them take my baby.”

Her free hand grips my arm with surprising strength and attempts to bend my will to hers.

I step back, extricating myself with care. There were no trolls here, just children without the empathy to leave an old woman at home, depressing but hardly a newsflash.

This woman’s mind fractured a long time before she cracked her skull on the concrete and I don’t have time to piece it together. I look at the crowd. No one meets my eyes but that’s ok, I’m looking for something else.

#

Trolls…I could write about trolls. I wrote about them once but no one else much liked it. The thing about trolls is they are metaphorically limited. A trope that is hard to use outside a specific context.

I look at the news, hoping for inspiration. Instead I see the bag lady staring up at me from the local. I don’t remember it being that bright but…

#

The sun glints off the window of the ambulance. The glare makes me blink.

“Alright,” I say to Matt stepping back. “You can take her. I can’t get anything sensible out of her.”

“We’ve been trying,” he replies. “We can’t get her in the ambulance without taking the bundle off her and she goes mental every time we try.”

“Goes mental?”

“Ha ha. You know what I mean,” he said pointing at his face.

“Can’t you just let her keep it?”

“It’s a biohazard,” he replies.

“It’s a bloody vegetable,” I reply.

“I agree, still I can’t take it in the van,” he replies.

“Then just take it off her,” I say.

“Tried,” he says, pointing at his face and then his arm, a set of teeth mark lining his wrist.

“Oh for f***’s sake,” I reply.

It only takes two paces to return to her. I pull the bundle gently but firmly from her grasp without warning or asking. Subsequently I am out of range again before she registers what’s happened. The vegetable stares up at me from the rags. It looks like a deformed and rotting turnip, surface slick with something that looks like milk. It smells worse than she does.

Ann screams long and loud. Expletives rain down on me like a flash flood. Then the threats: she’ll kill me, she’ll die, she’ll…I’ve stopped listening. Instead, I drop the bundle in a nearby bin.

#

My arse is numb from sitting too long. Still no words. I stand and run my fingers through my hair, some of it comes away in my hands, a little bit every day, soon I’ll have to bite the bullet and shave it all off. Funny, I never thought I’d be bald. Then again I never thought I’d be a lot of things.

That shopkeeper, the one with the CCTV camera, had an awful comb over. He was about as much help…

#

…the shopkeeper sends me away with: “Sorry mate, it’s just a…what is it called...deterrent. No tape. Tape costs money.” There is an awkward beat where I decide that it isn’t worth an argument and turn on my heel.

The street is quiet when I come out. The crowd’s gaze turns on me once more, a hostile look, an accusing look full of unspoken words. I look around for Matt.

I find him in the back of the ambulance. His face is set as he presses down on the woman’s sternum, as if he’s trying to force her back into her body. I watch as his colleague swings shut the door. I’m still watching as the ambulance pulls off, lights flashing blue on blue.



#

The woman died.

It wasn’t her head. She’d had cancer for a long time. The doctors couldn’t understand how she’d been walking around given the pain she must have been in. She just shut down: no ones fault.

I close the laptop. I can beat my mind against the page as long as I want but it won’t let go of that bundle, and trapped behind it are the words.

But there you have it: Some days I just don’t feel like writing.

:: :: :: :: :: :: :: :: :: :: ::

Last year a great piece of the Broccolicity puzzle was removed but not forgotten.Our homie Hugh Hunter aka Hef was one of the flyest,sneaker-heads,shining star that god wanted back in his presence.Hef will always be missed by the entire BC family.Shouts out to his family were definitely keeping them in our prayers.........Know matter how much time goes by Hef you will never be forgetten......ESPECIALLY WHENEVER ANY OF US LOOK AT OUR COLLECTION OF THOSE ORANGE & TAN BOXES......

oooh oooh oooh ooooh
oooh oooh oooh ooooh oooh

Bag lady you gon hurt your back
draggin all them bags like that.
I guess nobody ever told you how
you must hold on to issue, issue issue

One day all them bags gon get in your way
one day all them bags gon get in your way
I said one day all them bags gon get in your way

So pack light, hooo hooo

Bag lady you gon miss your bus
you cant hurry up cause you got to much stuff
When they see you comin niggas take off runnin
from you,its true ,oh yes they dooo

One day he gon say you crowdin my space
One day he gon say you crowdin my space
I said one day he gon say you crowdin my space

So pack light yeah yea yea yea yea yeah

Girl I know
Sometimes its hard and we cant let go
Ooh if someone hurts you o so bad inside
and you cant deny it you cant slip by it

Sooooooo if you still breathin
oooo oooo ooooooo
ooooo ooooo oooooooooo

So where my garbage bag lady
let it go let it go let it go let it go
And what about the grocery bag lady
I bet ya love could make it better
Im talkin to my Gucci bag ladies
let it go let it go let it go let it go
And what about my paper sack ladies
I bet ya love could make it better
What about my nickel bag ladies
let it go let it go let it go let it go
Light pack when ya pack ya bags ladies
Bet ya love could make it better

And what about my booty bag ladies
let it go let it go let it go let it go
And what about the cheap sack a babies
Bet ya love could make it better
What about the plastic bag ladies
Let it go let it go let it go let it go
And my baby baggin mommas
lets go let it go lets go let it go

All my bookbag ladies
let it go let it go let it go let it go
If ya livin like a bag lady
let it go let it go let it go let it go

@cinespace

wild thursdays

6356 hollywood blvd, hollywood, ca 90028

Say broccoli city @ the door get it in half off, wear your bc tee and its free....simple.....come out have a good time.

The brand Chapel of Dawn has created a special canvas tote bag for their friends, Sarah from Colette and the artist Eric Elms. The bag will be available only at Colette on May 5th which is also the date for the inception of the Eric Elm's art show "Do you think about me as much as I think about you". Eric's show will take place also at Colette until the 31st of May.

Source: TK

This is tough!!!!

Lindy is fun and casual and not on every fashionista's radar, which is a plus for me. I am totally greedy and don't want anyone else to have my bags! Now that birkins are on the arm of every Bag SNOB in every town, I am moving on to the Lindy! I love that there is a shoulder strap option, many designers have convertible bags but Hermes is the only one to get it perfectly right. When not in use, the strap hangs out of the way in the back but is easily slipped on the shoulder within seconds!

[gallery]

TINA: THE BAG SNOB

Soft and sturdy, these bags are utterly adorable and so lightweight! After carrying around my 4-pound crocodile bags (empty), grabbing a softy Tod's bag is so liberating! The softy bags and ballet flats, are so casual and fun, especially in the season's signature blue.

Thanks Tina... SHOE AND BAG SNOB!!

these are a couple of shots of the true school/bc event with 9th wonder from Vivians's P.O.V

enjoy.....

I saw the taupey-grey patent frame at Fred Segal yesterday and was so mesmerized by how different it is--and bursting with style and character! I love the red frame contrast; it sets off the bag perfectly! This also comes in a turquoise with red frame, but that color combination is almost too cartoonish and totally unusable. With this bag, you can wear the most boring plain thing and still be caught turning heads left and right. The straps are long enough to fit comfortably under the arm. This bag has a gorgeous silver metallic lining. It is always delightful to find the inside of the bag as nice as the outside, but with a leather lining, you pay for it, with your muscle and moola. This bag is a bit pricey for what it is at $1995, but is selling like crazy. Girls who suffer for fashion will find this one is totally worth it!! Call Fred Segal Santa Monica, 310-394-9814--there are only a couple left.

Thanks Tina.... SHOE AND BAG SNOB

CLICK HERE:   Spend $1000 or more on handbags;and get a $400 gift card.

 Which means you get $400 to spend on a pair of shoes :) Use code HANDBAGS

Ladies, you can thank me later for this one.... BC ALL DAY

--Marco

Erica Abi Wright, also known as Erikah Badu, was born in Dallas in February 1971. She's an R&B and hip-hop singer and writer. She is often compared to Billie Holiday for her "musical sensibilities", Wikipedia dixit.

I like her. I would normally think this is too commercial, but there is something in her neo soul stream, this so-called alternative or underground hip-hop, that resounds. Her father had left the home when she was growing up, but when she chose the artistic name Badu, he wrote her: "Badu in Arabic means truth and light, good choice kid".

Not sure if this video reminds me of Carmen Miranda, Billie Holiday or Chaka Kahn meets Grace Jones. I like Erykah Badu anyway, I discovered it last week.

Images of the unforgettable Carmen Miranda; Grace Jones in the cover of Nighclubbing album courtesy of this Canadian site; Chaka Khan way back when. In the video the song Bag Lady. Cool colours and instrumentation.

Christian Dior was known for lady like couture in its heyday, he cinched in waists and put women in voluminous skirts and dainty hand held bags. The bag is soft and slouchy; it hangs well when full, and is not as rounded as it appears in the photo above. The polished bracelet handles had looked uncomfortable to me, but were surprisingly easy to slip my arm through or to carry by hand. And, of course the little detachable makeup bag/clutch is an extra bonus that is always appreciated.

Dior Babe bag $2,290 at eLuxury  .... CLD WOULD LUV this lolol

If you have plenty of baby showers to attend this spring/summer...what better gift than these adorable Dior baby shoes. Made of the finest soft leather, they are reminiscent of ballet slippers, pale pink with a simple front tie closure. The signature Dior gold "D" sits at the center of the bow and cutout detail in the leather accentuates the toe and heel. Available on eluxury.com for $175

BC luvs the kids... but $175 WOW

Bag Lady by Erykah Badu

Soooo cooooool

Honey by Erykah Badu

Vicky also runs the Handbag Designer/Makers Blog that focuses on designers from the UK. If you're looking for an individual bag that has been made in the UK then this is a great place to start. If you're a designer based in the UK drop her a line, I'm sure she'd love to hear from you!

Vicky has kindly featured Little Black Duck on her blog entry for today - thank you Vicky!

I've used this flimsy nylon bag almost every day for the past several months to tote around my laptop and assorted notebooks, papers and junk. I've essentially worn the bag out, and it's time to put it to rest.

It came with a pouch that was designed to "store" the bag when not in use. I used the pouch for storing "wallet stuff", like money, metropass, credit cards, change, receipts, etc. The pouch USED to be attached to bag with a nylon string, but it broke. The bag is splitting open at the bottom, and the pouch is shredding. I've surely lost stuff through the openings, and even had strangers come up to me and tell me there's a hole in my bag. "Thank you, I know, but thanks".

Could I repair the holes stitch up the shreds? Perhaps. That would be the frugal, environmentally friendly thing to do. I've had stuff repaired in the past to prolong its life. It would look like a patch job though. And quite frankly, I have enough other bags that I should just let this one go. I'm not proud to be part of this "throw away" mentality, but it just doesn't make sense for me to hang onto this one. Yes, I've only had it for a few months, but it's had a useful life. Is it a cheap bag? No doubt, if it's already falling apart. But in the bag's defense, I have put it through a lot...and I admit I'm also not terribly gentle with my stuff. If I learn to take better care of my things, they'll last longer, and I won't need to replace things as often.

The other point I want to make about getting rid of this item is that it's symbolic. I feel like a bag lady in the making, and I need to fight this off. As long as I can remember, I've carried so much stuff around with me, in multiple bags, to and from here and there. My father often comments on my bags. "Do you really need that bag?", "Why are you carrying that big bag?", "What do you have in there?". Most of the time, the contents have been unnecessary for whatever I'm doing that day, or that weekend, or that week. It's a security thing, I'm sure of it. Maybe a punishment thing? Making myself drag stuff around needlessly. An modern day urban Atlas, with the weight of my world on my shoulders or something.

I LOVE the feeling of walking out the door with nothing in my hands. No bag, no burden. I'm going to try to do this more often. Men kind of have this down, don't they? I often see them "hands free" and carefree. Women on the other hand, are often juggling purses and lunch bags and diaper bags and gym totes and all sorts of other portable containers. It's exhausting just watching other people carry stuff around.

I'm exhausted just thinking about all my bags. Well, today, I'm down one bag...plus pouch. Bye bye baggie! Baby steps, right?

I remember when The Real World used to deal with serious social issues. The first season touched upon a variety of "hot button" topics, such as prejudice, politics, religion and sexuality. In one memorable episode, Julie makes a connection with a young woman living in a "Reagan-Ville" filled with homeless people. Julie later stays the night in this makeshift community. The situation affects Julie deeply and the rest of the loft mates are impressed with Julie's openness to the situation. It is easy to mock this show with a contrived plot line that connects a southern belle with an urban transient. But I remember being struck by this ingenue and her willingness to leave her comfort zone and enter this scary subculture. I was reminded of this program when I discovered this relic. With the advent of summer, I have noticed a plethora of unfortunates roaming the streets of NYC. Although I sympathize with their plight, they also frighten me. I guess I have a "There but by the grace of God goes me" moment whenever I encounter these gypsy creatures. I have had many housing emergencies in this city that could have been a recipe for a dwelling disaster. Thankfully, I have always landed on my feet. Or in a furnished room. Still, I do feel a shiver of panic whenever I cross paths with the homeless. I remember my uncle telling me that was his greatest fear when he was a kid. Perhaps, that is what lead him to start a career as a civil servant with job security! It goes beyond being stripped of your shelter, your pride takes a tumble as you become marginalized in society. Not to mention the difficulty in maintaining personal hygiene! In any case, the next video is one of my favorite tracks about the poor person in a state of flux. If you can look past the 80's cheese, you will discover a strong melody and a profound message. EBN OZN even manage to inject a little levity into the sad situation with a star turn by legendary comedienne Imogene Coco. This ancient act tried to bridge the gap between European art rock and old school hip hip which resulted in a multi-racial melting pot sound. Only in New York, kids!