It was an odd place to have a conversation about purses. We - writers, designers, purchasers and our production manager - were about to start our weekly meeting to discuss the creative projects currently in house.

What sparked the discussion was the news that one of our clients wanted to reorder the frosted vinyl tote bag with opaque white polka-dots we had designed and produced a year ago. Kay, our purchaser, began to reminisce how she had to go on a wild goose chase “to China” to get the product quality and price the client wanted.

Somehow the conversation veered to whether we (or in the case of the males in the room, the women they knew) matched their purses to their shoes. Eileen, our newest designer, admitted to having 100 pairs of shoes and as many handbags to match. Kay, just months away from retirement, piped in how she’d just run out and bought six new pairs of shoes and six coordinated purses. “I’m going to be on a fixed income in a few months…and I want to go out in style!”

Bob, our production manager, owned up to one pair of dress shoes, one “everyday” pair and various sneakers (for painting, for mowing the grass, etc.) - but no purses.

I related how I’d always worn bags and shoes that matched when I was growing up. This novelty soon became a nuisance. Now, I tell them, I’d finally rebelled because I like a bag that stays put. One that I doesn’t change with every outfit like a chameleon. One where all the junk I carry settles into familiar nooks ready to be ferreted out by my blind, rummaging hand. To me, purses should be somewhere between a fashion statement and something utilitarian. A pocketbook needs to feel like home.