Ever since my teenage nieces came back from Mackinaw City, Michigan with discounted designer handbags in tow along with some delicious fudge, I have been green with envy. It was one thing to have a couple pounds of fudge, but to own a couple designer bags each was another beast all together.

At every family function, I couldn’t help but fondle their new bags. Gucci. Prada. Coach. Kate Spade. I think my nieces were starting to get worried I might run off with one of them, but the leather factor kept me honest. Being a vegetarian, I could hardly sport a handbag trimmed with cow.

I knew I should be happy with my micro-fiber Hobo bag, my constant friend and companion, but there was still designer handbag lust in my heart.

Finally, I was able to plan a trip up north myself. For months, I begged my nieces for the name of the store where they bought their bags, but the girls have the attention span of a gnat. It took some interference from their mom to get it for me.

After my four-hour drive up north, I went to the store before I even checked into my beach side hotel. The handbags were in the rear of the store. I giggled with delight as I made my way past the t-shirts and blouses to reach purse nirvana. There they were.

I dove straight in, my heart pounding. My fingers skipped along, dancing from one to another. They were all so pretty. I couldn’t make up my mind. Then it happened. Cold realization clapped its icy hand on my shoulder. All of them had one thing in common. They all featured leather in one form or another. It was a virtual animal skin parade.

A salesgirl found me devastated, a Kate Spade bag dangling from my hand.

I had to leave. I bought a pound of fudge and went to check into my hotel to console myself.

By the time I returned home after my vacation, I thought this deep purse lust might be over, but it wasn’t. I still felt the injustice of my teenage nieces having more designer handbags than me.

Then the other evening, one of them stopped by my house, a gift bag under her arm. I didn’t know it, but she had started working at a clothing consignment shop. She handed me the gift bag. With trembling hands, I pulled out the tissue paper to find a pink and red canvas Kate Spade bag just for me. Not an animal skin in sight! She had bought it for me because she knew how much I wanted one. It was gently used, but it was all mine!