Well, it is my private territory, my secret power – my shelter! It becomes my "home" on a time of a need. Indeed, sometimes I feel like a turtle - taking my "home" to ever I go. No one will catch me without a pen, a Band-Aid or a tissue!! Well, I couldn't save the world with a gum wrapper like MacGyver do, but I am ready!! I am ready to any scenario, any rescue, any melted ice cream or signing a fat contract!

Sometimes I feel like a tertle that carries her essentials, her less-essentials and some crumbs from place to place (god forbid, where did the crumbs come from??). Any amateur archaeologist could tell who "lives" here and what did he do? My shoulders tell my love story out loud. They don't lie. The weight is a true burden for my body. My orthopedist advised me to change my habit and make my bag lighter. What do you say? Should I take a healthy advice and abandon my love to safety and certainty?

I remember my first bag I got from my grandparents in first grade. It was a red leather bag with big metal buckles; I believe I could hide my self behind it. My husband had it also. Probably all the kids at that time had this kind of bags. I wonder if the streets were filled with lots of bags walking with 2 small legs. I wish I kept this bag till today.

In junior high, I had a printed plastic shopping bag, which my uncles sent me from America. It had a beautiful pastel drawing at the front, something you couldn't see around, yet it still had two problems. The strips were very thin and it hurt my shoulders. Its shape didn't match the weight of books & notebooks I carried to school (no one will catch me not ready). Secondly, it couldn't be closed - as most shopping bags tend to be. Soon, I received a compliment from Adam, a friend in class. He lifted my bag up curiously, saying: "WOW!! Ilanit, what a cool bag you have!" Almost simultaneously, I found myself pushing him to release the "captive" out of his hands so no teenage secrets would be revealed!! I managed to so, but looked as gentle as a Viking warrior.

Years later I used my Mom's old bags. I had a horrible collection of colored bags, that again were hardly matching its purpose, but I could match each perfectly to the colors of clothes I wore each day (everyone has a dark period in life). Later I sewed a bag made out of old jeans, feeling very special and creative, as lots of girls did at that time.

At the first design course I took to improve my portfolio, I've shown my designs and the feedback was: "WOW, you like containers!" It was funny I couldn't see it before: I designed a case for painter brushes, a multifunction bag and a bag for a coat hanger.

Last week I visited my close family and my sweet niece - a 19 years old lady - was fixing her old backpack which knew better days. It had so many holes in it that it looked strange that she bother to fix it. She bought a special fabric to match the bag pattern and stood determinedly against the criticism given to her. You could tell it is very important to her. She was totally emotionally involved with this bag. She had her good love story going on.

I had more bags throughout the years. Each bag reflected my needs and passion. As different as they all were, I can see that all fulfilled the same needs: inside & outside: keeping my small world close to me, making sure that nothing will be missed; and present myself to the world, reflecting my mood and perception of who I am and what I want to show the world - the outside need.

So this love story has a nice development! Designing bags was there all the time, waiting for me to discover it. How did I miss this love for bags? What a blessed that I didn't discover my fortune in the "last paragraph", as The Alchemist did in Paulo Coelho's novel. I wonder what your good love story is.

Do you have any forgotten love story?


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