Okay, let’s talk about that Prada straw tote. You know the one. Seemed like it was everywhere for a hot minute.
I saw it pop up, looked kinda nice, summery. Thought, yeah, that’d be good for the beach trip I was planning. Then I saw the price tag. Oof. Seriously?
It got me thinking, you know? Like, really thinking. It’s woven straw. Raffia, whatever they call it. We used to make stuff like that in summer camp. Suddenly slap a Prada triangle on it, and boom, it costs a fortune. Wild.
So, I went down this rabbit hole. Started looking for something similar, something more… sensible? Spent hours scrolling online. Found a few okay-ish ones, but they didn’t have that thing. You know? That little logo that whispers ‘I made it’ or something silly like that.
My Big Hunt and The Reality Check
I almost caved, not gonna lie. Had it in my online cart. My finger hovered over the ‘buy’ button. This was around the time things were a bit tight, trying to save for a deposit on a new place. Every penny counted.
And then I remembered helping my grandma clear out her attic last spring. Found this old straw bag she used to take to the market back in the day. It was sturdy, woven properly, probably cost next to nothing back then. Held onto it, didn’t think much of it.
So, instead of clicking ‘buy’ on the Prada, I went and dug out Grandma’s old bag. Cleaned it up a bit. Took it on that beach trip.
- It held my towel.
- It held my sunscreen.
- It held my book.
- And you know what? Nobody cared it wasn’t Prada.
Felt kinda freeing, actually. Didn’t have to worry about getting sand in it or saltwater splashes ruining some expensive designer thing. It was just a bag, doing its job.
Made me realize something. All that fuss over a label. Sometimes the simple, real things are just better. That Prada tote? Still think it looks nice on other people. But me? I’m good with Grandma’s market bag. Got more stories in it anyway.
