A fictionalized marital money comedy.
I bought a Chanel bag and told my husband it had cost two hundred dollars at a thrift shop. The bag was beautifully made. The explanation had several structural weaknesses.
At first, I enjoyed the private triumph of owning something lovely without discussing its price. Then I found myself rehearsing answers to questions nobody had asked. Where was the shop? Was there a receipt? Why did the box look so new?
I had intended to purchase a handbag, not take on a part-time role maintaining its fictional history.
The awkward part was that we had an agreement about larger purchases from shared money. I could dislike that agreement or ask to change it. Quietly inventing a bargain did neither.
My husband also had purchases I considered extravagant. This seemed relevant for approximately ten seconds, until I realized that introducing his hobbies would not make my receipt smaller.
I told him the actual amount. He was annoyed, particularly about the lie. We discussed what we could afford, what to do about this purchase, and how much each of us could spend independently without turning the kitchen into a finance committee.
It was not the glamorous part of owning the bag. It was, however, the first conversation in which I did not have to remember a made-up shop.
The bag remained attractive. It had not made me financially mysterious or romantically intriguing. It had simply cost more than I wanted to admit.
There are easier ways to add mystery to a marriage. Most do not require a revised account of retail history.
