Gucci and me

Gucci and me?

Yes I know. Looking at me, you would never dream that I would have a classy Gucci original. In fact, I’m well aware that I really don’t seem like the type that wouldn’t even know who the designer is, Gucci (does he have a first name?). So what does world famous French fashion trendsetter Gucci have to do with me? Read on and learn about the ridiculous side of life and my rather innocent and shameful part of it.

It was providence that put me in the path of the elite and fashionable folks in that posh area of ​​London, England, where I had come for a cousin’s wedding, a good twenty-five years ago. As rain fell incessantly from cloudy gray skies over what appeared to be a bleak and gloomy world, my wife and I, American peasants, marveled at the allure of the old society of English Europe. Tourist attractions we had never dreamed of visiting suddenly found themselves within our immediate panoramic view. The transparency of our unsophisticated travel experience must have stood out for all to see as we gasp aloud in sheer wonder and awe at the wrong On the other hand, everyone seemed to be driving their cars, trucks and motorcycles, before the grandeur of Big Ben’s great clock, the imposing Buckingham Palace and those graceful artificially stiff-looking royal guards with the tall shaggy hats. We visited some of the most famous museums, gawked at some of the most unusually colorful punk-clad locals, and literally had a blast while reveling in the wonderful temporary role of being drunk and dined without caring, as well as calling for phone across the ocean. to see how spoiled our children were at their grandparents’ house that week in June.

The whole experience was beyond any vision we could have imagined, but it was rejuvenating. As we said goodbye and sincerely thanked our generous hosts, I asked if perhaps there could be something we could bring to our family members in the United States. After a brief moment of deliberation, it seemed that indeed there was.

“Would you mind very much,” began my host in his quaint and endearing English accent, “if we ask you to bring my sister a wallet in Deal, NJ? It’s a Gucci original, not too new, but nonetheless ., I know she would appreciate it. And why should it be scrapped? “

I would care What a question! Honestly, I was happy to return the favor of unique hospitality in a small measure!

We packed the ‘Gucci thing’ inside our belongings and headed to the airport. With England getting smaller and smaller, and finally disappearing altogether as the plane gained momentum upward and forward, we mentally braced ourselves for the long flight home and our role reversal.

The reunion we were a part of in Newark was a fitting end to our beautiful vacation. Although we had indeed left London, England, home to world culture, art, fashion and gales of raindrops, the unmistakable shower of love that we received with our welcome home reception made us that much happier to be with. back with our beloved family member. lawn and immediate family.

We shifted into our normal gears – me, as the daily parent and breadwinner, and my wife as the familiar figure of ‘mom’ – and life seemed to continue as we had left it with only photographs to keep the memories vivid.

Then one bright Sunday morning, my wife reminded me of Gucci’s wallet.

“Max,” she said worried, “I just remembered about the wallet. Have you seen it anywhere?”

“Gucci’s wallet?” I asked in a low voice. “Don’t tell me you don’t know where it is! Didn’t you pack it in the big blue suitcase?”

“I thought you kept it in your carry-on,” my wife replied quickly. “How horrible if it gets lost!” She continued. “What a way to show our gratitude for all that they did for us!”

We eagerly went through every piece of luggage and belongings that we had brought with us on the trip. Feverishly and determinedly, we went through the clothing and paraphernalia, having a good time searching. Unfortunately, it seemed that Gucci’s wallet was nowhere to be found! Sadly we concluded that we had lost it on the way to the airport or it was … stolen. We feel very bad. Too bad we didn’t buy travel insurance! After all that our English hosts had done for us, how could we recognize what had happened?

I sat cautiously on the edge of the sofa while I thought. Finally, the obvious answer came to my mind.

“And what’s so terrible about bringing a new Gucci wallet to our host’s sister instead of the old, used one?” I asked. The solution he had thought of was brilliant in its simplicity!

My wife looked at me in amazement. “W-where does one go to buy a Gucci wallet?” she asked. “I mean, aren’t they exclusive items from Gucci Originals? You might have to buy them at one-of-a-kind specialty stores. And how much do you think they cost anyway?”

Although both my wife and I had been brought up in a no-nonsense kind of simple home where designer clothing and merchandise were things that, for all intents and purposes, did not exist, we understood that the price tags on these types of Items were at the higher end of the spectrum for general merchandise payments.

“I’m sure one of the department stores in the mall near us sells Gucci handbags,” I said. “And as for the price,” I continued in a deliberate voice, “How much could a small wallet cost already?”

With that said, we put the kids in our car for a “trip” to the Ocean County Mall.

Once we reached our destination, my wife took our company to the women’s accessories department. In fact, his hunch had been correct. There, in the locked box, was a small assortment of Gucci purses and purses. In my mind, their beauty was debatable and I wondered what their main attraction was, but quickly dismissed the rumors thoughts as the result of my “lack of education” in the ways of fashion.

“We’d like to see the Gucci handbags,” my wife told the woman behind the counter.

The saleswoman jingled her key ring as she opened the glass case and searched inside for the two prominent wallets. “These are the two styles that we carry,” he said.

“Hmm,” my wife paused. “How many?” she asked.

“This here is five fifty,” the saleswoman began. “And this one has seven,” he said.

I looked at my wife. She looked at me.

“Listen,” I told my wife. “The prices are not bad at all. We are going to splurge. We will buy them both. One for the sister of our hosts and one for you.”

My wife nodded. Generally used to living on a fixed budget, we were both somewhat relieved by the affordability of the famous Gucci handbags.

“Ahem,” my wife cleared her throat as she started off in total innocence. “Did you say this one on the right costs five dollars and fifty cents and the one there seven dollars?”

The woman paused for an awkward and long moment as she seemed to digest what had been asked of her. Then, in the coldest and most hostile saleswoman’s voice, she corrected the blatant inexcusable mistake.

“No ma’am, the cost of this one is FIVE HUNDRED FIFTY DOLLARS and that’s SEVEN HUNDRED DOLLARS!”

“Oh I see, I’m so sorry,” my wife said very quietly as the pink color of embarrassment crept up her cheeks. “We – uh – I think we’ll think about it. Thank you.”

Without another word, the saleswoman picked up the wallets, replaced them in the display case, clicked her key ring with a flourish, and slammed the glass door shut.

As we made our hasty getaway, we laughed together at our simple ignorance and unsophisticated expectations. How blessed were we naive! $ 550 and $ 700 for handbags adorned with a strange man’s name, indeed!

As ridiculous as we knew the prices were, we still had a business to take care of.

I telephoned our hosts in England and embarrassedly explained the situation to them. True to their style, they got rid of everything, saying that the lost wallet was too old to be of any real value and that we should forget about the whole incident.

Gucci and me? Well, I can’t exactly say that even though it’s been quite a while since the unfortunate loss of Gucci’s wallet, I’ve completely forgotten about everything. One thing is for sure, I know that Gucci handbags are not on my personal shopping list because there have to be better things to do with my money. Still, the incident brings us laughter as we recall our ‘wonderful worldlessness’ and the absurd and ridiculous ways of the ‘refined and sophisticated’ world.