Is there such a thing? Or is it a construct of our imagination?

After losing several items of value over a period of time my husband recently decided to invest in a bag that he could carry to work everyday and around the city on weekends. Not a laptop bag, but something smaller, lighter and reasonably priced that could hold everything which until now was clutched in hands or stuffed in pockets and had been subsequently dropped or left behind in cabs, at meetings, cafes and bookstores.

You know, like pens, notebooks, phone, sunglasses, e-reader and the occasional umbrella.

The search began, casually at first but actively after the loss of a fairly new kindle either at the tea house across our apartment or inside the stationary shop next door. There’s no way of knowing so we give them both the stink eye.

The following weekends were spent walking in and out of stores sometimes hopeful but mostly despondent. The perfect bag seemed elusive. If the fabric was agreeable, the colours were dull; if the number of pockets were ample, the space inside the main compartment wasn’t; if the design was fabulous, the size didn’t work, if the size was decent, the price was outrageous.

One day while rummaging the house for something I don’t recall anymore, out came an old leather satchel we had owned for years. It wasn’t the perfect bag my husband was looking for. But with time and use, it is becoming one, as most things do when we agree to calibrate our criteria for perfection.

The above drawing is of him checking out some options at the store and not looking very convinced.