One of the things I miss most about Latin America is the institution of the “purse chair”, a specially designated chair at restaurants just for customers’ purses.
In Mexico, so it was explained to me, leaving a purse on the floor meant that all of one’s money would leak out onto the floor, leaving one penniless. Perhaps that is just a bad translation and the person explaining the social custom meant that one’s money would walk away, snatched up by a pair of sticky fingers. Given the preponderance of pickpockets, this is an apt metaphor and possible interpretation.
In Brazil, one is sometimes offered a mini purse table, which is even better. Sometimes the purses are tied to the chair with a table cloth, a purse “bib”, so to speak. If there is no chair available, one is brought over, even if it gets in the way of the servers and the other customers. Make no mistake: a Brazilian woman would no sooner put her purse on the floor than go outside unaccessorized.
Alas, this is not the situation in the PRC. This, MoodRingMama, is a phantom pain. Like a missing limb, I keep looking for a safe, clean place to stash my purse but it’s not there. To assuage the pain of the loss, I have a throne in my bedroom, featured above*, but only for a short while. On Thursday the rest of my shipment is due to arrive and this gilded monstrosity will be removed along with the rest of the rental furniture, destined to grace the empty palace of yet another expat princess. I am not going to miss it.
*I have heard that my personal photos are too large and so removed many of yesterday’s. Please write in if this continues and I will have to go back to outsourcing photos.