Real Talk: Sometimes I Think About the Bags I Sold

I’ve been collecting bags for two whole decades—more than half my life. In that time, I’ve had plenty of wins, a few losses, and some bags that got away. The amount of personal growth I’ve experienced over those years is immeasurable. Through every stage of my life, trends have come and gone—and, of course, come back around. My personal style and aesthetic have evolved right alongside them.

My current collection consists of around 25 bags, each of which I track in a note on my phone, along with its year of production. At the bottom of that note, I keep a list of the bags I’ve owned and later sold, mostly for my own records.

I only started keeping that list recently, after trying to remember the name of a now-discontinued Louis Vuitton bag I had sold years ago. Looking back, I realized I had parted with a dozen bags over the last decade.

Three were Louis Vuitton—a brand that was once central to my collection and the one that truly sparked my handbag obsession. Another three were Chloé, purchased during my time interning and freelancing at the beginning of my career in luxury fashion. The remaining three were miscellaneous pieces I acquired over the past several years.

Sell the Bag, but Hold On to the Memories

As part of an ongoing effort to simplify my closet—and my life—I recently took stock of my current collection. I do this at least once a year, and sometimes twice, because now that I’m more comfortable selling bags, I want to make sure I’m not holding on to something simply because I’ve always had it.

Quality over quantity. Quality over quantity, I repeat to myself.

Some bags in my rotation get far more use than others, but I’ve worn every bag in my collection at least once or twice over the past several months. As I reviewed what I currently own, I felt at peace with my collection. But when I looked back at the bags I had let go, I felt a surprising sense of peace there, too.

I don’t actually miss any of the bags I’ve rehomed.

The occasional pang of regret I feel isn’t really regret. More often, it’s nostalgia. I find myself longing for moments in my life that have come and gone—for earlier versions of myself and the memories I still hold close.

There was the study-abroad trip during college, when I purchased the first bag I would eventually sell: my Louis Vuitton Verona PM. Then there was my red Saint Laurent Sac de Jour, which will always remind me of moving to New York and living in my first apartment in Midtown Manhattan—a place I both loved and loathed.

When I think about those bags, I’m not sad that I no longer own them. None of them truly fits my current lifestyle, needs, or personal style. What I miss when I feel nostalgic isn’t the bag itself. It’s the life I was living when I carried it.

The bags may be gone, but the memories remain.

Sell the bag—but hold on to the memories.