Years ago, I remember getting permission to go into my mother’s purse to get a piece of gum or hard candy.
Inside was a veritable treasure trove of items for a young girl to examine. Lipstick, a compact, eyeliner, a hairbrush, a calendar, a pen, an address book, an embroidered cloth handkerchief, keys, a nail file, and a wallet as fat as an overstuffed sub sandwich (we will get to that later).
Back east we called them pocketbooks, here they are called purses. What’s universal is that their contents are as unique as each person.
A few years ago, my wallet was stolen from my purse,