Nora Ephron devoted an entire chapter in her book to her disdain for purses, with a fitting title – “I Hate My Purse.” She talks about her purse being a direct representation of her perpetual disorganization. “This is for those of you who understand, in short, that your purse is, in some absolutely horrible way, you. Or, as Louis XIV might have put it but didn’t because he was much too smart to have a purse, Le sac, c’est moi.”

Take a glance at your purse, then, when you’ve mustered up enough courage, take a look inside. Scared? Me too. The only way I can defend the 20 pounds I’m carrying inside my purse is that I have an innate need for preparedness. My biggest fear is that I will be stranded somewhere and not have … my chapstick? Expired coupons? A broken eyelash curler?

My purse has five outside zipper compartments, which might seem excessive, but you would think these multiple compartments easily handle the contents – instead each compartment is a black abyss. A zebra print wallet that won’t shut (unfortunately this isn’t because it’s overflowing with cash), a metal card case, pink camera, eyeglass case (minus the eyeglasses), travel toothbrush and toothpaste, a watch, a black cuff bracelet, a giant safety pin (you have no idea how many times this little guy has saved me), 4 band aids in various sizes (one with an unidentifiable phone number scribbled on it), hand lotion, hand sanitizer, loose vitamins, a ripped, dog-eared and smudged checkbook, an expired South Beach diet bar (in case I’m stuck in the wilderness for days and left with the choice between chewing my own limbs or eating this stale peanut butter bar…), an empty case of mints, crumpled receipts from shopping sprees I can’t bear to acknowledge, pepper spray, allergy medication, two packs of gum that have exploded out of their constraints and many out of their wrappers, The Little Webster Dictionary, a make-up bag, a brush, and my Blackberry (but the only way I can find it is if it’s ringing).

It’s because of all these essential survival items that I have become a huge fan of the large tote style or oversized hobo bag. Although some women claim these bags are bulky and overwhelming, I find them to be perfect for the girl who feels she needs to carry everything (me).

Taking my oversized purse out in small social settings often feels like I’m carrying a 75-pound English bulldog on my shoulder. With the slightest turn I can easily knock out 3 innocent bystanders without even realizing it, racking up more casualties on a night out than a ten minute stint in an early 1980s Sylvester Stallone war flick.

Yet, the idea of a clutch purse for evenings is absolutely ludicrous. How could I possibly fit everything I need into something the size of a small envelope? And choosing the contents that would make the cut would be too painful. On the nights when a clutch purse is used I end up carrying a larger purse in my car so I’m never too far from my necessities. And, although women who can subsist on lip gloss and a credit card fascinate me, deep down I know I can never conform.

In the end, handbag styles and self-improvement conquests may come and go, but my 5-zippered hobo bag is here to stay.

Click for original publication on delamina.com