Ode To My Prada Suitcase

Oh, do you remember the day we first met? It was a cool fall day in Milan. I had just started working with an Italian department store and was traveling there often. You stood out from the other “bags” in the Prada store near the Dormo. I saw the practical side of you, the carry on side, back zip pocket for a laptop, high grade wheels for all terrain airports. But it was your adventurous side that sold me. The places we would travel, the jetsetter image you inspired. The world seemed like an open destination and I would become a citizen of that world, with you my Prada Suitcase. You didn’t come cheap but at the time when the lira was 2000 to 1 US dollar you were money well invested in for the future.

17 years later and over 500,000 miles you have never let me down. I have always, but for the rare occasion, carried you on. You were with me pre 9/11 and continued to give me the same confidence and grace during the new security procedures. You screamed, “this is a professional now step back and let us though.” You have been with me in every possible business situation, from opening a store in Chile to working with highland Indians in Peru. Like a magician, I have always been able to fit one more pair of shoes snug in your embrace. After learning to fold origami style, you let me carry 10 days of outfit changes, and no one ever questioned your weight because of your svelte shape. You traveled with me on holidays, you supported me during tearful flights. You’ve been my pillow on countless airport floors, my computer desk on layovers, and my walk-in closet when hopping from place to place. My faithful travel companion.

Now the time has come to say good bye. All those years of faithful service have broken you. Your wheels are no longer smooth. You have a huge tear in the pocket where the laptop can no longer go. Your leather trim has worn away, and you’ve had 2 surgeries to replace your zipper. Your wire protective trim pokes outs and attacks fellow passengers when they wander too close. The handle to which to pull you from can only be opened or closed by me. Instead of being a symbol of success, you have become an image of a has- been. It’s time my dear friend to part.

I know you are just a material thing, an object with no feeling but you do create emotion in me. You are a clear example how fashion doesn’t sell pants or dresses, or in your case, suitcases. It sells emotion. Thank you friend for always making me feel like a jetsetter even while flying in coach. RIP my Prada suitcase. You will be missed and not easily replaced.