No Purse in Store for Me

The tragedy of it! I sit here with a lip ulcer so big, that I will christen it "Winston." Anyway, Winston and I have been surfing the Internet looking for the ideal purse. I have been searching for a good one for ages, and have cruelly stymied by the evil fashion whims of those who would foist mustard and electric green Oompa Loompa parachute sacks as acceptable merchandise to stores out there.
A purse is a very sensitive issue. It has to be just so. It can't be too small, or too frumpy, or too weird-shaped. My purse is where I keep the important things: bobby pins and crumpled receipts from 8 months ago. For several months I also lugged around a Starbucks gift card that had like two and a half cents on it, but presenting to the cashier would have been like trying to pay for my cinammon dulce latte with a peso. My friend Sandy has a total mom purse. On the outside it looks trendy enough, but one glimpse of the cavernous inside reveals what is really held in its depths: keys, wallet, medicine, water bottle, collapsable staircase, several parchment scrolls from the Greek revival, magic flying slippers, etc.
So anyway, I suppose I am stuck for now with my little black Liz Claiborne number that I bought at Ross. I guess it could be worse. I've stocked up on shoes, because now I hear that puce is making a comeback...