Nothing like a little ‘retail therapy’ to cheer up my daughter A this weekend. It was a true mother daughter bonding experience. We went to the King (short for King of Prussia Mall in PA, as my son D calls it. Speaking of son D, I let him have my condo on the corner at the shore this weekend. Since I had let his sister A have it with her friends last weekend, I had promised to give him a weekend with his friends too. Something is wrong here…sounds like I am the one losing out, especially with the gorgeous sunny weather, it was a fabulous condo on the corner at the shore weekend, but I wasn’t there. Instead, I was at home doing ‘retail therapy.’).

Daughter A was still very upset about the breakup with ex-boyfriend A. (It is official as of Tuesday. Or, was it Monday evening when A called me to say that ex-boyfriend A had emailed her to say after a month it was an offical breakup? I can’t remember. I just remember the hysteria on the phone.)

A came home for the weekend and I suggested that there is nothing like a little ‘retail therapy’ to get over a breakup. Pasta, chocolate and wine are also good therapy for a breakup. That’s what we did on Friday night.

On Saturday, we arrived at King ready to shop. First, we went to Nordstroms where A tried on several fantastic pairs of boots. Yes, I said boots. I know it was 90 degrees outside, but A was ready to forget the summer and head into fall with a new wardrobe. I loved the Jessica Simpson black suede boots she tried on. They looked fabulous on her. It was sure to be a purchase, I thought as she put them on hold before we headed off to the next store.

“I have to look great this fall,” said A. “Yes, you do,” I agreed. “Absolutely, you have to look great and you will. Those boots will look smashing with sooooo many fall and winter outfits.”

I went to Banana Republic to purchase some tees (BR short sleeve tagless tees are so comfy under a suit – I highly recommend them), while A went off to Bloomies to check on handbags. A found a Cole Haan handbag she liked.

“Mom, you have to see this handbag,” said A when I caught up with her, “I really like it.”

“I don’t know about that handbag,” I said. “It is too large, too big, too much bag for your body size.”

“Really? You don’t like it?” said A. “No, I don’t,” I replied.

“But, I really want and need a new handbag,” said A. “You know, I’ve always wanted a Louis Vuitton handbag.”

“Well, then we should go to the Louis Vuitton store,” I said, “I like LV bags more than this Cole Haan one. (I must have been having a fiftysomething moment of pre-dementia. I can’t believe I said that! OMG! Did I really say that we or she should go to the Louis Vuitton store? Why would I suggest this to a twentysomething who was going through breakup ‘retail therapy?’ It was sure to lead to some serious $$$ out of the bank account.)

And there we were, fiftysomething Judi (who has never owned a real LV handbag, only a tiny fake one I once bought on Canal Street in NYC) and daughter A (who was about 15 minutes from purchasing a real LV for $$$).

“Can I help you?” said the nice salesperson.

“Yes,” said A. “I would like to see the LV Speedy.”

And then…and then…and then, A put the LV Speedy on her arm. I think it was love at first sight. I knew she would never take it off her arm. It looked so great on her arm too, like it was made just for her.

“I love it,” said A, “I really love it. I’ve always wanted this bag.”

“I love it too,” I said, “I really love it too.”

“I love it,” said A, “I really love it. I’ve always wanted this bag.”

“I love it too,” I said, “I really love it too.”

“Should I get it?” A said, “Do you think I should spend $$$ of my inheritance on this handbag?”

She began to rationalize that the handbag was quite economical…especially after the salesperson said the handbag would last a lifetime. Then A told me how her friend E had borrowed her mom’s LV Speedy which was likely a 30+ year old handbag. (Oh no, had I deprived my daughter by not buying my own LV Speedy 30+ years ago? If I had, she would not have had to spend a chunk of her inheritance yesterday. At least, I now know that my future granddaughter or granddaughters will one day inherit their mother’s LV Speedy. They will not be deprived. No, no, no, they will not be deprived.)

“Do it,” I said, “Just do it.” (OMG, did I really say that she should buy the Louis Vuitton handbag for $$$? Did I really say that? I did. I did. I did.)

“That was my first Louis,” said another woman in the shop who looked about my age. “You are going to love it forever.”

As the salesperson rang up A’s sale and prepped the bag for its exit, she said to A, “What’s the special occasion? Your birthday? Graduation?”

“My boyfriend just broke up with me. It’s a ‘break-up bag,'” said A.

“Well that’s the best reason for a Louis Vuitton handbag. said the salesperson, “it will always be there for you.”

As we left the store, A had a smile on her face. Actually, she had a big grin on her face.

“I can’t believe I just did that,” said A.

“I can’t believe it either,” I added.

As I drove A and her LV Speedy to the bus stop to catch the bus to NYC this afternoon, she really did look great with her new handbag on her arm. And, unlike ex-boyfriends who may come and go, A’s LV Speedy will hopefully always make her happy. Plus, even when she is fiftysomething and the leather handles have turned dark brown, the canvas will never wrinkle. No, it will never wrinkle. It is simply ageless.