The Chloé Vivian Tote: a tale of my mother and a new bag

Growing up my mother always looked immaculate.  Not in a princess-y sort of way but in a it's-so-much-nicer-to-look-put-together sort of way. Persian, she eschewed the conspicuous consumption for which Iranians were stereotypically known, and never liked her labels to show.  But she cared about her appearance and was fastidious in what she wore.  While other mothers came to school to fetch their children wearing just about anything, my mother was always dressed.  Always discreet, always elegant, always ladylike.  Her waist was tiny, her clothes were tailored, her hair was in place.  

I, on the other hand, was not immaculate.  There was my skateboarding phase, complete with knees covered in bandaids, and then there was my too-much-eyeliner phase, accompanied by an unbridled passion for Jim Morrison T shirts.  Suffice it to say that neither were good looks.  

As I have grown older my taste in fashion has continued to evolve and, I hope, improve.  For the last decade or two, I've had a penchant for clothing and accessories with an exotic flair or a slightly rocker edge. But these days I find myself gravitating towards things that are simpler, cleaner and a bit more structured.  In a wardrobe purge that left me breathless, this Fall I gave away no less than 125 pieces of clothing. Left in my closet is less color and pattern, but more items that actually work together{what a concept}. 

A Christmas present to myself:  the Chloé Vivian Tote.  White and porcelain leather, matte gold hardware.  For six months of warm Marrakesh weather and sized for a lap top. 

Chloe Vivian bag

Chloe bag
I think my mother would approve.