Fox and Grapes Handbag. 1960s. Maker: Midas of Miami. Gorgeous red velvet on white wicker basket-style purse, featuring an adorable figural rendering of Aesop’s famous story “The Fox and the Grapes.” The fox is made of white felt with blue rhinestone eyes. The grapes are three-dimensional, possibly milk glass. Gold rickrack and goldtone metal leaves complete the design. Aesop’s tale is about how the fox can’t reach grapes hanging up high, so the fox says they’re probably sour anyway. This story led to the popular expression “sour grapes.” Which means it’s easy to despise what you can’t get. There’s much I can say here about coveting the unattainable, but, honestly, I don’t despise what I can’t have. I’ll just wait until I become a bazillionaire and buy all the purses I want. MUAHAHAHAHAHAHA!

Multi-colored Plastic Cord Purse. 1940s. Maker unknown, but some of these bags were made by the Plasticoil company. Many sellers and collectors refer to these as “Telephone Cord” or “Phone Cord” purses, but that's not accurate, since they were produced in an era before colorful phones were popular. My understanding is that, after World War II, some of the companies that produced wartime plastics were out of a job, so they started making these funky bags. I’ve seen them in white, ivory, brown, black, navy, and multi, in all sorts of shapes and conditions, with a variety of zipper pulls and closures. While I was researching these on the Web, I saw another one I just love. But I’m not going to buy it. I’m not. I’m not… oh, no… I feel myself weakening… weak... weaker...

Gold Lamè Purse with Casino Matchbooks. Late 1960s-early 1970s. Maker: Faye Mell. Big, bold, make-a-statement handbag in shiny gold leather with a clear plastic insert in the front. Behind the insert: vintage matchbooks from Caesar’s Palace, Stardust Hotel and Casino, Dunes Las Vegas, Folies Bergere-Hotel Tropicana and another one, which doesn’t show a hotel, but a picture of a cactus next to the 18th hole of a golf course. In the center is fake money and miniature jack-queen-king of diamonds cards. Also has a blue plastic poker chip and multi-colored rhinestones.This is one swingin’ handbag, whether you’re a high-roller or a nickel-slot player. Me? I love three-card poker and that is one sweet hand.

Costume Motif Quilted Fabric Bag. Maker: Delill. Probably from the 1960s*. Heavy goldtone damascene-like metal frame with metal flower closure. Goldtone metal chain. Quilty-soft fabric panels are stitched together, with one side featuring an artist’s rendering of late 19th century ladies and the words “Time of Foundations – Germany 1885” and “Period of Foundations – Germany 1882” at the bottom, which you can sort of see in the photo below. The other side (not shown) has quilted panels of women in Renaissance garb and the words “Italian Renaissance – About 1505” and “German Renaissance Dress for Ladys (sic) – about 1510.” Delill is mostly known for its mini-trunk hard-sided purses, but they also made some swell cloth bags, like this one. She looks a little scroungy because I use her. I can’t help myself. She’s just too cool to keep hidden in a closet.

*Note: I initially had this placed at the '70s, but another source says these bags are circa 1950s. I'm not so sure, but I did take into consideration the metal frame and the use of the costume print, which I've seen in box bags and mid-century art as well. So I compromised. The '60s it is.

Collins of Texas Poodle Bucket Bag. A duo of white-painted poodles on denim fabric with white vinyl trim, amber jewels, elongated white beads (for the flowers), rhinestones and a wooden bottom. Enid Collins was a purse-making genius and all-around artiste who opened her first shop in 1959. She sold her company in the ‘70s to the Tandy Corporation. Her whimsical bags are currently in huge demand by discerning collectors, especially if they’re a rare design and/or in mint condition. This little baby is one of the later Tandy creations, but I’ve never seen it anywhere else. The poodle motif in general is highly desirable among purse aficionados, but to be a poodle AND a Collins bag is downright drool-worthy.

Popsicle™ Stick Purse. Funky shape and sturdy plastic handle. Sticks are glued together and simple hardware is screwed in. Could have been made in the ‘40s with the groovy wooden, painted ‘shroom applied decades later, but suspect it to be from the late 1960s or early 1970s. This type of purse was originally a form of “prison art”—craft therapy for the incarcerated—but bored homemakers got into the act somewhere along the way. I’ve also heard it referred to as “folk art” and “tramp art.” I have a bunch of Popsicle™—or “craft”—stick purses in different shapes and sizes—with and without adornment. I like this one because it combines the elements of ice cream innocence with hallucinogenic fungi.

Spanish Dancer Purse. Late 1960s. Made from a Jewel Tone Handbag kit produced by General Crafts Corporation. The kits originally sold for $10 to crafty housewives who would create their own “practical handbag of luxurious fabric in 3 fashionable colors—BLACK—OLIVE—NATURAL, superbly finished with harmonizing trim, genuine mahogany bottom and personal zipper pocket.” This enticing description is direct from “The New, Fabulous Jewel Tone Handbag” catalog, which was tucked inside each box, along with “exciting jewels, braids and sequins” to glue to the bare make-by-number-style purse. The Spanish Dancer is one of the rarer designs. I have two of ‘em. That is, I have tons of kit purses, but I have TWO Spanish Dancers. I’m such a handbag hog. I should be ashamed. I should be.