Going back a few hundred years, purses were bags with easy access slits that were tied around a woman’s waist by a string and hung underneath her skirt. These hidden bags were called pockets. Think about that for a minute. The thing you call a pocket is really a bag with an easy access slit sewn inside whatever you’re wearing so that nobody can see it. The only difference is today you can’t take your pocket with you when you take off your pants. Back to purse history. We had these bags with straps. If we were poor, they were made of rough fabric and undecorated. If we had two pennies to rub together, they were made of finer linen and were beautifully embroidered. No one could see them except our servants, but we had the satisfaction of knowing our pockets were better than everyone else’s. Why did we start calling them purses instead of pockets? The old Norse word for bag, pusi, turned into Old English pusa which mashed up with Latin bursa to become purs. Thus, today purse means bag, baggy, wrinkled, and by extension, a wrinkled old bag. Not what you expected, huh? Somewhere in time, a very bold woman decided to hang her pocket on the outside of her garment, probably because she was tired of not being able to flaunt the fact that her pocket was better than everyone else’s. Also, it was easier to access because the slits in the sides of her skirts went out of style. Fashion interceded. Waistlines rose to ridiculous heights, which may be why the pocket started being called a Reticule. It was a pretty little thing hung from the wrist or hand, and it may have contained a handkerchief, a few coins, and certainly several pins in case something came loose. The Reticule, however small, was an absolute necessity in the completion of a lady’s attire. Before we knew it…well, something like 100 years…the Reticule expanded into a carrying case made of fabric, leather or fur and even went so far as to be sewn into muffs that reached below the knees. Leap forward to the1940s - 1950s. The impressionable young brains of today’s Active Seniors were being indelibly imprinted by the sight of our mothers carrying those darling things coveted now by vintage shoppers everywhere: Bags. A purse was a thing you used when you put on your shoes and went somewhere. Pocketbook was another word for purse. But when you dressed up, say for church or a luncheon or a social gathering, what you carried was a Bag. Better yet, if you went out in the evening, you carried an Evening Bag. Hats had their place. Yet nothing could match the feeling of superiority as when a woman owned the best Bag she could afford. The Bag was the tell-tale symbol of rank and fortune, other than an ermine coat and a Bentley, with a driver of course. Whatever one’s place in the social strata, the Bag one carried mattered. That pretty much ended with the social revolutions of the 1960s. Oh, Bags still mattered among the elite and those whose of us whose tastes had been set in cement during the 1950s. However, for the tie-dye generation, the Bag reflected the new era of equality. It turned itself into a sack made of crocheted yarn, burlap Batiks, and Op Art prints. Hard on those heels came huge luggage-like things that went with oversized shoulder pads and big hair. Our fore-mentioned prized vintage Bags were just large enough to contain a delicate hanky, a mirror, face powder, lipstick, a coin purse, a few hair pins, and perhaps a key. The modern purse had so much storage capacity, we found it best to accumulate an assortment of smaller zippered bags that held entire categories of stuff we now found necessary for life on the go. Take for example the cosmetic bag. It could hold a cabinet's worth of miniaturized beauty products. A second zippered bag, in a different color of course, might contain emergency supplies: bandaids, first-aid kits, nail glue, tampons, and just-in-case condoms. Pill boxes could be crammed with aspirin, prescription medications, antihistamines, a spare Valium, anything we might need if we were, G-d forbid, stranded somewhere for a few extra hours. The prettily colored men's wallets with coin purses stitched outside that first flooded the market were soon replaced with more capacious versions holding credit cards, checkbooks, registers, datebooks, and oddments. For a while we were fooled into thinking these nouveau wallets were all we needed to carry. That didn’t last long. We soon realized they, too, needed to be tossed into a purse. Mini-slots were always useful for gum, mouth fresheners, snack bars, cigarettes and lighters. Key chains dangling more keys than we knew what they opened had to be big and clumsy enough that we could quickly access them in whatever pit they had descended. Lacking their own zippered containers, you might still find 2 or 3 pens, a notebook, an envelope for store coupons, a scarf, and maybe a cleverly folded shopping bag. As for mothers of young children, they either carried two bags or shoved the equivalent contents of a kitchen cupboard into their already crammed purses. And backpacks. Let’s never forget about backpacks. We’ll get to them later. It was no longer possible to carry a purse on one’s arm; they were just too heavy. Shoulder straps were de jour. Of course, shoulder straps were popular in the 1920s, but look at what hung from them—little beaded things that held a key and lipstick. They weighed nothing, whereas our new bags were heavy enough to squash the flesh off your shoulders and flatten your spinal discs. Then came the thing that would divide the purse world for the foreseeable future: mobile telephones. A special slot for a mobile phone had to be added to the standard purse blueprint. Inside was OK, but outside was better, for faster access in case somebody called. That was nothing compared to what happened when mobile phones got smart. Smart phones changed the planet and all purse fashion therein. Smart phones grew so smart I don’t know why we bother to call them phones any more. They should be called Intergalactic Communication Devices. ICDs. Almost everything a woman needs to carry with her can be found on her smart phone. Keys, credit cards, bank cash transfers, writing tools, retinal ID: smart phones do all that. For everything else, she can use her clothing pockets or carry a Wristlet or phone wallet, which, let’s admit, is a total reversion to the days of the Reticule. Young women with smart phones will tell you they have nothing in common with those of us whose purse habits were defined before they were born. We could omit them from further discourse if it wasn’t for the fact that these very same minimalists have been seen easing into purse carriers as they age, looking for bargain discounts of brand names and saving up for that special Bag. So, over their objections, we shall leave them in the queue. Here is where we segue from history to psychology. Have you ever rifled through another woman’s purse without her permission, I mean other than to steal something? Of course not! To do so would be an unforgivable violation of trust and deeply resented. Even though we all carry more or less the same things, our purses are…let’s be honest…a 3-dimensional and totally private portrait of our personal habits. If you doubt this, conduct an experiment. Let someone else unpack your purse. If you are not a little embarrassed by what is fished out, you’re probably OCD. You can call yourself organized instead if that makes you feel better. Stop to watch a woman rummage through her purse for something. The search will reveal as much as this month’s horoscope. Some women will go straight to the right compartment, pull out the object in question, and return it promptly to its proper place. If you dump those purses upside down, I can almost promise you will not hear the clink of loose change or see the flutter of gum wrappers or used tissues. These women Rule the World and All Things in It. They typically change purses to match their outfits. Then there are those who keep everything pretty much in its place except for the odd tissue, a few wrappers, and a great deal of lint. They can access an item quickly, but need a little more time shoving it back where they want it to go. These women tend to use two purses a year: one for summer and one for winter. They are Reliably Efficient and inclined to be somewhat introverted. We all know women who regard themselves as Organized but for whom every attempt to find something is like diving into an alternate reality where nothing is where they think it should be. They cannot access items quickly. We hear a great deal of mumbling while we wait behind them in the checkout line. “Wait a minute. I know I have it in here some place.” These women usually carry a purse of 10 or more zippered compartments, each one of which may be The Place Where I Know I Just Put It. Interestingly, this group also often changes purses to match their outfits. It’s just that they have so many things on their minds, they forget to pay attention when they transfer contents from one purse to another. What about women who carry a tote bag, a large receptacle into which they toss everything they own? Watching them rifle through the contents is like watching a magic show. You have no idea what sort of dove is going to come fluttering out. These women may be the happiest of all. They have no need for compartments. Very often their hair is simply coifed, perhaps a tad long, and they are wearing comfortable shoes. Their totes are sometimes plain and inexpensive or they can be outrageously expensive one-of-a-kind pieces of art. I believe women with totes are Free Spirits. Backpacks. There’s little to say about backpacks other than once the woman shrugs herself out of it, she can immediately access whatever she seeks because it’s in the outside zippered slot. The rest of the backpack is generally filled with gym clothes, one or more filtered water bottles, and energy bars. Backpackers also tend to wear comfortable yet expensive shoes. If I had to give them a title, it would be Independently Minded, which is sort of funny because I can promise you there’s a water bottle in every backpack. I’m sure I’m leaving out entire categories, such as briefcases and baby totes, but you get the idea by now. A woman’s purse is an extension of her personality. You may be surprised to find yourself suddenly glancing at your purse with newly suspicious eyes, wondering “What is that thing saying about me?” Don’t bother asking your men friends. They use pockets. What do they know?