The Dumbest Material Object I Have An Unreasonable Sentimental Attachment To

I’m not even going to post a photo of what it is because it’s just that dumb. This object has stayed with me across three Toronto residences and three New York residences; I have taken it with me on every trip over the last nine years of my life. I have held this object over numerous trash cans, waiting to drop it in the garbage where it rightfully belongs, and every time I hesitate. There is no accounting for sentiment, I suppose, but this is getting ridiculous.

What is this magical thing, you ask? It is…a cheap black plastic makeup bag I received as part of my employment at one of Canada’s fanciest department stores.

I know!! I don’t understand it either!!!!

In 2006, I was hired as a contract employee for the holiday rush at said department store; my particular location was in the mall closest to my house. At the time, this department store was considered one of the very best places to work retail. They paid exceptionally well, offered excellent benefits, and provided an absurdly fair employee discount on their very expensive merchandise, particularly on cosmetics. I was a student and had a part-time job that I hated, so my rationale was that I would quit that job, work like a beast through the holidays to save up some money, and treat myself to a little bit of time off in January and February.

As part of your employment, you got some things: a nametag, obviously, as well as a cute little pin with the initials of the store, and the aforementioned cheap black plastic makeup bag. It wasn’t a makeup bag, necessarily; that’s just what all the girls I worked with used it for. The idea was that you carried it with you all over the store so that you always had what you needed when you needed it. The store was so big that getting to and from the staff break room, depending on what section you had been assigned to, could be a ten-minute walk there and back! Considering we all got two 15-minute breaks on top of a one-hour lunch break per eight-hour shift (I know, this place was like an actual retail heaven on earth), every employee with this makeup bag could stash their phone, wallet, keys, and little snacks so that they could steal away for their 15 minutes without wasting time go to and from their locker.

For my 15-minute breaks I would often go sit on the benches inside the mall proper, outside the department store, because it was too cold to go outside but I still wanted to be near windows and the semblance of natural light; no windows in the department store, just soft yellow lights. Or if I was restless I would wander around the hallways. There were so many employees at this department store it was impossible to know them all, but sometimes I would see other people with the nametag and the pin and the black makeup bag tucked under their arm, and we would smile and nod because we knew each other even if we didn’t know each other, you know?

So that was nine whole years ago. You could argue that I like the bag because I have so many good memories of that job, and you would be right but also WRONG because my genius plan fell apart when I fell off a ladder restocking swimsuits. I lost a toenail and got a concussion, two things I know are true even though I have no recollection of the hospital, the tests, the diagnosis, or even the day following the event, but I do remember the large check I received from the Worker Safety and Insurance Board, which I did use to buy myself a month of not working retail, so, you win some, you lose some.

This bag has a huge hole in one corner and is stained with so much evidence of the leaking and broken bottles I’ve stuffed in there over those last nine years. When I pack it in my suitcase, Q-tips and cotton pads spill out over my t-shirts. One day the whole thing is going to fall apart at the seams!! There is no logical reason to keep this dumb bag. And yet here I am packing for yet another trip (what’s up Calgary, see you tomorrow) and putting all my makeup inside it! I just…love this silly thing. Mostly I think what I like is that it removes the thought process from one element of travel. Like, ok, here is where my makeup goes, and here is where it’s always gone, and that is that.

What’s the dumbest thing you have a sentimental attachment to? Tell me!!