Old luggage cases are cool. Like, really cool. Every time I see old photos of luggage, I imagine a black and white scene. There’s a woman in a knee length flowy red dress and she’s holding her luggage in one hand and her little black hat in the other while hopping onto a train in slow motion as it’s taking off. Weird, but true.
I found an old suitcase at an estate sale this summer and have it in my living room with another luggage piece my mama got me from Michaels. Together, they are my own little piece of the past. I like to pretend I’m cool and carry the old gray suitcase around my living room while I make up a fabulous story about the woman who might have owned it before me. Maybe she used it to take a train to Chicago. Or New York. Or Boston. Or Hollywood. Or maybe she used it when she moved out of her parents house for the first time.
I’ll never know because she didn’t leave a little note in the lining like the fake people in the movies do. I suppose it will stay in my living room until one day I get a knee length twirling dress and hop on a train with a little hat of my own while a friend films me on a camera with a black and white lens.