“Yes!” To think, I almost chose room service over this. “Come on, let’s go!”

The evening passes in a blur of stores and lights and laughing with Leah, trying on everything and taking a million selfies together. Leah was right. There aren’t any paparazzi waiting around the corner to bombard us with photos, and the longer we stay out, the more relaxed I feel.

As we enter our tenth (or maybe hundredth—who’s counting?) store, my eyes immediately zero in on the display of bags against the wall. Specifically, one bag: a robin’s-egg blue Balenciaga goatskin satchel with stitching detail on the straps.

Drawn like a magnet, I gravitate toward it, feeling my pulse race.

The leather is soft to the touch and smells impossibly like fresh starts and second chances, almond ice cream and gardenias. It’s big enough for a book, phone, makeup bag, and handheld mini fan—which are all I really need in life—and it’s sturdy without feeling heavy. The strap slings snugly over my shoulder like it was meant to be there. I’ve read articles about this sweet thing, but it’s my first time seeing it in person. And now I know: This is it. The perfect complement to my airport look. My heart in handbag form. Aka, The One.

“Unni, j’adore! I’m obsessed,” Leah says, coming up behind me. “It has you written all over it.”

“Right?” My voice comes out hushed, like we’ve stumbled into a church, which we basically have, since I’m pretty sure what I’m experiencing is a spiritual awakening. I flip over the price tag. It’s… well, what you’d expect from a religious experience in the shape of a satchel.

“Are you going to get it?” Leah asks.

“I’ll…”

Not be able to sleep at night until I own it…

Regret my entire life if I don’t buy it…

Never have these feelings of true bag love again…

“… think about it,” I finish reluctantly as the rational 5 percent of my brain reawakens and begins screaming alarm bells. My mother bred good saving habits in me—never spend more than you’ve made in a month all in one place—and as much as I’m a shopping addict, there’s always a voice in my head tsk-tsking. I put the bag down.

For now. Either my iron will and impeccable self-discipline will triumph, or I’ll be back in the morning for this baby—it’s a win either way, I figure.