Longchamp: I'm theirs.

I said to the saleswoman, "You don't understand.  This is too much fun.  I gotta get outta here."  I wouldn't call it a problem, but more like a deeply rooted fanaticism, a sordid kind of love.  Bags:  they make me feel whole.  It is love, a rare and perfect kind.  And Longchamp is mixed up within that, along with numerous others.

Longchamp let me photograph.  It was the Thomas Heatherwick one on Spring Street. The more exotic skins were on the ground floor: leopard, snake, embossed animals.  And they let me walk right up to the grizzly bear.  They let me get close.

It's sadomasochistic in a way, getting that close to what I can't have, and yet I did it.  I do it to myself. 

I reached, picked it up, looked at it with my head cocked to one side like I could see through it.  I put it back on the shelf, stepped away, collected myself and shot.  A multi-tiered process and I did it again and again.  Out of compulsion?  For the thrill of it, I guess.  The adrenaline.  The smell, it sticks to the skin so that I remember.

Photos now, bags later.  I'll be back.  They know I will.  I'm theirs.

The It Bag Tote

The Veau Foulonne' Laptop Case

The Veau Foulonne' Spider Bracelet

The Parade Bag in Brass

The Veau Foulonne' Accessory Strap

Longchamp Ready To Wear Fall 2009 Coat Line