Special edition Oldenvault bag: high-grade plastic with hand-applied Sharpie.

Imagine, for a moment, an object that has some basic utility. A capacious bag, say. This carryall is made of canvas with a durable polyurethane coating. Its thin leather handles are reinforced with synthetic contrast stitching. Interior zippers are the standard coiled nylon—probably YKK. It’s a widely available object, from midwestern malls to European metropolises. Those who notice it find it familiar, typical—a common sight on women and men in both Bangor and Bangkok. The one extraordinary feature is price: depending on size and manufacturer, these bags go for mid to high four figures. These are luxury handbags.

The mouth-watering retail scenario that large conglomerates enjoy is a perfect storm of covetousness, healthy margins, and distribution that relies upon the sly but brilliant erosion of what luxury really means. That so many consumers happily display almost identical accessories—that the patterns and logos are so ingrained—means these big names have succeeded in their mass delusion. I don’t begrudge them; like the dry-cleaning and laundry industry, complacency of the consumer is the chief enabler of lowered expectations. It nevertheless needs saying, if only for the preservation of an otherwise good word: to qualify, true luxury must be rare, expertly crafted, composed of unusual and limited materials, and, only because of these qualities, be expensive. Expensiveness alone is lazy.

A modest black handbag made of cowhide, brass and common sense.

I’m not interested in ranting though. Instead I’m proposing that real luxury is still available, but only to the consumer who, in addition to expense, must dedicate time, research, creative input and risk into its acquisition. He or she must act as both the finance and creative departments, budgeting, designing, sourcing, negotiating and inspecting. This is the approach I have taken with a recent furniture project; it was arduous, frequently discouraging, and, finally, satisfying.

A canvas and leather carryall, lovingly anointed by the perils of travel.

I’m curious to see if the same principle can be applied to that most recognizable of luxury accessories—the woman’s handbag. I’m inspired by two my wife already has, which, by way of my definition above, aren’t all that luxurious. The materials are humble: cowhide, canvas, brass fittings. They are substantial and well crafted though, and have noticeably patinated since they were purchased in Spain a decade ago. This is especially true of the larger of the two, which is her carry-on when we travel and has suffered every calamity a bag charged with that task might endure, from a toppled Bloody Mary to serving as a receptacle for a rather ill infant.

The project is ambitious and almost certainly bristling with hurdles. My hope is that a bag will emerge from the fog that is well made and of excellent components; whether what results qualifies under my admittedly narrow parameters of luxury will be a truer test than any rant against the institution. If it passes, I might be emboldened to participate further in what might eventually be coined as micro luxury, or, considering the effort involved, lunacy. I’m open to suggestions for subsequent projects, although I’m partial to a garment bag made chiefly of shell cordovan and keeper's tweed.