The Picotin Revelation
Your posture straightens. Your soul prepares. The Hermès invitation beams down on your mortal life like a celestial summons. This is the call. The ancient drum. The chance to transcend your current tax bracket without doing anything productive.
Then the sales associate smiles.
You already sense the twist forming in their aura.
The Annoyance
You walked in expecting prophecy. Maybe not a Birkin. Maybe not a Kelly. But something with structure. Something with spine. Something that whispers legacy.
Then you hear the words.
“We can offer you a Picotin.”
Time stops.
You try to act grateful.
Your spirit does not cooperate.
The Picotin sits there. Soft. Round. Friendly.
A bag with no ambition.
A bag that would never judge you for anything.
Which is the problem.
The Absurd Diagnosis
Condition: Hierarchical Couture Disappointment Syndrome
Symptoms include:
- Sudden spinal deflation
- Silent internal screaming
- Dramatic reassessment of your lifetime purchase history
- Acute awareness of the bag’s barnyard origins
- Faint existential nausea at the phrase “entry level”
Common triggers:
Blind hope.
Overconfidence.
Retail lighting.
A Low-Key Cure
Walk away. Not dramatically. Just enough to confuse the universe.
Drink water.
Pretend you were actually looking for something “casual.”
Let the disappointment evaporate on its own schedule.
The cure is time and selective memory.
The Witty Insight
Real status is invisible.
The Picotin is too.
Which might be the actual joke.
Conclusion
You leave the store unchanged but slightly rearranged.
Your posture returns to normal.
Your expectations dissolve back into the mist.
The Picotin floats through your mind for a moment before fading into the void.
Sometimes fashion is a spiritual test.
Sometimes the test is small, square, and politely unstructured.
SOME DOSE approves this mild delusion.