In Missy Smith’s report on “A taste of fall handbags,” she begs the question “But who can put a price on fashion?” I can, Ms. Smith, I can.

I put a price on fashion when said fashion closely resembles that of my grandmother’s yarn bag from 1989.

Actually, that is insulting to my late grandmother. She was a stylish lady, who stayed away from prints that might come out of the clearance fabric bin at Hobby Lobby.

I don’t make any claims of fashion expertise, but I do admire nice fabric, from brocade upholstery to simple cotton, and own a few bags that even Tim Gunn might approve of.

The patterns on Vera Bradley bags make me want to vomit – on or in the bags themselves.

The aesthetically tired “style” of these bags is comparable to the North Face fleece jackets they often accompany: unflattering, overpriced and better suited for the elderly (who, after many years of experience, might have better sense not to purchase either).

I have seen these bags infesting my classes for the last year or so, not knowing where they came from. I’m pleased to know that not only are these totes ugly, but they are also expensive. When it comes to the questionable taste of those persons shelling out the cash for an $80 eyesore, the phrase “You get what you pay for” takes on a whole new meaning.

J.S. Cavallero

Senior in LAS