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Man defends use of purse

By Rober Me Thomas Jr.

"N.Y. Times Service

NEW, YORK

The

first thing I'd better get straight is that I got my purse as a · Christmas present from my wife.. I wouldn't want those who care about such things to get the wrong idea about my deployment of what until fairly recently has been virtually a homosexual identification badge.

And while I am at it, let me quickly add that my 11-year-old twin sons have voiced no objections to my shoulder model partly because it comes in handy to tote their sweaters, gloves, programs, autograph pencils and other indispensibles for evening at Shea Stadium.

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It all started with a few pre-Christmas hints, whenever I spotted a picture of one of the few men's purses that found its tentative way into last season's catalogs.

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I let it be known I had my eye on a $70 nylon French créel, as masculine as a trout stream, from Abercrombie Fitch which a friend of mine had begun carrying around stuffed with tennis shoes and other athletic necessaries. But my wife surprised me:

"Very Milano,” continental friend commented when I modeled the elegant canvas shoulder bag in front of the Christmas tree.

It was very white, slender, almost delicate, I thought. But inside, the tag said it came from Quaker Marine Supply Co., which gave the bag a reassuring feeling of rusticity.

allows gray-suited executives to wear red vests through New Year's), my purse remained on the shelf all winter.

And there it might have stayed if it hadn't been for the usual summer dilemma of how to dispense with a sweltering suit or sports jacket without having a leftover pile of glasses, case, comb, cigarettes, notebook, pen and who-knows-what-else that finds its way into coat pockets.

I finally risked an early outing to a night game at Shea, and was I glad I'd tucked my windbreaker underneath the binoculars.

“YOU NEED A NICE STRAIGHTJACKET TO GO WITH YOUR PURSE, DEAR."

aged to stay jacketless, cool and, by using the bag to stow a plastic raincoat, reasonably dry.

About the only thing I don't carry in the bag is money. Nevertheless, I insist on calling my bag a purse, partly to head off snide comments from those less certain of their masculinity. So far, it has worked. I've been accosted by no mocking limp wrists, and the most common comment is, “Where did you get it?”

As it happens, my wife picked it up at Paul Stuart, the Madison Ave-

nue store that caters to the same he-man clientele as Brooks Brothers and

Since then, my purse Abercrombie.

"I cradle it against my stomach getting-in and out of cabs and through swinging doors...

has gone just about everywhere. In addition to stock suit-jacket items. I've carried books, assorted papers, incidential purchases, and, on one occasion, a tightly folded suit jacket as protection against evening plans of uncertain formality.

Still, with the exception of a few Christmastime tryouts (when the reactions of friends were temDuring a recent spell of pered by the same hot, humid days and rainYuletide dispensation that soaked evenings, I man-

At less than $20 it is the best bag of its kind I've seen for its purpose. The canvas material is lighter and more flexible than ́ leather models, and its main pocket expands to hold a camera, tape recorder, extra film and cigarettes and various other small items, with stuffing room left over.

It has taken some getting used to, but I'm

learning. I cradle it against my stomach getting in and out of cabs and through swinging doors, nestle it on my lap on subways and grab for it every time it slips off my shoulder when I lean over to pick something up.

Aside from its undisputed utility, my purse has also put me in the early second wave of what could become the most revolutionary .fashion development. since, well, since men stopped carrying leather pouches, bags. and other totes after the frontier days.

The coat-and-tie syndrome still seems well entrenched, however, but who knows what will happen now that purses are undermining the utilitarian value of pockets. (Remember hats?)

Whether the purse turns out to be a passing fad, a resurrected masculine appurtenance, or something in between, the immediate questions are: "Is one purse enough?" "Is there something beyond the shoulder bag?”

In Italy, where the fashion evidently started (the super-lovers could not even carry a back pocket handkerchief without destroying the magnificent line of their skin-tight trousers), scouts report the men have given up shoulder bags for small leather totes they carry around in their hands.

Since a major advantage of my shoulder bag is that it keeps my hands free for whatever two-fisted masculine chores I might be called on to perform, the new Italian development seems counterproductive.

Besides, clutch bags are for sisses.

A DAY OF LOVE

By Lois Wyse