Everyone assumes that everything you own is designer and/or desirable.
Last week, on a morning commute as typical and colorless as any other, I was in the middle of transferring trains - A to the B at West 4th. As is customary (or, at least, courteous), I stepped back to allow the departing passengers smooth passage. I felt a hand on my shoulder – gentle, but assertive enough to get my attention – and I looked to see a professional woman, pretty, probably mid-30s. I assumed I was blocking her path, so I moved to step aside, but she had a question for me.
“Excuse me.” A rarity to find such manners during the soundless and harried morning commute! “Do you know who made your bag? It’s beautiful!” She honestly gushed.
The crowd pushed me forward into the mouth of the train. But not before I could get out a confused and somewhat apologetic answer.