Growing up in New York City, we never had any shopping bags in our apartment. My mom was the incinerator queen. From original Disney art (my grandfather worked for Walt) to my stuffed animals, everything went down the chute, including all the shopping bags.

I don’t recall why I needed or wanted them, but I started hoarding shopping bags in the tiny room I shared with my sister. My drawer under our bunk beds began to overflow, so I was forced to bite the bullet and keep only the ones that had sentimental value. That’s how my collection came to be.

At the height of the 2020 pandemic, I decided to reorganize the closet where I keep my 300+ bags. I snapped a few photos of them and posted them online. Within minutes, the comments started pouring in – people loved them. A friend encouraged me to catalog my bags and write the stories behind them. And so the idea for Shopping Bag Lady was born.

Some of my bag stories are about the retailer or proprietor and my experiences with them. Others take a marketer’s point of view and have nothing to do with the retail experience per se. And some are commentaries on the human condition inspired by the bag's image. These take the form of a poem or short essay à la David Sedaris, but without the snark.

I’ve come to realize that shopping bags can tell a person’s life story. These are a few that tell mine.