Meet the Michael Kors "Selma"

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Meet the Michael Kors "Selma"

After French label Céline debuted the winged luggage tote in 2010, other designers high- and low-end began to imitate its distinctive flared gussets, releasing products with similar silhouettes in the years that followed. In the contemporary range, the most successful of these winged luggage-influenced beauties is the MICHAEL by Michael Kors "Selma," easily the most understated piece to come out of Kors' diffusion range.

MICHAEL by Michael Kors is not known for exercising restraint or subtlety. A quick glance at the site's offerings reveals a host of bags in blocky shapes and loud colors with logo hardware, monograms, and chain link accents. The Selma, though, is different -- so different, in fact, that it hardly feels like a Kors piece. It's not out of place in my muted, professional-looking bag collection. 

My thoughts below.

Diffuser by Jo Malone, notebooks by Dear Maison via Poketo.

Diffuser by Jo Malone, notebooks by Dear Maison via Poketo.

Measurements

Dimensions: roughly 13" x 10" x 5"
Drop: handles 4", adjustable strap 18"

Construction

Saffiano leather with cloth lining
4 pockets, incl. 1 that zips

Aesthetics

Clearly the Selma photographs well. It's angular, structured, and sports minimal hardware, all atypical of its siblings and punching well above its $358 price point. (Figure cited is for the large size, which is no longer available. The medium, its replacement, retails at $298.) It comes in a variety of colors and materials, including some colorblock leather-and-fabric ones, and while all are popular, I find the bag does best in a solid neutral shade that lets its silhouette shine.

A nitpicky opinion: I'm not fond of the squarish hardware that attaches the bag's handles to its body. I wish Kors' diffusion line team had decided to fix the handles directly to the bag à la Saint Laurent's Sac de Jour, but doing so likely would have changed the bag’s price point.

Interior pocket view.

Interior pocket view.

Daily Use

I picked up the large Selma in summer 2014, and honestly, I regretted the gargantuan size of it until I started seeing the medium pop up everywhere this past summer and fall. The large is more proportionate, with a more pleasing gusset-to-body ratio. It also holds more stuff without being unwieldy, which, as a pack rat, I appreciate. It has the volume of a tote with the rigidity of a briefcase, easily holding a continental wallet, phone and charger, cereal bars, tablet, makeup, and even a DSLR camera...all at once.   

The Selma comes with a detachable strap, which I frequently used in the beginning, as I was unused to hand-carrying a bag. Over time, I grew more comfortable with the look of the large, rectangular bag in the crook of my arm (how very Los Angeles) and now carry it there, with the strap tucked in.

The Selma’s zipper placement is fantastic: tucked down slightly and framed by stiff leather strips on either side. This is not a bag that will spill your belongings, even if it is unzipped and tips over on its side, since even the open zipper has enough support on either side that everything is contained. This gives me flexibility in how I carry it: I can either use it like a shopping tote and throw things in the open top, or treat it like a satchel and secure everything beneath the zip.

Does the Selma go casual to dressy? Eh, it's debatable. While I've seen people style it casually, the structured look of the Selma is probably more of a professional silhouette -- especially if the bag is black. In black, it's almost indistinguishable at a distance from the executive Prada range. When carrying the Selma I often feel like I need to try a little harder (no t-shirts and certainly no sneakers). 

Maintenance

When it comes to care, the Selma is out-of-this-world accomodating. It is virtually indestructible, does not fade, is unaffected by humidity or rain, and its saffiano body is just about impossible to scratch. Once in a while I go over it with Collonil cream to clean off smudges, but it does not need moisture treatment the way higher end leather would.

Quality & Value

IMO the Selma is the ultimate contemporary range bag. It doesn't run in the let's-not-push-it-for-this-level $500s to $600 range like many Kate Spade or Tory Burch pieces -- especially now that the $358 large size is discontinued, leaving the $298 medium size the priciest Selma option. 

That said, it also doesn't feel like a budget bag. The saffiano leather, though it does cave slightly with wear, shows virtually no signs of aging, even without being stored outside of its dust bag and in a hot, humid climate. Mine looks brand new, even though it's two years old and I treat it mercilessly. The bag even has metal feet to protect the bottom from the surface you're setting it on. That's a nice touch, considering that not even Givenchy (ahem, leather feet on the Antigona) is great about executing this protective feature.

I also appreciate that where corners are cut on the Selma, it's in invisible places. The stitching on the strap is not as secure as I'd like to be, but let's be real, no one looks there. The lining is an unappealing faux-silk monogrammed fabric, but I can live with that, as it won't be the end of the world to stain it.

Pros & Cons

(-) It's Michael Kors, not occasion-versatile, bottomless pit, cheap interior lining, saffiano does not feel luxurious, heavy when full, awkward hardware

(+) under $300 in medium size, easy to care for, both hand- and shoulder-carried, structured, great work bag (fits a tablet or laptop), roomy, logo is subtle, many pockets, photogenic

 

And finally, I can't say how glad I am that the MICHAEL by Michael Kors team managed to resist putting chunky logos all over this piece in particular. So glad. Gotta diversify the offerings, man.

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The Edge of the Earth [2/2]

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The Edge of the Earth [2/2]

After leaving the coast, Nathan & I headed east along the winding Route 101 -- easily the most beautiful highway I have traveled -- to the inland forests and lakes of the Olympic Peninsula.

RAINFORESTS

The Hoh Rainforest is a sprawling thing, dense and atmospheric and, on brighter and warmer afternoons, suffused with an otherworldly golden light. You half expect to become surrounded by fairies and nymphs while you crush brittle fallen leaves underfoot. Northeast of the Hoh region are the dewy, deep and eerie Sol Duc (or Soleduck) forests, chilly and silent and full to the brim with mist. Nestled in its canyon depths are the Sol Duc Falls, which rush over mossy rocks shimmering in the dampness. Sol Duc leaves you breathless. It is a pocket out of time.  

LAKE CRESCENT & ENVIRONS

I thought Lake Quinaut was vast and mirror-like until we arrived at Lake Crescent on a cloudy day. The glacial lake emerges suddenly from between overlapping mountains and draws the eye forward like an arrow to the horizon. As time ticked by, fog rolled down nearby Storm King and blanketed the towering sentinel firs around us in gray. On a clear day, the waters are so clear you can see dropped coins and sunken boat tethers at the bottom. On this drizzly morning, all we saw were shifting pinpricks of rain breaking the tension of the lake.  

HURRICANE RIDGE

And lastly, the mountains called. We took the steep and nerve-wracking road up to the lookout on Hurricane Ridge, made a little easier by the low center of gravity and the stability of our rental Mustang. There was little snow covering the peaks this time, as it was a drier, warmer October, so we were greeted by an unobstructed view of the ridge's gently gradated blue peaks rolling like waves into the distance.  

As tough as it is to tear oneself away from a place like the Olympic Peninsula, a reluctant departure is inevitable for the itinerant traveler. And when it happens, the only consolation is the knowledge that the visitor has ideally perhaps developed a humbled awareness of their smallness in the universe. These forests are ancient. The lakes are prehistoric. Older still are the mountains that once cradled glaciers that came to fill their deep valleys. Older are the rocks that punctuate miles of wild coast, and even older are the pinpoints of brightness that spin above the land in the night, a dome of diffuse starlight. But for me this is enough. No grand changes, no earth-shaking discoveries necessary. Maybe to know such extraordinary and liberating insignificance before the foundations of the Earth is never to leave the great Northwest.

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The Edge of the Earth [1/2]

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The Edge of the Earth [1/2]

Writing about people and experiences that are near and dear to my heart is extraordinarily difficult for me. It comes down to an anxiety about falling short -- about not possessing language sharp and poetic enough to do my subject justice. As Henry James wrote in the novel Roderick Hudson:

"...the faculty of expression is wanting, but the need for expression remains, and I spend my days groping for the latch of a closed door."

The Pacific Northwest is all of these for me: a loved one, a precious experience, an expression I yearn to create, and both the latch and the closed door itself. Upon my first visit to the Northwest in 2011, I thought the region would be my "latch" -- a gorgeous wonderland-as-muse that would lead me to new heights of literary vision. It didn't happen.

I returned in 2013 and again this past fall, and the great Northwest becomes more opaque to me each time. With repeated sadness I've come to regard the Olympic Peninsula as something too large for me, too sublime. I'm regrettably unable to write the traditional traveler's reflection of problem-journey-growth-resolution on my trip, as there is no logic -- no plot arc, no meaning -- to how the Northwest swallows you up in its briskness, its mistiness, its ruggedness…and leaves you humbled and sad and aching at once. 

QUINAULT

We began our trip with Quinault, a glassy lake cradled by forested mountains. Back in 2011 my family passed through the area, found it striking, and regretted not leaving enough time in our schedule to idle on its pebbly shores. With this in mind, my boyfriend & I stayed at the Rain Forest Resort Village just down the road from the more famous Quinault Lodge (where Roosevelt once dined), enjoyed a lake view from our enormous window, and had breakfast omelets in the main lodge's restaurant on chilly mornings. In the evenings we took our time dining on fresh Pacific salmon and watching the sun set Lake Quinault ablaze.

KALALOCH & RUBY

The beaches of the Washington Coast are among the dearest places on Earth to me, and among them, Ruby Beach is king. Its boulders, stacks and scattered driftwood have a sense of balance and depth of which I imagine John Ruskin would be especially appreciative. South of Ruby are a series of expansive, bleached-white beaches that never fail to tickle my negative space fancy.

LA PUSH & CAPE FLATTERY

On the 4th and 5th days of our trip, we headed north of Ruby to the Quileute reservation of La Push, where we climbed its striking, bony pile of driftwood and squinted against the glare of the sun off of James Island. Even farther north we encountered winding mountain-meets-coastline roads leading to Neah Bay (of the Makah people) and then to Cape Flattery, the most northwesterly point of the contiguous United States. Cape Flattery is otherworldly -- it's like something out of Middle Earth, with its feathery, wind-bent trees and mossy islands of all sizes rising from turquoise waters.

TBC in "The Edge of the Earth" part 2

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