I had dinner out with two girlfriends plus a friend of one of them, quite a few years ago. Probably just when expensive handbags became a thing. We had two tables of two pushed together, with a banquette facing two chairs. We were also in the corner.
The friend of a friend made a beeline for the banquette next to the wall (so, in the corner, the spot farthest away from waiters/plebs). She had a new Birkin. I was in the spot next to her. She sat down and put her bag next to her. I went to sit down but there wasn’t enough space, so I asked her to move her bag. She refused to put it on the floor or on her feet penguin-style. I don’t think it occurred to her to put it between her and the wall, because then she would have been encroaching on my quarter of the table frontage. No, it had to go on the banquette between us. The tables weren’t wide enough for two people to sit side by side with a Birkin between them (it was a bistro-type place in Paris), so once seated next to her with her bag between us, I had the corner of the table digging into my rib cage.
After looking at her in disbelief for a few seconds, and her spluttering about how expensive the handbag was and she couldn’t risk it getting scratched or dirty, I asked the waiter for a third chair and sat perpendicular to my table. She was so pleased. A spot for her, a spot for her Birkin, and two of her dining companions squished together with their plates and stemware jostling for space. The waiter knew instantly what was going on and he was very accommodating of my requests, and extremely Parisian-style rude to the Birkin owner.
First and last time I saw her. Our mutual friends still stays in touch with her, we’re in our 50s now. I gather she’s still struggling to find a partner. I don’t think it’s bitchy to presume this might be because of her priorities in life, and where she sees herself, her handbags and other people in life’s pecking order.