I lived with a girl in college who was Crazy Rich Asian rich. She always carried this tiny mini-bag style purse whenever we went out. It was elegant, chic, and honestly seemed too small to even hold a phone.
One weekend, I asked if I could borrow it for a concert. She smiled casually and said, “Oh sure, no problem.”
I wore it that night and felt like a different person — confident, stylish, almost glamorous. I thought maybe I could save up and buy one for myself.
Later that week, I searched it online, and my jaw dropped. The bag cost more than an entire semester of my tuition. I sat there staring at the screen, half laughing, half panicking, realizing I had been walking around with something worth more than everything I owned combined.
The next morning, I returned it to her carefully, treating it like glass. When I confessed I hadn’t known its value, she just shrugged and said, “It’s just a bag.” That response stuck with me. To her, it was casual, replaceable, nothing to think twice about.
To me, it was unimaginable luxury. Same object, two completely different worlds of meaning. That moment taught me something I’ve carried far beyond college: value isn’t about the price tag, it’s about perspective.
What feels ordinary to one person can feel extraordinary to another. And true wealth isn’t measured in purses, tuition, or status — it’s in gratitude, in humility, and in understanding that sometimes the simplest things we take for granted are priceless to someone else.
