Owning a rubber chicken purse has a plethora of handy dandy advantages.

1. It brightens up any outfit.
2. It’s waterproof on rainy days and beer proof on rowdy nights.
3. It makes kids smile.
4. People are more likely to trust you.
5. You are automatically a bad bitch, because you have the audacity to wear a rubber chicken purse.
6. It is the perfect conversation starter.

Now, as a disclaimer, I already am a very outgoing person who loves to talk to anyone and everyone, but I can honestly say that bringing my chicken purse on the trip to London made my interactions with locals more frequent and sincere. Instead of being just another American tourist, I was that cool lady with the chicken purse. People would smile at me on the Tube. If something happened to break the ice (like my falling over when the train started and yelling “weeeoo!”), I would have actual conversations with people until one of our stops, which as my professor kindly pointed out, is not what the Brits do and makes us Americans stick out like a sore thumb. Well, when there is a chicken purse involved, the Brits will talk. I think its because it is perceived that a bad person would never have a chicken bag so therefore I must be a good, trustworthy human being. Of course, I like to think of myself as such anyway; it would be intriguing to test this hypothesis by having a rude, unfriendly person carry around a chicken purse for a week.

The most common instance, of course, where the purse would come in handy was at bag checks. I would make the security guards’ day when I would hand them my bag to peer into. I’m sure after a long day of sticking flashlights into plain old purses and backpacks the chicken must have been a nice surprise. Lamentably, the opening into the chicken is rather small which makes it harder to search, but because its a freaking chicken, most of the guards wouldn’t really care too much, and would be having such a grand time asking me where I got the purse and then relaying their chicken stories. Thereafter, they didn’t mind having to put a little more effort into seeing what was inside. Some guards wouldn’t even care, assuming “who would put something dangerous in a rubber chicken?” (Funnily enough, I have, in fact, gotten my chicken searched at TSA for forgetting to take my Swiss army knife out of it, so I guess I have mistakenly carried something dangerous in a rubber chicken.)

The chicken has also made some experiences more meaningful. When I was at an interactive piece in the Tate Modern on immigration and empathy, a little girl ran up to me as I was putting my shoes back on to play with my purse. Her mother, of course, was flustered that her daughter had just run up to a complete stranger to play with her purse. Understandable under normal circumstances; if my bag hadn’t been a chicken I might’ve been worried that the child was going to grab it and run as part of some extravagant pickpocketing scheme. But, all she wanted to do was play with what seemed to her to be a toy. It was actually quite beautiful, the art piece we were admiring, was all about taking action and not being embarrassed to ask and give help, and here was a child who wasn’t old enough to understand what was happening around her, yet this child embodied the artist’s thoughts on human outreach and empathy so well. Her mother and I exchanged polite banter as the child played with the chicken and then we went our separate ways.

At markets, the chicken prompted conversations with vendors as I looked through their collections. It’s great because I find that when you converse with a vendor they’re more likely to strike a deal with you. I approach markets in an odd fashion in which I will only buy something if the overall experience is good. When I shop in this sort of setting, I do so in order to find something to remember the experience by, so why would I want to remember something that wasn’t enjoyable? The chicken purse breaks the ice and helps me communicate with the people behind the stalls more easily. It also gave them the impression that I know what I want and probably wouldn’t be swayed to buy some cheap, touristy trinket. In fact, while I was browsing in Alfie’s Antique Market, I was asked if it was vintage. My response, “It will be one day!” I can’t wait for it to be vintage, what a conversation starter it will be then!