“I used to have hardly anything to eat,” I overhear a woman in her late fifties talking on the phone as she is walking down a busy street in central Zagreb, “but now my life with my husband is pure hell.” I stop to see her better as she is walking away. By all appearances, she is quite well off, at least by Croatian standards. A fake blonde, her hair is on the long and wavy side in accordance with the latest fashion. She is wearing very high heels and a coat that hugs her pudgy body pretty closely. But her handbag attracts most of my attention. Made of red leather, it is huge. In fact, it is one of the largest handbags I have ever seen. But it has a handmade tapestry showing a vase stuffed with all sorts of flowers to its side. The tapestry is framed with two ribbons made of ornate lace—one white and another black. My mouth almost falls open at the brazen kitsch. “Pure hell,” I mumble to myself as I resume my walk. It would be great to overhear the woman’s husband talking on the phone any day soon. But my heart goes to him without any further thought. “Pure hell,” I keep repeating to myself as I speed up on my way.