About seven years ago my niece Kate came to live with me, and a whole new world of experience opened up for me. I’m a gay man”what the hell did I know about what little girls need? Suddenly I was raising one, and learning how to share my values with a young person who was gradually developing values of her own.

I have to say the early days weren’t difficult. 6-year-old girls seem to be obedient, express pretty simple needs, and haven’t had time to be poisoned (much) by our materialistic culture. I found out early that Kate was a girly-girl, and we went through the Barbie phase, the “everything must be pink” phase, and the early stages of playing with makeup. Despite a few misgivings around gender stereotyping, I was generally a willing partner in providing Kate’s needs and wishes.

Let me assure you things change when a child hits puberty. Suddenly jeans from Sears don’t cut it anymore. Lip gloss is no longer considered makeup. And last year, I learned all about The Purse.

The Purse is a big deal. Unlike men’s wallets, which hide out in a pocket, The Purse is prominently displayed and instantly tells other women all about you. Not just what you can afford, but your style, your self-esteem, basically your whole world view. Among young women in middle school, this is incredibly basic knowledge. I however was deeply ignorant.

Kate had decided a particular Coach purse was The Purse for her. An able Internet user, like her entire generation, she had researched it, priced it, and knew the right color, a two-tone brown/tan thing with a dark brown handle (NOT the sparkly gold handle, that was a totally different thing). And early last fall, she presented her research to me as an urgent need.

“All the girls at my school have Coach!” Really, I said, even here in this rural one-horse town? I thought of Coach as pretty high-end, up there with Hermes and Louis Vuitton, on the arms of bitchy socialites of New York’s Upper East Side. But Kate educated me. “No, the rich girls have the Louis and Dior, but Coach is really middle class and I’m the only one who doesn’t have one. So can I have it for Christmas?”

Suddenly I was in a real dilemma. In the scheme of things, a $140 purse for Christmas is not like going into debt for a ski trip to Aspen. Besides (I didn’t tell Kate) I could use American Express credit card points, saved up carefully all year, for a store voucher. The Purse would effectively be free. But there’s the principle of the thing”I don’t believe in brand names as status symbols, let alone keeping up with the Joneses. I didn’t want Kate to start down that track, either. And where would it lead? If you get The Purse at 12 years old, what do you get at 13? There’s a lot of years (and dollars) between that and graduating from college!

So I did my own research. My Mom, Kate’s grandmother, of course thought it was essential her precious granddaughter fit in with “all the other kids.” My good friend Karen in Seattle, a straight married woman, thought it was a harmless indulgence. My partnered lesbian friends in Maine agreed. “All young women need a good purse!” So clearly the women knew something I did not, and I caved. I carried on with Kate all autumn saying “I don’t know, let’s see, let’s see,” but sure enough, under the Christmas tree was a khaki/dark brown Signature Demi Pouch Coach Purse.

Kate was delighted, but I continued to feel ambivalent. I love delighting my child”I want her to be happy and confident, and to have a few special things in her life. But I’m also very concerned that I’m feeding in to a twisted dynamic in our culture (echoed even by Suze Orman) that self worth = net worth. In the end, I’m wasn’t sure what lesson to take away from the whole experience.

But Kate was. This year, top of her Christmas list, is a $300 pair of sunglasses …