If you have a spare $60,000 to spend this holiday season.(Gilt.com)

Gilt Groupe wants you to treat yourself this holiday season. Why bother with Black Friday when you can experience the sensation of being beaten and robbed from the comfort of your own home? Which is ostensibly what you will feel after dropping $59,500 on a vintage Hermès Birkin handbag, in the flash sample sale that will end on Thanksgiving.

It's not as if you should be surprised ... after all, Gilt Groupe's luxury brand has been known to dabble in Jaguar cars that haven't even yet been released to the public for $155,875. They also offer vacation homes and travel packages that cost well beyond the price tag of the bags.

THAT BEING SAID: There is nothing currently listed in Gilt's clothing/accessories department that even comes close to the $59,500 range of that 30cm Bougainvillier Shiny Nilo Crocodile Birkin, which, by the way, is already reserved. So even if you wanted a jaw-droppingly expensive handbag, you couldn't get it.

And even more distressing is the fact that these bags are a steal ... on eBay, a slightly larger version of the Bougainvillier has a starting bid of $74,999, and at a 2010 Christie's auction, smaller versions went for $59,316. Take inflation into consideration, and you actually have a steal!

It's enough to make a gal think she's actually getting bang for her buck ... provided her buck has a very large checking account and is overly doting.

 A violet crocodile Birkin bag sold for $55,726 hours ago, well above its pre-sale estimate, breaking no records, but adding a vivid hue to the collection of one buyer. While not every bag sold, a miel (honey) colored crocodile Birkin went for $59,316 and a matte paille (straw) alligator Birkin was sold at $59,316. A Brighton blue lizard Kelly realized $22,440.

The handbag that sold for the least amount (a measly $1,309) was a box calf Kelly bag in noir - boring old black.

Although Governor Spitzer reportedly paid about $3000 for his Feb. 13^th date, the most expensive Emperor’s Club ladies are paid $5,500, according to the New York Times. I wondered: what would New York women do in a boudoir with Eliot Spitzer for $5,500? Answer: a lot!

“Pee on him, shit on him. He could pee on me but not shit on me—have to draw the line somewhere!” wrote an accomplished graphic designer with two kids, in an email. “Domination fine (I think I would enjoy that, dominating him, I mean)…anal okay (I imagine he’s got a little joe anyway). No hot wax or anything that scars.”

What would she spend the money on? A Birkin or Kelly bag, to be named Eliot; a villa in Positano; or a platinum print at a photo gallery.

“I’d totally have sex with or give a blow job to Spitzer for $5,500,” said a 32-year-old writer. “Hell, probably even for $3000!” Dressing up or dominatrix stuff would also be fine since, as she said, “I love a good outfit!” But anal sex, “which is probably right up there in the top three of what these old white boy freaks want,” would be “a tough sell.”

With the money, said the writer practically, “I’d clear my debt, pay my rent and put the rest away for taxes and savings. Oh, and I’d also go to the dentist. Think about it: One hour and all that would be taken care of!”

Another writer, a politically savvy one in her early thirties, sounded like she was positively fantasizing about the idea of a date-for-hire with Mr. Spitzer. “I would be Joe Bruno,” she instant-messaged “And, like, mocking him, with a strap-on…. I would let him come on my face, I think. He could tie me up. Actually, that would be kind of hot.” I suggested she’d need a safe word. “Troopergate,” she typed. Then she suggested that she would also consider a threesome with Andrew Cuomo.

Not everyone was quite so enthused. A blond woman in her mid-20s, when asked what she’d do with the Governor for $5,500, replied, “probably nothing!” What morals!

Pressed to reconsider, she said that she’d “probably limit my services to striptease, dirty talk, letting him suck on my toes, dressing like a French maid, whipping him. For $10,000 I might consider giving him an erotic massage.” With the spoils, she’d pay retail for a Marc Jacobs bag (“that might be kind of a thrill!”) or book a two-week trip to Fiji, where she’d stay in a beach bungalow and get a massage every day.

A Sarah Lawrence professor in her late 30s had a whole other notion. For $5,500 (and a generous cut of the royalties and movie rights) “I would ghostwrite the inevitable tell-all,” she wrote in an email. “Suggested title: "How I Fell Off My High Horse: [Insert distasteful subtitle having to do with "riding" here.]."

And on what would she blow the cash? Probably a couple of sweaters from Butter on Atlantic Avenue. “But if I were good I'd donate the money to Democratic candidates for state government,” she said. “They are so fucked.”