|Jane and Boris Birkin taking my bag for a walk.|
I don't want to admit to this, I don't want to portray myself as a total moron but I seem to have a more than healthy curiosity in those over-priced things called 'designer bags'. I don't have one and I doubt I ever will but there is something incredibly seductive about the attention to detail, the quality of the leather and the ability they have to transform a messed up old somebody into a not so messed up mess, simply by dangling a bit of luxe from their arm. But I have a problem. Well, the financial thing obviously, I couldn't just chuck a grand at a bag without feeling the need to say five Hail Mary's and two Our Father' but it is the speed at which most of these bags lose their cool factor, being updated with a new bigger better version only a matter of months after.
I once started a 'bag fund'. I would put a relatively small sum of cash into a pot once a month until I reached my dream bags' target, then off I would skip to a shop with a big name and purchase my bit of candy. The fund lasted six months and although I hadn't slipped in my steady contributions I also wanted to get the floor sorted out in our kitchen, oh and there was the escalating costs of Caspar' nursery fees, the need to change the car to a truck and more stuff, more stuff, more stuff. When did I plan to actually use this bag? On the school run? I'm often cycling a tricycle, piled high with kids arms and legs. On a trip to the park? I wouldn't risk the leaky beakers let alone a leaky pair of trousers that need swapping. Maybe I thought I would use it on all those nights out I go on. But I like staying at home. What was I thinking? Maybe I've just always liked seeing others 'baggin' it' and as I reach for my seasonless yet reliable cotton shopper, home to more crap than a cupboard could hold, I'm free of my designers fear that someone out there is about to bring out the next 'It' bag just after I've parted with my pot of gold or more secretly that I harbour the deluded belief I could have done it better. So thankyou floor, thankyou inflation and thankyou kids. I love my canvas bag and it loves me. (However if anyone happens to have a spare Birkin bag they are looking to donate, I'd happily be its guardian, trike and all.)
|Helena on my trike...|
and not a Birkin in sight.