Hence the '55'

Michael Macintyre has this joke where his wife wants to buy a new bag for a night out so she can carry around her essentials in style: the bag she would like is £500. The punch line is that he, being the faithful, devoted husband that he is, would much rather hire someone to walk around behind his wife and carry her stuff for her than buy her this really expensive bag. (Its really pretty funny, you should youtube it).

There’s a couple of bags on net-a-porter.com that I’m rather lusting over at the moment.

O: Pucci’s bean-shaped clutch bag is pretty glam. I don’t think I’d take it on a night out though, I’d just admire it every so often as it would sit on a shelf in my room.

O: Mulberry’s Antony leather cross-body bag. Mmmm, yes please. Thankfully Mother Dearest recently purchased this and I look forward to stealing it when her back is next turned. (Cue evil laugh)

O: THE Valentino Ricamo Shining Flower tote. It’s Valentino people. Valentino!

O: Balmain’s Swaovski clutch. It looks like it would be nice to stroke.

Ok, so maybe that’s more than a couple, but I figured I might have a rich fan out there who might like to buy me one (or more) of the above. Thanks in advanced.

P.S. Found out a fact that I really should have known years ago: Chanel’s famous 2.55 bag was named thus because a) it was being re-launched (hence the ‘2’) and b) it was re-launched in 1955 (hence the ‘55’).

Father would be proud

Last night I sat on my bed and stared blankly at my wardrobe. You’d think that with the amount of time I spent organising it last week that picking out something to wear to hit the local disco on a Thursday night would be easy. Not so much.

A last minute decision to go out meant that I didn’t have all day long to ponder over outfit choices. It meant that I had two whole hours to get dinner, shower, shave my legs, moisturise, tan, try on outfits, do my hair, decide on an outfit, do my make up, organise my bag (total nightmare btw) and practice poses in the mirror.

Miraculously though, I did manage.

I’m pretty awesome that way.

Now, I like to think of myself as a tidy, neat and organised person: although if you were ever to see my bedroom towards the end of term you would disagree. My dad has always enforced the phrase “tidy room, tidy mind” which totally makes sense and when practiced, works. But I feel that I ought to amend it to “tidy bag, tidy life”.

At present, my (sadly wannabe) Marc Jacobs black, quilted Stam bag resembles the inside of a junk shop. It’s a jumble of … stuff. I can’t put a name to half of it: most seems irrelevant, un-necessary and a total hassle to carry around, yet I know that if I was to leave any of it behind I would be lost, helpless and vulnerable.

So, I’ve compiled a check-list of contents. They are in order of priority and bag size (small to big, obvs) and will allow my life to be hassle free. Well, that’s the plan anyway.

O. Keys, purse and phone. Never, ever, ever will I leave the house without these. They are the guardians of my being.

O. Camera, perfume, mirror and lip salve. I like to capture those Kodak moments. I like to smell of Valentino’s Rock and Rose. I like to know how I’m looking. And I like to be kiss ready for when Mike Phillips is around the corner. Because one day he will be.

O. Notebook, pen and diary. For jotting down ideas, thoughts, blog entries, doodles and dates.

O. Chewing gum, hair slides and a comb. Like I said, Mike Phillips will, one day, be around the corner.

P.S. Forgot to mention sunglasses, nail file, nail polish and USB stick. Check, check, check and check.

There you go. Daddy would be proud.