Hello, my name is Nicky and I have a handbag addiction
My proverbial Achilles heel.
A stimulation of the senses.
It’s love at first sight from across the store – I once tripped over in a busy high street shop rushing to pick up the last little grey number on a shelf.
It’s telling myself that I don’t have one in this colour/size/shape/material* (delete as necessary).
It’s telling my long suffering husband that this black clutch is clearly different from my other four black clutches.
It’s the age old talent of buy it, hide it in the wardrobe, take it for its maiden voyage stating “…what, this old thing? I’ve had it ages…”
It’s the exhilaration of planning a whole outfit around a pink, fluffy bowling bag no matter how unsuitable or inappropriate.
It’s the comments from your work mates about more bags than I’ve had hot dinners, or better still them taking bets that I will return to work after a break sporting a new baby.
It’s my husband getting applause for his good taste after my birthday – little do they know we have a system. I put three beauties of my choosing in his online basket and he buys one. That way I get a surprise but it’s definitely one I want!
A handbag is a support system I could never leave home without.
They always fit.
They’re the comfort blanket you take everywhere – filled to the brink with emergency supplies.
They enhance any outfit like a final sprinkling of magic.
They help you through any day like your own personal cheerleader encouraging you from the sidelines.
Ladies, it’s our duty to keep handbag manufacturers worldwide in business. I say if something makes you smile, do (or buy) more of it. Wouldn’t you agree?
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