Old Bags

Do you think a hand bag snatcher would be more likely to go for a brightly coloured bag in that it would be easier to spot in a crowd and take a good run and grab at, or a more sober coloured one in that it would blend anonymously into the crowd once grabbed? Only I've been thinking about getting buying a new bag, because, as with shoes, I tend to buy one and use it until it falls to pieces. My current one, a snazzy burgundy number, I've had for 5 years, and it's looking decidely tatty. I am reluctant to give it up as it's been with me, man and boy, through a lot of adventures. Luckily, it has never been snatched, mostly I think because any potential snatcher senses they would get a bloomin' good whallop with it if they tried.

But things like pens and loose change are starting to slide through gaps in the seams. Also, the purse I use with it, which is more than 4 years old, also needs replacing because it, too, is falling apart. But I shan't buy a new purse, oh no! I have decided to employ my bright pink Filofax (8 years old) in its full capacity as 'personal organiser' rather than mere 'diary', and the Filofax has a compartment for cards 'n' cash 'n' other pursely accoutrements like stamps, photos, driving licence etc etc.

But the Filofax is half the size again of my adored ex-purse. It makes the seams of my adored tatty bag strain even more. I mean, I'm not a person who crams their bag full of tat, so I don't need one of those hold-all efforts so adored by the celebrity, but I do need something slightly bigger than the 7 X 11 inch space I have at the moment. And it must have only ONE compartment. None of this multi-zipped, multi-pocketed malarkey for me. I know what will happen otherwise. I'll start separating handbag contents into departments in an OCD kind of way. You know, electronic stuff in one part (i.e my phone and camera), being a writer stuff in another (notebook, pen, pencil, novel), beautifying malarkey in another (hairbrush, tissues, lip balm, tissues)...

You see, it could go on forever, and I don't carry half of this stuff around with me now. But if I get a bag with compartments, I will feel obliged to fill them up with stuff like spare specs, spare tights, a sewing kit, a packet of plasters, insect repellent, stray hamsters etc and then I'll develop some hunch-back type shoulder disfigurement from carting unnecessary stuff around with me.

And then I'll forget which compartment contains what because I am so used to chucking stuff into one compartment, and I'll end up with everything crammed into one part and all the other parts empty and then everything will look cock-eyed and I'll get narky because I've got too much stuff in a very small space to root through whilst trying to find my keys. Or something.

You see, it's going wrong already and I haven't even bought a new bag.

Of course, if I was true to my recycling roots, my make-do-and-mend nature, I would be trying to get both bag and purse repaired. Wouldn't I? But can one repair thinned and cracked leather?

I go through this angst every time I am forced to buy new shoes. I have to REALLY like a bag or a pair of shoes before I will commit cash to them. I don't know why. I find it weird when women go on about how many hundreds of pairs of shoes and matching bags they've got. And when little jokes are made about them having to smuggle yet another pair of slingbacks by their hubbies, who then raise their eyes to heaven in an indulgent way as if to say something like 'Her and her shoes and handbags! Bless!'

So, what to do, what to do? I'll probably be indecisive for a long time. Andy will tolerate a couple of shopping trips, during which I will say, 'I quite like that one,' and he'll say, 'How much do you like it? Enough to buy it?' and I'll say, 'I'm not sure; I'll have to think about it for a while,' and then I'll run from the shop like I'm being chased by an angry bear. And after a calming tea and bun, Andy will ask, tentatively, 'So, shall we go back and get that bag?' and I'll say, 'No, I don't think I like it that much after all.' And then, eventually, I'll be forced into a panic purchase and spend the next five years resenting the thing that's hanging from my shoulder, irritating me with its many compartments and stupid additional strap that seems excess to my requirements but I can't get rid of it because it's been welded into a seam with superglue.

Am I bag-phobic, do you think? I mean, I'm not aware of having been trapped in one as a child. I don't think I've ever been involved in any unpleasant bag-related incidents.

I should ask my mum. She'd know.