Thursday, 3 May 2007

Worth The Wait-ing List

Am I the only woman in the western world who owns just the one handbag? I think mine was fashionable round about 2003, when I bought it. Since then, it has steadily amassed so much crap that I think if I were to decide to clean it out, I would need to enlist the services of Rentokil, just to be on the safe side. Needless to say it is the size of a small suitcase, and weighs as much as my left leg. The muscles I have had to develop in my neck and back in order to keep it on my shoulder, have left me with an uncanny resemblance to Quasimodo. Since I appear to be going deaf as I get older, I may as well just get the eye patch, and then the transformation will be complete.

A friend of mine has several dinky little bags to match her several dinky little outfits. My bag is brown, therefore it already matches all my clothes – although the effect is not quite the same.

I have never quite understood why some people are prepared to go on a waiting list in order to buy a handbag. Is it really that mortifying just to choose a bag that is actually for sale in the shops? Yet again, I am probably missing something here. Whereas waiting lists seem to increase some people’s desire for certain things, I find that they have exactly the opposite effect on me. I remember a time last year when a mother urged me to put my children’s names down on a waiting list at a local tennis club. I knew there were other places they could learn to play tennis, should they wish to do so, so I asked her why I should bother with one where there was a waiting list, of nearly five years (apparently). “It’s for the discos” she hissed, “The social side is very good for teenagers!” What? Sign your children up for a sport which they may not be interested in, just so they can snog the ‘right sort of people’ when they hit the teenage years? Apart from the golf club style snobbery, this plan is so obviously flawed, that I cannot believe all these parents are following it so slavishly. Surely everyone remembers the horror and embarrassment of being asked to “be nice to” the gawky teenage son of their mother’s friend? Just imagine being forced to go to a disco where all the totty had been hand-picked by your mother? I have told H that if I ever try and do that to our kids, then he has full licence to smother me with a pillow. Although maybe I ought to retract that, as he probably doesn’t need much encouragement to wilfully misinterpret the pre-requisites.

I am drinking a Nepenthe Sauvignon Blanc (£7.99 Ocado) which is crisp, but not too sharp, in the way that some sauvignon blanc can be. It is a Drunk Mummy favourite.

I can remember, in the Eighties, there were waiting lists for the cleverly marketed and much-hyped Cloudy Bay Sauvignon Blanc. Unsurprisingly, I was never on such a list, but I do remember being given a glass by someone who had been. With his newly-acquired status as one of the chosen few, he poured it out with the sort of reverence normally reserved for religious rituals. I think I must have failed to give it due veneration (probably necked it too fast) because I was not offered a second glass. I can’t say for sure, but I don’t think I belched.


beta mum said...

My handbag still feels new to me, as I only got it a couple of years ago.
I made sure it wasn't too big so I can't load it up with crap.
That was the main impetus for buying it really. I felt it was the end of the years when I had to carry spare kids' clothes, wet wipes, toys etc. and this new bag was to mark the passing of an era.
Maybe one day I'll get another, even smaller one, when my phone, purse, notebook, pen, sunglasses, tampons and various membership cards can all be accommodated into one chip-and-pin thang.

mutterings and meanderings said...

For many years, I didn't do handbags at all - just stuffed things in my pockets. I have a few bags now, but the work bag just gets more and more things shoved in on top - there is tomato soup (in a tin), lemon tea, keys to work, various receipts, tons of scrunched up carrier bags, pens, tampons etc floating around in there ..

dulwichmum said...

I remember the joys of that Cloudy Bay Sauvignon Blanc! My sister had a bottle she shared with me, if you had belched she would have impaled you on one of her perfect finger nails - she is very cultured. You are a card!

I remember my mother never offering any of her friends' offspring to meet me or my sisters, only to find out that they were completely stunningly gorgous and rich. I still hold a grudge. All that time in my late twenties reading "Women who love too much", "Men are from mars", "I'm Ok, your're Ok" and "The rules" could have been avoided.

Oh dear... but now I am happily married, and sleeping in separate rooms!

Pig in the Kitchen said...

I have regressed as I approach 40 and have bought a Kipling bag complete with fluffy gorilla (please don't de-blogroll me for that sartorial sin). it makes me feel young and funky, when i guess I am saggy and wrinkly. I did see a child at my daughters' school with the same brand. See how young I am? About 8.

Lizzie said...

I usually manage to buy one bag per year, always leather and always brightly coloured. I then take a year to wear it out. Last year's model was a TK Max number in mustard yellow,(big and squashy with studs). The previous year was a small bright green number from Oxfam. Oh I do so try to ring the changes, me. At the forfront of fashion as always. I know how to shop.

Drunk Mummy said...

beta mum - I daresay by the time someone invents the chip and pin gizmo, we won't need the tampons, so - one less thing to worry about.

M&M - do you really carry a can of tomato soup around in your bag? I am hugely impressed.

Dulwich Mum - I think your mum must have been an exception to the rule. I know for certain that you will not make the same mistake with little Freya.

Pig - the gorilla is a good idea for attracting attention away from one's own menopausal facial hair. I must get one.

Hello Lizzie!
I believe that charity shop chic is "bang on trend" as they say. You are a style icon!

mutterings and meanderings said...

Re: the tin of soup. I ate it for my lunch today, although it had been lurking in my bag for about a week and a half beforehand!

Mopsa said...

I have a bag that is much admired by men. Frequently. It is a canvas hunter's bag - with a removable plastic liner inside for the bloodstained rabbit or pheasant that you are meant to keep inside. Til such time as you slap it on the kitchen counter for your wife to pluck, dress and cook. If anyone dares pluck, dress or cook anything in my bag, particularly my wallet, they are for the high jump.

debio said...

Oh Drunk Mummy you make me feel so wanton, guilty and shallow...truly!
I have sooo many handbags - and my objective is never to carry the same one two days running.
When I lived in the UK I used to be on a waiting list for Cloudy Bay - until my estranged husband found a bottle in the fridge on one of his visits and sent me such a vituperative email about my profligacy that I cancelled my 'subscription'.
How sad am I? Please don't answer that!