Mad Carol and the Handbag
"Nice handbag, Brenda," said Mad Carol the hairdresser yesterday. Oh, the stories I could tell you - and probably will - about Mad Carol, who isn't called Carol and isn't really mad, just displays how life can be if you never listen to a word anyone says.
Of course, my name isn't Brenda, either, but Mad Carol has another customer with a similar surname and mixes me up with her and so usually calls me Brenda, except once yesterday when she called me Doris. It worries me that someone thinks that I look like either a Brenda or a Doris, because I don't feel as if I do.
I didn't give the handbag a lot of thought when I lifted it off the rack at the supermarket, except that it was large and had useful pockets and a place to put my mobile and cost fifteen quid which is about right for a handbag in my world.
But later on, an article about designer handbags in The Times yesterday took me into a whole new realm. Designer handbags, apparently, cost hundreds of pounds. For most luxury brands, the profit is between ten and twelve times the cost of making the item. At Louis Vuitton, it's thirteen times. Miuccia Prada, a designer of such things, says, "There is a kind of obsession with bags. It's so easy to make money. The bag is the miracle of the company."
My handbags see life. They follow me everywhere and are dumped in all sorts of places. They're for carrying all sorts of stuff around, the kind of things for when people go "Has anyone got a tissue/comb/pair of scissors/map of Worcester? - Oh, Daphne'll have one in her bag." Then they all laugh indulgently when I have.
But I couldn't stand it if my handbag cost a lot of money. What's the point? If a handbag is too expensive, it's because either you chose it for its beauty - in which case you won't want to use it much in case it gets damaged - or because you want everyone to know that you're rich enough to afford something that other rich people like. Why you should want this, I've never understood, but then perhaps I've never been rich enough.
I've never been poor, either, and I know I'm very lucky. But if ever I were to become really rich - and I can't see it looming on the horizon, I must say - I can never envisage a time when I might buy a handbag costing more than twenty quid. If you understand the Great Designer Handbag Mystery, kindly explain it to me.
Of course, my name isn't Brenda, either, but Mad Carol has another customer with a similar surname and mixes me up with her and so usually calls me Brenda, except once yesterday when she called me Doris. It worries me that someone thinks that I look like either a Brenda or a Doris, because I don't feel as if I do.
I didn't give the handbag a lot of thought when I lifted it off the rack at the supermarket, except that it was large and had useful pockets and a place to put my mobile and cost fifteen quid which is about right for a handbag in my world.
But later on, an article about designer handbags in The Times yesterday took me into a whole new realm. Designer handbags, apparently, cost hundreds of pounds. For most luxury brands, the profit is between ten and twelve times the cost of making the item. At Louis Vuitton, it's thirteen times. Miuccia Prada, a designer of such things, says, "There is a kind of obsession with bags. It's so easy to make money. The bag is the miracle of the company."
My handbags see life. They follow me everywhere and are dumped in all sorts of places. They're for carrying all sorts of stuff around, the kind of things for when people go "Has anyone got a tissue/comb/pair of scissors/map of Worcester? - Oh, Daphne'll have one in her bag." Then they all laugh indulgently when I have.
But I couldn't stand it if my handbag cost a lot of money. What's the point? If a handbag is too expensive, it's because either you chose it for its beauty - in which case you won't want to use it much in case it gets damaged - or because you want everyone to know that you're rich enough to afford something that other rich people like. Why you should want this, I've never understood, but then perhaps I've never been rich enough.
I've never been poor, either, and I know I'm very lucky. But if ever I were to become really rich - and I can't see it looming on the horizon, I must say - I can never envisage a time when I might buy a handbag costing more than twenty quid. If you understand the Great Designer Handbag Mystery, kindly explain it to me.
posted by Daphne at 9:22 pm
1 Comments:
I remember reading an article about David 'Bend It' Beckham when he was introduced to the LA Galaxy fans last month - and how Posh was wearing a pink outfit complete with a special pink ostrich Birkin handbag which supposedly cost £10k.
Now how on earth can THAT ever be justified and even if you say she can afford it, that's not my point. How can a handbag ever be worth £10k ?? Well maybe if there was a cheque for £9985 inside it.
These designers are having a laugh and stupid rich people just throw their money at them.
I don't care if it did cost £10k. I bet she'd still hold up the line in Sainsbury's on a Saturday afternoon
searching in it for her Nectar card !
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