Why I’ll never carry a handbag again
... because in these hi-tech times, says AMANDA CRAIG, there’s a far simpler solution
We all have pivotal moments concerning fashion in our lives — like realising that stiletto heels are never going to feel right, or that patterned fabric makes you look like a sofa.
Mine came three years ago when I gave up my handbags.
People were shocked. To this day, when I walk into a smart restaurant without a lump of leather on my shoulder, I get funny looks. It’s a bit like turning up at a hotel without luggage. It’s almost as if you might be up to no good — even if handbags are the thing every security guard demands to see, just in case you happen to have a bomb in it.
Handbags are supposed to be the essence of femininity, so much so that they are one of the first things daughters enjoy playing with. Growing up, I loved the confident, intelligent women I saw in Thirties films — Katharine Hepburn, Grace Kelly and Ingrid Bergman, whose handbags were a concentration of their stylishness.
and I was lucky enough at one point in my life, when I had a couple of jobs on glossy fashion magazines in my 20s, to have three Mulberry handbags. The combination of working in that world and spotting Mulberry in their earliest years, when they were nothing like as expensive as they are now, made it possible to buy two — the third was a gift from a PR company.
alongside the now-defunct but gloriously supple Italian ones by enny which, with their buttersmooth leather and ingenious zips, were the bag everyone coveted, I also owned a magnificent secondhand black asprey — the kind of thing Mrs Thatcher used to intimidate opponents — with a lock that sounded like the door of a Rolls-Royce.
THESE glossy accessories made me feel well-dressed even in the most tatty clothes. Until one day, I thought: why am I burdening myself like a camel with all kinds of things I don’t need or use?
Why walk everywhere lop-sided, arm clenched, when men don’t ever seem to need this? Why, above all, am I carrying a purse full of change when I live in the age of credit cards? The change was especially stupid, because I often gave small coins to charity — and larger ones can quickly be turned into notes. But what really gave me pause was the advent of contactless cards.
suddenly, I could use my card not just for shopping, but instead of an Oyster card. I could buy tickets online and retrieve them just by putting my card in and tapping out a number on my iPhone.
Furthermore, my iPhone could fit into my pocket. It was not just a portable micro-computer but a torch, camera, map, boarding pass and all the other things that, in another life, I’d had to carry as separate items. I’ve never felt so light and free as the day I left my bags behind.
One of the decisive factors was walking my puppy every day on Hampstead Heath and realising that I only needed dog biscuits and a couple of bags. another was no longer being burdened with my children’s extra equipment for sport, music and art. But mostly, I was just fed up.
at first it felt strange — what to do with one of my arms? Could I stride about without something strapped to my body like a flotation device?
It was such a revolutionary act that my husband, normally an ardent believer in equality, began to mutter about my keeping a roll of money in my back pocket ‘like a builder’.
He decided that, if I was going to take this step I should at least have a card-holder.
a smart, supple black leather one with a flowery silk lining followed. It’s now rather battered but, as well as my cards, it can fit a couple of £20 notes, an aspirin, an eyeliner and a tiny wand of Clinique concealer. That’s all the make-up I need.
Miraculously, the fashion world caught up with me. For this year, what was seen on the london catwalks but beautiful micro-bags and cardholders?
In shades of peacock blue and green, Yves saint laurent and Gucci’s will set you back over £100, but they are a statement accessory, they have a similar impact on your outfit as an oversized necklace.
There’s good stuff on the High street, too. Cath Kidston has some floral designs for just £9. My lovely Mulberry bags, meanwhile, are scattered. One went to my daughter, who thinks I’m mad. One was stolen in a burglary. But one sits in my attic, carefully wrapped . . . just in case I should ever feel like becoming a bag-lady again.
The Lie of The Land by Amanda Craig (Little, Brown, £16.99) is out now.