A rediscovered treasure

I have this bag. I absolutely adore it; it is a postbox red weaved clutch that is too big to actually carry and a pain but I use it anyway. It was my mother’s; one of the many many bags I steal from her extensive collection of gems from the 80s and beyond.

Anyway, about a year and a half ago, I wore it on a night out and an acquaintance of mine approached me and proceeded to ask why I had brought my folder out to a club. Maybe it was because the huge clutch bag phenomenon hadn’t really set off yet but I laughed it off anyway thinking it was hilarious and consequently wacked him over the head with it. Maybe it's a male thing. A friend told me she was once asked by male friend why on earth she was wearing two coats. She was in fact trying to pull off an American Apparel nylon windbreaker under her winter abrigo. She wasn't wearing two, stupid. 

A year passes and the bag (like the majority of the things I own) gets lost in the deep, dark, depths of my wardrobe. Yet after a yearly and natural reshuffle I rediscover it much to my delight. So I rocked it last night to a friend’s fiesta, and someone asked me why I had brought a hot water bottle to a party, above all in Spain. Oh dear.

So if you see me out and about, the huge red thing I am struggling to carry under one arm is most likely to be my bag guys. I don't even use hot water bottles.