Bag lady

There's a new system driving the fashion industry, based on totes, satchels, slouchy shoppers and chic little clutches. It is called bagonomics and is founded on the principle that the handbag is king. According to baganomics, no other fashion item says more about your taste, personal style or aspirations than a bag, and for that reason it is essential to get your hands on the right one.

So says The Sunday Times' Style Section, which I've been reading while back at the Norfolk branch of Dumpling Towers. This is scary stuff. My bag collection consists entirely of a nylon mini-rucksack (Decathlon, not Prada), a bike bag that clips onto my bike's rear frame, a grimy pink nylon Muji bag, and an assortment of laptop bags bearing the names of various trade shows and CE companies. Instead of standing out as (variously) an independent intellectual feminimst or an eco-warrior or a relatively wealthy fashion-aware celebrity gossip fiend, I must come across as a single, male IT help-desk worker. (Not that there's anything wrong with that, but it's just not me.) I must confess that I've never owned a handbag, could never understand the appeal of something that couldn't take a decent-sized book and Nintendo DS, as well as tissues, "women's products," and an emergency packet of crisps. The thought of spending more than £10 on a bag brings me out in a cold sweat, and I'm certainly not going to ask PJ to splash out on something frivolous that I can't eat or read.

Instead, I will continue to wait slightly shame-facedly by the luggage carousel for my CES 2005 wheelie to appear, while stuffing my sudoku book and passport back into my Nintendo laptop bag. Cheap and practical -- that's me and my bags.