Like many women, my mum is pretty specific about what makes a good handbag.
Top of the list, soft leather, a decent shoulder strap and a zippy inside pocket to hold her brown envelope of housekeeping money. Fall short of these and expect to be asked if you’ve kept the receipt.
To me, her bags have always felt like some kind of portal. As a child, mum’s stash of handbags was a door into my very own personal land of make believe.
Accessorised by her navy bobble carpet bag I became a doctor curing my teddy of exotic aliments. Unsteady and in a pair of clicky-clacky heels, with the gold chain of her black patent clutch draped over my shoulder, I transformed into an organised teacher of toys, chalking up lists of spellings…
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The Simple Things (Digital) - 1 Issue, March 2022