I am wildly covetous. I crave and want expensive and luxurious things. But I never actually buy them for myself – and when birthdays and Christmasses roll around I am too embarrassed by my grasping consumerism to actually ask for the thing that I want. “Anything,” I flap my hands when asked by my husband what I want. “Get my anything. Nothing! I’ve got my health, what more could I ask for?”
Which is crackers because the three really expensive things I own – my Jimmy Choo shoes, my Fendi bag and my Joseph coat – I love exactly in proportion to how much they cost. My Jimmy Choo shoes – studded black courts – I adore them so much that I keep them in their box with their shoe trees in them. When I lift the lid off the box the two or three occasions a year that are special enough to warrant putting them on my heart actually skips a little beat. They are divine. When the kids are bored and try on all my shoes and stagger about the kitchen wearing them, they are the one pair they are absolutely not allowed to touch.
But there is another thing that puts me off buying expensive and covetable things – and that is that they go out of fashion. If I am going to ask for something that costs north of £500 it had better last forEVER. This – and just general Protestant guilt – is what’s putting me off casually (not casually) jotting this Chloe Drew bag down on my Christmas list.
I will love it and care for it like a third child, sure, but will it shortly be as dated as that clunky Mulberry cross body that everyone’s got? Or the Fendi Baguette? Or a Prada nylon shopper? (Though those have gone so far out of fashion they’re back in.)
I know myself too well and I will be too shy to ask for this bag. While it’s pretty and will go with, like, everything – it’s just too much responsibility.