I can't quite remember the first time I wanted the Louis Vuitton neverfull but I do remember the first time that I shared this desire with someone. A friend at work - a fashionista through and through, she has a Celine bag and loves Isabel Marant sneakers like it's nobody's business, and I don't have many friends I can say that about - I thought she would fuel my obsession even further. Instead, she wrinkled her nose and said words to the effect that the bag was tacky. I was dismayed. I had been obsessing over it for a while now, and once you start obsessing over something you see it everywhere. It seemed like every customer at work for a month had been toting that bag, ever woman in line at Thomas Dux had her groceries flung in there so casually, ever mother at the school I coach debating at was carrying her blackberry and planner in one. I wanted it, in the biggest size, maybe even with a monogram HRY and a navy blue stripe down the middle (why not?). Tacky? Maybe just a little. It's hard to separate Louis Vuitton now from the this and the that. But I've always thought of Louis Vuitton as the glamorous purveyor of travel trunks, of French classicism and things that you keep forever and pass on to your daughters. I spent weeks convincing this friend of mine that, paired with bretons and tapered trousers, with loafers and big sweaters, with pea coats and fine jewellery, this bag would be the ultimate in chic everyday living - the kind of thing you could just throw everything in and head to the beach in a cloud of Byredo Gypsy Water. This was a grown up's bag. Well, V, what do you think? I know that Francesca Burns and me don't exactly have the same style, but you can't deny, this bag has class with a capital C.
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