I have jumped on the tiny bag trend and welcomed a microscopic friend into my life. I thought my baby Chanel, Roscoe (yes, that’s his name), would maybe instill some order into my life – encourage/force me into carrying around less unnecessary (but totally necessary) crap with me. Maybe I’d feel free walking the streets of London with only the necessities on me, not weighed down by enough cosmetics to start a small shop and a pair of flip flops incase I decide to go for a pedicure on a whim (what!?).
Baby Chanel Phone Holder
I felt as though by getting a tiny bag I would finally be able to say yes to spontaneous ideas e.g “lets go out!” “I can’t *sad face* I don’t have a clutch and I can’t be arsed to carry this monstrosity around with me”. It’s funny cause tiny bag or not I’m not going out spontaneously, but you get what I mean.
That’s what I thought…well, I was so wrong. It seems as though I need to go into handbag rehab because now I take Roscoe out with his full-size cousins. Roscoe serves as another accessory to my outfit (win) and holds items I use on the regular so I don’t have to rifle through the other bag. Roscoe is a wonderful addition to the bag fam and he gets on so well with all the others, maybe one day I’ll be able to bring myself to take Roscoe out by himself, but I’m not there yet. In denial, obvs.
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