This week a trip to the Miu Miu concession in Selfridges (purrrrr) revealed that in the whole of London there were only two – TWO! – Miu Miu bags in the style I was after. The husband had agreed to devote the entirety of Saturday 4 April to birthday present shopping (given how much he detests shopping, this is True Love), but when I discovered the scarcity of my lust object (no, not Zac Efron, I’m still on the bag here) I suggested we made the shopping trip rather sooner than planned.
The husband agreed to this readily, but this was because I was proposing spending only two hours after work in retail therapy, instead of half a weekend, and not because he had any intention of buying me a Miu Miu bag. In fact, when I broached the subject of said bag (weeks of dropping hints and leaving large pictures of the bag open on the computer seemed to have had zero effect) he changed the subject to rugby. And when he finally asked me how much the bag cost, and I told him, it looked like the shopping trip was off. But miraculously (actually, it was because I pulled the Emotional Trifecta of 1) Big Eyes, 2) Wobbling Lip and 3) Clothes Removal on him) he agreed to go to Miu Miu in the glorious Westfield shopping centre in West London two days ago.
It’s two weeks until my birthday on 11 April, and, in the spirit of birthday surprises, I think it’s only right that I hold off revealing whether or not the bag was purchased until the day of my birth itself. I will say only this: the Miu Miu shop assistant was so impressed with my technique of selling the bag to the husband (Look! It’s got a shoulder strap AND a handle and you can hold it like this, this or this – it’s basically three bags for the price of one!…Look! How it can liven up any plain outfit – with this bag I need never go clothes shopping again! etc) that he took out his notepad and started scribbling.
I will also say that the husband is many things, but he’s not stupid.
