When The Boss (his lovely wife) came home with the perfect nappy bag, what Frazer had in mind wasn’t quite the luxurious Balenciaga he was greeted with – not really the man bag he was hoping for.
It was nothing short of an epiphany. More. The triumphalism and excitement in my wife’s voice was tangible. ‘I’ve found the PERFECT nappy bag!’ Suffice to say I was delighted at the prospect, especially from one as well versed in locating and buying small-scale receptacles as my better half. My surprise, then, was tangible when greeted by the slouchy black leather Balenciaga wonder (the Hobo, I believe, although it’s certainly not the littlest).
A handsome, eminently practical and highly desirable bag none the less, but maybe not the perfect bag for the Dad about town (not my town at least). As is, though, the line between enlightened and emasculated, blurred from years of couple-dome and marriage, meant that the Balenciaga stayed. Indeed, it has proved an asset save, arguably for the fact that it has, apart from a tiny key/ handbag pouch, one voluminous chasm of a compartment which makes finding anything close to an impossibility, especially at pace.
That said, there are specific benefits- the epic weight renders the gym unnecessary, while said scale and weight can always throw up pleasant surprises, such as when my better half incredulously located a bottle of champagne some days after it had been placed in the bag, like a rabbit from a hat. Indeed, it seems that there is a gent’s version now, although to the untrained eye such as mine it bears an uncanny resemblance to the ladies’ number, sans tassles.
The good news is that a new baby means new bag; I am led to believe that this proverb is ancient wisdom passed down through the ages. Therefore, an addition to the slouchy, tassled Balenciaga number was a necessity prior to the arrival of Tallulah, fondly known in our household as the baby criminal. This was my chance to shine. Provided, that is, that I fancied carrying a Louis Vuitton ‘Neverful’ shopper on my travels with the youths.
I have seen a particularly fabulous gent fully rocking one recently in London but, bluntly, I am not that fab. For gents, the bottom of the buggy, the odd cloth tote for nursery kit, pockets and general pervasive confusion may well be the best way to go, although I perpetually flirt with a Mulberry, theoretically settle for a Barbour and have developed an irrational like of the tote bag in a day-to-day manner. Meantime, there may well be a battle between my wife and the good people at Louis Vuitton to check the veracity of the Neverful monicker- sorry Louis, but I know who my money’s on……