Designer Bag God Complex

The numerous conversations I’ve had and overheard about designer bags (DBs) have inspired this post.  A lot of wo/men out there have a bad case of what Karma-Style (K-S) has diagnosed as DBGC.

The Definition:

Designer Bag God Complex (DBGC) is a psychological state of mind in which the individual believes he/she is, or is destined to become god-like in the fashion world.  The person generally believes they are better than everyone else.

Overview & Facts:

A  lot of women out there have a bad case of DBGC.  This is an epidemic disease of the mind and body.  It’s all good to buy this season’s Fendi or Balenciaga, but unfortunately there are women (and a few men) who think that by buying DBs they will be worshipped by us all – and thus exalting them to a god-like status.  The media plays a major part in this big con.  Celebrities are walking advertisements as soon as they are seen with the ‘latest’ bag; it becomes a surefire sell-out in stores. 

Buy a bag YOU LIKE and that LOOKS GOOD on you for you.  It can be an unnamed designer; it can cost 30 or 3,000 quid as long as it works for you as an individual who cares!

The Disease:

Very recently I had a conversation, well, it wasn’t really a conversation as this particular woman spoke at me for twenty minutes about her …guess what…Louis Vuitton (LV) bag. I wouldn’t mind if she was just as enthusiastic about ‘a gorgeous bag’ she had bought I would have listened with respect.  She went on to say “You know, you know, people really treat me differently when I’m wearing LV you know, they just do” blah LV blah blah LV blah LV this LV that - in this elevated tone of delusional grandeur. I tell you between the ummms and uh-huhs of my responses. I had to stop myself from cracking up laughing in her face when I realised she was deadly serious about a bag?!? This is what she truly believed.  Diagnosis: a classic, critical case of DBGC.

Symptoms:

If you have any of the symptoms such as; continuous DB name-dropping, delusions of grandeur etc. or notice them in any of your friends; you/they may well be afflicted with DBGC – DO NOT WORRY. There is a cure.  K-S has the remedy.

The Cure/Remedy:

Firstly: take a BIG dose of humble pie, this will help you come back down to earth, then an EQUAL amount of sorting out your head to acknowledge that “the bag doth not maketh the wo/man”.  Finally when you’re next out shopping for a new bag purchase, take a HUGE thought process of quality, style and cost with wearability and add a little longevity before you buy.  Don’t be blind-slighted by the brand name.

Remember to take all of the above remedy every time, in order to make a non-DBGC purchase.  Feel free to email me whenever you feel a slight or major DBGC fever coming on.

 One of my missions is to free all wo/men from this awful disease.  Join us now.

One more thing, there is no excuse on this planet to use a DB for a lack of style.  I don’t care how rich or poor you are.  Make an effort for ‘God’s sake’.

And finally, please don’t buy anything ever because you think it makes you more superior to others - that’s just not cool.

'Malfunction junction'

It was another cool party in London on a perfect summer’s evening. Feeling very chic and relaxed, mingling and chatting away to various friends and strangers as the Champagne and cocktails flowed, admiring the amazing views from the balcony and discussing the owners’ fight to keep developers from building ruthlessly by blocking the views from the beautiful art-deco building we were in.

I hadn’t seen Moya (one of the guests who lived in the building) for ages. In classic tradition we talked our way back into the lounge. She began to tell me about a new play she had written, soon to be produced by Radio 4. We sat down, chuckling childishly as the effects of alcohol set in, at one point trying to remember the name of the very kind warder* in Prisoner Cell block H. Suddenly, without warning I heard and felt the zip of my new “looks extremely expensive but was cheap and cheerful” strapless black jumpsuit come apart at a rapid rate! I felt a definite breeze at my left side. I carried on talking in shock for a minute or so. I looked down and knew I had to act fast, my zip had busted in both directions from the waist outwards to my thigh and bustline! - It was one almighty 'Malfunction Junction' - Oh hell no!!

Moya’s alacrity to tell me all about her play and my eagerness to listen was halted in an instant by my muted, panicked cry for help - “Moy-yaa, my zip’s busted and I’m totally exposed LOOK!!!” - She did, and subtlely shrieked “Ohh myyyy!!” The military operation began in silence; I got up, holding my sides and edged to the bathroom with Moya casually shuffling and shielding me. We locked ourselves away from the other partygoers and began fighting with the zip to get it to the bottom, in order to get it back up to the top! Breaking into sweats and cracking up laughing with each try, I would turn to one side and look completely clothed and normal, then turn to the other and my underwear and body was in full display! We were in a penthouse in Westminster but I swear it wasn’t that kind of party! Even without the Champagne high it would have been just as hilarious. Moya was a star, we worked tirelessly as a team, one of us holding the sides, the other trying to zip up desperate to fix the friggin’ thing, but unfortunately we couldn't…

How could I go out and face all those people! Then I remembered I had packed a cashmere cardigan in my bag. Being a Londoner (and stylist) I’ve learnt to be ready for all types of weather (refer to New Age weather blog – Sept 09). Once on, it camouflaged beautifully - Phew!! I partied on carefully into the early hours.

The moral of this story - with a certain type of outfit be prepared for a ‘Malfunction Junction’ because you never know. 

*Meg Jackson was the warder’s name.