Roxanne- My very own giant gobstopper

The palpitations my heart feels as I willingly let myself wander past the section devoted to handbags in the department store are not that of a heart attack but instead a feeling of lust and desire for something so close yet so far out of reach from my longing palms that wish to grasp the soft, smelling leather. Gliding isle by isle my eyes landscape the army of clutches and totes all metaphorically yelling at me to pick them to be my right ‘arm’ man.

It is almost as if I have travelled back in time. Lumbered once again with a huge fringe and missing teeth, I stand in my denim leggings paired with what would now be a revolting crop top and a bum bag buckled around my waist, which secures a Tamogotchi and pogs, I gaze at the mountains of sweets before me in the shop. Then I see it, the mother of all crushing bank balances a Roxanne Mulberry tote, the giant gobstopper of the sweet shop.

An iconic classic perched with its siblings on a polished shelf, Roxanne as her designer has so wisely named, meaning bright star, beams at me with her soft oak coloured leather and gold stud detail, a perfect addition to any outfit.

Picking up my chosen bag, the army surrounding me suddenly silence and the only sound is the pounding of my heart as I wish only to venture a little further from the spot which my body is frozen to place Roxanne on a pedestal, the till. Being the ‘poor’ student that I am reality sets in and she is left waiting to be homed by some lucky soul, probably a spoilt daddy’s girl who can blow £750 as easily as sherbet on a dipstick.

Boasting English luxury with its belt strap buckle, external mulberry rivets, pockets and a suede interior, this bag is undoubtedly an investment worth making. A reasonable size at 34cm wide, probably the length of one of those strawberry shoelaces you could buy and devour for 10p in the good old days before the recession, this bag can fit in all your basic lady needs and more. Let’s face it, we always need more space, for that extra lipstick you want to bring, the two pairs of sunglasses in case you change your mind and the hair products and accessories in preparation for the expected windswept look that British weather regularly throws at us.

Although right now I may not be the proud owner of such a delight, one day I will blow the sherbet off the dipstick and swagger with Roxanne in the crook of my arm. But until then the burning desire I feel is going to have to settle down and pitch a tent because it might be sometime before the swear jar is full or before I even consider saving the student loan I seem to religiously blow in the first week of it landing in my bank account. If for some bewildered reason I haven’t persuaded you and you aren’t swarming Mulberry as we speak I will gladly accept your generous donations for my Roxanne fund, all of course at your loss.