The sales girl at Chanel took way more pictures of my Jumbo than I did.
Never in my life had I looked at a bag of mine and shrieked in absolute horror. Where do I even begin? I could start with having left my Chanel Jumbo in its Coco Mademoiselle-illustrated dustbag on my soft bedroom stool for over a month (and therefore not realising if this had happened way before today). I could also start with the pile of clean laundry that’s begging to be ironed, sitting on my couch beside my bag, after a weekend of F1 revelry. Or I could just backtrack and talk about the moment I bought it some years ago (oh wait, actually I already did).
But none of that matters now. Not now when I’m taking a quick glance at this treasure and see some glaringly obvious dark blue spots on its otherwise flawless chain strap. I don’t think I’ve ever opened my eyes – and mouth – this wide before, and the last time I held my breath for this long was when we were kids and competing to see who could stay underwater the longest. The fact is this, that my beloved Chanel Jumbo is now completely destroyed.