Nothing very bad could happen to you there. How Holly Golightly feels about Tiffany & Co is exactly how I feel about Chanel. Sure, it's nothing but an expensive delusion (or pretension)- but my theory is that you haven't lived until you splurge on something so obscenely expensive that your hands shake as you're handing over your credit card. Or is that too #sh!tfashiongirlssay to live by?
Diamonds might be forever, but so is the Chanel Boy Bag. A modern and slightly more masculine take on the classic 2.55, it was hard to resist, especially when you're standing inside of the Chanel boutique on Rue Cambon and you're being informed that there is less a handful left in Paris. When luck is on your side, to have arrived within days of the lastest drop at Chanel, who am I to spit in the face of Lady Luck and not purchase Le Boy?
So, the second addition to my Chanel collection has proven so far to be much more versatile than my Jumbo 2.55 in Raspberry (a colour that I still love after all these seasons). The Boy has been something that I've been lusting over since it was first introduced, and to have it in my arms and call it my own? My range of emotions really weren't built for it- because after the euphoria of purchasing it wore off, all that was left was a numbing sense of disbelief. Quite akin to when I saw the Eiffel Tower for the first time or that one time I squeezed into a pair size 24 J Brand jeans (what the hey!).
But once that sense of guilt, disbelief and vague dislocation lifts away; you're still left with the most perfect bag this side of creation. Which really is a win on any day of the week.