NOW I’m no designer label snob. I buy £30 jeans and most of my toiletries come from Superdrug.
But there’s one area of life where I cannot live without a little luxury.
Bags . . . carrier bags, that is.
The humble plastic bag seems an unusual status symbol, but I know I’m not the only one who regards it so.
I realised I was a bag snob the other morning as I wrestled a plastic bag from our dispenser to put my butties in for work (all those articles telling me I’ll save thousands of pounds a year by taking my own lunch in have finally got to me).
The first one I pulled out was a Lidl bag.
Of course, like any self-respecting carrier bag snob I put it to one side and fished around for a Tesco one.
“What are you doing?” laughed my boyfriend?
“Getting a better bag, of course,” I replied, confused at his lack of understanding of this social faux-pas.
You see carrier bags are important.
They’re so important they even have their own class system.
At the bottom of the pile there’s the discount supermarket bags; your Lidl, Somerfield and Aldi (and those red and white stripy bags from the market that are so thin they can barely hold a birthday card without the handles snapping).
These can be used for scraping vegetable peelings into and are also appropriate for men/small children to take their lunch to work/school in.
Next rung up are the run-of-the-mill supermarket carriers — Asda, Tesco, Sainsbury’s. They’re a good day-to-day bag and can be seen in public without shame.
Next are those nice strong-handled bags that you keep for special occasions. Next bags, a nice big M&S bag — you get the idea. These are good for showing off to friends by returning something they lent you in one, or taking something back for a refund.
In the ’90s the top of this sub-division was the River Island bag. Remember them? The forest green and maroon vintage kind of design? In my high school you were practically a social outcast if you carried your PE kit in anything else.
Finally, at the top of the tree is the designer bag —the Harrods, Selfridges or Harvey Nichols.
For bonus points, anything from abroad (e.g. a Bloomingdales bag from New York) is even better.
A word of caution, though: if the word “Sale” is displayed, this reduces the bag’s show-off value significantly.
Of course some people aren’t as sad as me.
After our encounter the other morning, my boyfriend picked up the discarded Lidl bag, put his sandwiches and a banana in it and left for work. He couldn't care less if he carries a Harrods bag, or a Kwik Save bag. A bag is just a bag to him.
Of course I’m not complaining — it just means more Sainsbury’s ones for me.
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