All I need in this life of sin, is me and my Birkin...

The Birkin is the holy grail of handbags.  Handcrafted by master artisans, it is the height of luxury with a hefty price tag and wait list to match.  In my naive youth, I vowed to myself that I would purchase my own on my 30th birthday (black, pebbled grain, silver hardware, 35cm).  I may have even nicknamed my ING savings account "the Birkin fund".  I'm just saying.

So, of course I was drooling a bit when a woman walked on to my subway this morning with a matte crocodile Birkin in black.   The skin was amazing and the texture was perfectly matched through all sections of her bag (no small feat...you get what you pay for).  I saw her buckle her bag up, and caught a flash of the authenticity stamp as she laced her straps through the silver hardware.  I could not believe her next move - she leaned down and rested it on the floor of the subway, in between her feet.  In fact, I was so appalled, I was compelled to take out my phone and snap this picture.  And we all know how I feel about taking pics on the subway.

I would like to just put it out there now, in a couple of years when I finally get my Birkin, I promise that I will never put it down on the subway floor, and definitely not next to a coffee cup that is rolling around with every jerk and move.  If you ever catch me doing that, feel free to snatch it away since it deserves a better home. xx