Wednesday: Prada lizard heels

I know, I know. I just bought a new Louis Vuitton bag. But I’m wondering if I’m missing out on a whole new season’s worth of super-sized bags. Not that the Vuitton is tiny by any means (it is rather flat though). It’s just that I’m the type of girl who likes to have all her stuff with her at all times. I think it started when I was a kid and my mother seemed to have just about everything I ever needed in her handbag: Kleenex, of course, and aspirin and cough drops, but also a nail file, nail clippers, gum, pens (and pencils) and a notepad, a tape measure, a Swiss Army knife, a deck of cards . . . you get the idea. And usually a snack too.

So I have the same primal need to carry a big bag. I just don’t have the frame for it. Did I mention the back pain I get when I carry a big bag? Or even just a stuffed medium-sized bag? Do you know how much junk you can squeeze into the small Celine Boogie bag? (I’m the sort of person who needs a cell phone and a BlackBerry and an actual leather-bound-paper diary. And no, I can never get them all synced up. The story of my life. . .) I carried said Boogie on the plane yesterday and I’m positive that’s what gave me the bad back, not the luggage that I had the nice porter transport for me.

That said, maybe I really do need the new B. Fendi Soft Leather Large Bag — yes, the large one that’s 18 in. by 11.5 in. by 5 in. I’m fairly certain two laptops would fit in there. Or maybe the Marc Jacobs Zipper Diane bag, which measures 15 in. by 11 in. by 4 in. Or the Tods Decoupage Shopping Mediabag (in the linen and green combo), which is a mere 14.5 in. by 7.25 in. by 5 in.

By comparison, my Vuitton Onatah pochette is 14.2 in. by 8.1 in. by .8 in.; like I said, flat. You really can’t fit a bottle of Calamine lotion in a bag that flat. (Seriously, you never know when you might come across some poison ivy.)

Of course, sites like net-a-porter provide a good reality check. Most of the bags can be seen on a mannequin, which I mentally reduce in height by about four inches, and then it’s perfectly clear just how similar to Mary-Kate Olsen I could look with a huge handbag — and honestly, do I really want that? Of course, I don’t have the other accoutrements of bag lady chic. Thank God I don’t have a gazillion dollars! Then I’d really look like a bag lady!

Monday: black Chanel boots

First things first: “Alex” (a.k.a. her alter ego Julie Dam) will be doing a reading of Some Like It Haute in Dallas, at the Borders on Preston @ Royal Lane, on Wednesday at 7 p.m. So stop by if you’re in the area!

And now, back to the regular scheduled programming.

My sister and I aren’t actually twins, but we do have a weird way of gravitating toward the same fashion. Completely independently, we will pick up the same shoes or IM each other the same link to a Missoni sweater from Saks.com. It’s rather uncanny.

So now she’s gone and bought this pair of Louboutin espadrille wedges that I am totally coveting. Now you know my feelings about shoe karma. It’s not morally right to buy a pair of shoes your friend spotted first. (However, if it’s the end of the season and the last pair in your size is 70% off, all bets are off. Who cares at that point if it looks like you’re copying? Not to mention that by then she’s probably lost interest if she hasn’t bought them already.)

But it’s not Last Call so back to my dilemma. One mitigating factor is that we live on opposite coasts. Because if a shoe was bought in Short Hills and she wasn’t there to hear the sound of the credit card being swiped, would it make a sound? There would never really be a problem of waking up one morning, getting dressed and then running into her wearing the same outfit. (I just wouldn’t ever pack them when I went to visit her.)

We’re quite a few years apart in age but as kids we still had to dress alike. Maybe, despite our early years of protesting against our mother’s squashing our fashion individuality, it just stuck. It’s really genius, actually, how distance has allowed us to embrace our fashion twindom. Hey, it’s like we belong to the fashion Justice League: “Fashion Twin powers, activate! Form of… Chanel No. 5! Shape of… crocodile Manolo slingbacks!” We’re here to serve; we’re here to fight crimes against fashion. And here we are in action: “One of us just has to buy that Louis Vuitton bag or it would be a crime!”

Friday: mauve Prada slingbacks

I think I’m in trouble. Remember that woman on Oprah’s debt diet episode who spent all her money on crafts? Well, before I went on vacation in December I spent a few hundred dollars on a bunch of beads — gold vermeil Bali beads, petal pearls, garnets, tourmalines and so on — with the thought that I’d have some downtime during my travels to make some jewelry. So I packed my bag of pliers and three mini plastic tackle boxes of beads and lugged them 8,000 miles to Vietnam and back, and each time I had to repack and check my bags for an internal flight, I cursed my ridiculous underestimation of the combined powers of jetlag, vacation daze and too many tourist activities.

So after my beads racked up some 16,000 miles, they’ve been sitting in my living room in a big clear plastic bin I got from the Container Store. Haven’t used a single briolette, Bali bead or crimp since — not a one!

And that’s not even the trouble I’m talking about. I’ve just found out that one of my cousins owns a bead store. (Both my parents come from huge families — I haven’t met half my relatives, hence my being so late to the party.) And now I’m dreaming up all sorts of bead “needs” that she is all too happy to encourage. Suddenly I have a new co-conspirator, and this one comes with wholesale contacts. It’s like the best and worst thing that could ever happen to me. I’m thisclose to asking her to tell her sister (who’s on vacation in India . . . with some gem-procurement on her itinerary) to buy me some honking huge rubies. For what, I have no idea! It’s like I’m mesmerized by the flash of the gems. I’m starting to make plans to take a one-week intensive course in metalsmithing this summer. Did I mention that I haven’t worn half the stuff I’ve made? Help! I think someone needs to revoke my license to bead!

Wednesday: caramel Louboutin anklestraps

Maybe it’s because Mardi Gras came so late this year that it’s practically spring cleaning time. Or maybe it’s because I never did make a real New Year’s resolution. But the point is, I’m feeling the urge to . . . deprive myself?

Wait, did I just write that? Can I take it back?

Even for us non-Catholics, it’s hard not to get into the spirit of the Lenten season. After let’s see, from Halloween through Thanksgiving, then Christmas and New Year’s and Valentine’s Day, not to mention a long winter — basically every excuse you need to overindulge and be a lump on a log — you can kind of use a purge.

And yet it doesn’t seem natural that you lose some and you don’t get to win any in return. The point of my spring cleanings, anyway, has always been to make room for more stuff. It’s as if the world would be off kilter, the cosmic balance would be lost. There would be a void in the universe that is my closet!

I suppose you could say that saving up all your shopping energy for a whole six weeks makes the post-Lent spree all the more enjoyable, but you know what? I never thought Easter supper was all that. (Besides, I think I really, really need these YSL slingbacks and I need them now.) I say, Pass the ham! And pass my Amex!