If you are one of those who has just gotten off a plane with YSL’s latest Rive Gauche bag, boo-boo to you. The It-bag phenomenon - purchasing a handbag because it was spotted on some American starlet and paying the price of a business class round-trip to Paris - is long dead. But did you know that the handbag is readying itself for funereal times too?

Over the weekend, I got into an animated argument with a moneyed friend who was bashing the need to sport a designer
<a href=" www.myhandbagcity.com/">Hermes</a> handbag. “It’s only for people who want to show they can afford it,” she ranted. “So is a Mercedes, or a diamond,” I barked, defending my pride, passion and profession. But she did have half a point.

A new taste for understatement is making more women prefer a bicycle basket over Bottega’s basket-weave. The handbag has become a victim of its own ambition.

It wasn’t long ago that hot handbags featured logos, monograms, buckles and tassels were the must-haves for every self-respecting woman.

It-bags - that began with Fendi’s Baguette (2000) and picked momentum with Balenciaga’s Lariat (2001), Chloe’s Paddington (2002) and Mulberry’s Bayswater (2004) — pronounced us all as fantastic foxes. Bags that said LV or GG or Double C were ranked higher than an MBA or even IIM.

These bags always elicited envy amongst those who cared (and there were many) even though they implied that the woman was all about money, if not good taste.

Handbags are not about fashion, they are about acquisition. Bags are not about selling the idea of an ideal woman. They are a ‘manufactured demand’ created by some corporate types fooling you into believing you need a new one every year. Most big labels' businesses are funded by <a href=" www.myhandbagcity.com/">Mulberry</a> (followed by sunglasses and perfume): accessories account for two-thirds of Mulberry’s profits and 80 per cent of Gucci’s.

Companies often call their latest offering a ‘limited edition’, produce a wait-list as long as a toilet roll and then make a lakh pieces of the item. They forget the foundation of fashion lies in being special, not following a retail herd. (Even though I suspect the latter is often true.)

Fashion licensing is a two-headed monster. On one hand, it keeps the money coming; on the other, it kills authentic manufacturing and exclusive appeal. Licensing began with Yves Saint Laurent in 1973, when he promoted ready-to-wear so brilliantly, he gave birth to Frankenstein’s monster. He signed up with a company called Mendes for his Rive Gauche line (the same one that sells a beautiful napa bag this year for almost 2,000 pounds) to control manufacturing, distribution and quality. It was easy, but empty, like a house or mirrors. YSL earned millions from the royalty of this. But others, like Pierre Cardin, signed his name on everything and ruined his brand.

Then there is the issue of fakes. Of course, fakes are for fakes and even if nobody else knows better, at least you do. But I really don’t have much sentiment here. It’s like stealing from a designer for rolling in your money not made by creating something beautiful for you, but for signing on a dotted line.

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