Long ago and far away, I lived on the Left Bank in Paris. I was slim, chic and charming. Oh yeah, I had a husband obsessively writing a book about Hemingway, two very small boys underfoot, and a surly neighbor downstairs (aka Mr. Grognon). I learned to insult French taxi drivers(they're OCD about their Mercedes rides) and navigate the social nuances of park playgrounds. At some point in this Gallic wonderland, I celebrated my birthday with an impulse purchase of a "herbag" from Hermes. It's like their version of the Pappagallo bag in the 70s.
The purse came with 2 covers, but to buy more you basically have to buy a whole new purse. And Hermes isn't exactly pushing this item. Sooooo, I saw this groovy wood grain oilcloth fabric at Craftorama and the lightbulb went off.
Oh man, I am so going to pimp this bag.