What the wise man didn't forsee was a reprival streak where one could recoup time and opportunities lost; mine so happened to be this week. A hot tip from Irish Tatler about a Pauric Sweeney sample sale came over my desk and low and behold - I actually had some cash in the attic to spare this time. Defying the laws of gravity, time and space continuum et al, I managed to get from Kimmage to Fitzwilliam Square South about five minutes early without my feet actually touching the ground (Dublin Bus beware!) and slapped my name on a metallic snakeskin beauty. When I came back the following day to pay for and collect my winnings, I found two ladies (gasp!) posing with my baby in the mirror! Too late missus - that bad boy is mine! (Mind you I didn't actually say that but my interior monologue can be very dramatic.) I am now the proud owner of a Pauric Sweeney bag. I'd like to thank the universe for rewiring me to the greater sartorial consciousness. Next stop, dinner with Antonio Marras, a wardrobe swap with Anna dello Russo and free shoes for a year from Net-a-Porter.
