I love James Bond. Not in a romantic way, mind you, Bond is awful. He's lewd, lecherous, misogynist and violent. He's a bad boyfriend. Like Lenny Henry says, I don't trust James Bond. One date with Bond results a one-night stand at best but probably means losing that cushy job with Spectre.
What is compelling about 007 is the fantasy: visit exotic locations, have cool toys, kick ass, take names, blow stuff up, never get caught. Except maybe for Famke Janssen, Bond Girls never get to do all that.
Why don't women get to be secret agents? What does the quintessential secret agent have to do with handbags?
I've often felt I needed a stealthy little bag. My everyday bag is a smaller Timbuk2 messenger bag in a light blue-grey tweed. The fabric reminds me of a Coco Chanel suit but for special occaisions it is too big, too informal and too heavy.
Whenever I've gone on vacation I've often ended up bringing along a second, evening bag for going out to dinner. The "little black bag" has taken on a number of different shapes over the years, sometimes vintage, sometimes new, sometimes a modified version of an existing bag.Usually they didn't fit in the luggage and had to be carried out special.
This is part of the reason Danielle and I put together the Secret Agents. Small, compact, unobtrusive. The Secret Agent stows away inside the everyday bag and only comes out for her special mission. I just posted this little vintage number in my etsy shop. (Above.)
Our modern version is a little roomier by virtue of being a little less rigid. This gives it literal flexibility as to what can fit inside. Perhaps also a tad less austere than its vintage cousin but the little velvet rose detail gives it a feminine touch.