Why Links Trumps Tiffany's In My Book

I walked into the bedroom in a bad mood yesterday, looking for my earrings - and froze.  The bag on the left was sitting on the window seat, along with a card addressed to me.  I rubbed my eyes.  Surely I was dreaming - one of those PMS-induced hallucinations, caused by chocolate cravings and cramps.

I can't remember the first time I fell in love with the iconic Links of London Sweetie bracelet, which is ubiquitous in this city, along with Longchamp Le Pliage handbags - you see, Links and Longchamp are like Coach and Tiffany's to Londoners and for materialistic, shallow women like me, they're possessions to aspire to own.

My dad gave me my first Longchamp foldable bag in periwinkle blue and I used it religiously until the entire lining threatened to rip off and I'd worn holes in the corners.  I then marched myself to John Lewis, bit the bullet, and bought a new one in navy. 

So it was no surprise when I suddenly became fixated on a heavy, sterling silver charm bracelet dangling on the wrist of one woman's flawless, perfectly manicured hand on the tube.  It seemed to me the perfect, classic piece of jewellery - guaranteed to go with every outfit, every occasion (I told you I was shallow).  I had to have it.  And I vowed that in light of my recent promotion, I'd get it for myself.

But I hemmed and hawwed over it a little too long - stared at it on the Links website one too many times, debating whether or not I should buy it - because there it was, sitting in front of me on the windowsill.

Someone beat me to it.

Thank you, John - for five and half fantastic years of putting up with my materialistic shallowness.