Somewhere in the midst of summer 2008, I noticed that the bag that I used for my daily parochial travels to work and gym was starting to look a bit tatty. It was a lovely brown satchel that had served me well for almost 3 years, ferrying my sport things with enough space for a book, my home-made breakfast each morning and any other tid-bits and sundry I might need during the day.

I thus started to casually look around for a replacement before the one I had eventually fell off my shoulders in shreds. My shopping process began with window shopping people around me. I consciously became aware of the bags others were slinging around, making the quick mental assessment as to whether they would fit my needs. 

Over a period of several months on the look-out, there was just one bag that had really caught my fancy and would not let go. It a little diddy that belonged to my friend Manfred. He had got it on sale via another mutual friend who worked in the creative innards of Burberry. It was fabulous, a tall bag made of grey tweedy fabric with beautiful clean lines and accessorising strips of black leather. It had the balance of sporty yet creative professional pretensions that I was me at times.

As much as I loved it, I could not bring myself to buy it for two reasons: First was the price. Even with the employee discount it was bought at an astronomical tag in excess of £200. I simply could not justify that. 

More damning however was the fact that it was Burberry. For years, I had been on a crusade against the brand, having had my ‘sensitive as a flower’ style sensibilities bombarded continuously by the awful manifestations of Burberry plaid scarves, underwear, T-shirts, sweaters, jumpers, slippers, swimsuits, tracksuit combinations, more scarves, caps, hats, pajamas, pocket-kerchiefs, watches, bangles, earrings, earmuffs, sunglasses and then more scarves. 

I simply would not, could not buy anything that had any association with it. How would I justify that to friends? How would could I live with myself? How could I turn back? I was more than halfway to Jerusalem!

So I determined to look elsewhere. On a Sunday morning, I met with Edouard to go to the Spitalfield Market for a wonder and catch up, with the specific goal of finding myself a new bag. We walked through the market sharing the latest on failed romances and resolutions for future endeavours whilst I kept an eye out for that piece of magic in the form of a strapped pouch. 

Eventually we made our way to the new part of the Sunday Market on Brick Lane and there, just when Edouard was sharing his strong opinions on those who pursue only black men with certain expectations, I was arrested by my destiny. We were at the stall of Sarwat, an absolutely lovely woman whose origins seemed East African with that bohemian essence I adore. Around her were the bags she makes herself. She was there with her partner, she the creative, he the business one.  

I love the collection. I will not say more about the purchase experience except that after a bit of oohing and aahing, and trying of this one and that, I chose the one that had caught my eye initially and I left thoroughly happy, having wrangled a small discount.

Now more about my experience with my suede Harvey bag. First off, people love it. A compliment that has characterised it tucked under my arm has been, ‘I love your man-bag’. In these comments I hear the envy glazed over with slight mockery.

In my opinion it is a great bag. First off It looks great. There is also certain unique but simple feature that might not connect with everyone but which I however think is genius. There is a pair of un-adjustable straps which protrude from an opening at the top of the bag above the flap. One friend thought this was not so smart because it is an easy target for pickpockets and rain would it in. Furthermore you cannot quickly get to things inside the bag without having to get the straps out of the way. 

What she did not know is that the un-adjustable top strap is designed so that the bag has to be carried tucked under your arm so no rain would get in. Also you because of the opening you are able to get to everything inside without opening the back at all. That opening is perfect for quickly putting away a book when I get ready to get off the bus or get out my keys from the zipped pocket inside.

The bag is big enough to carry all that I need during the day, gym clothes, book, notebook, lap-top at times and everything else. 

I highly recommend their stuff. 

where to find them

Sarwat is absolutely delightful. You will find her and her partner at a stall at the Sunday Upmarket on Brick Lane, London on Sundays.