Byline: Kayt Turner
THE Laird has a theory about women in film. He claims that every single good film is automatically spoiled by Brass Earrings the arrival of a woman, or rather, the arrival of a love interest. All the best films - Lawrence of Arabia, The Great Escape, The Bridge on the River Kwai - have no women at all.
If our hero has to start taking into account the needs of a bird, he's lost; isn't able to make proper, rational, manly decisions. Instead, he permanently has to rescue some hysterical woman from a situation generally of her own making.
He does have a point. Who hasn't roared at the screen: "Forget about her!" as Superman was diverted from saving the world just so he could rescue Lois Lane from some dodgy fashion choice?
I was thinking about this when we went to see Bourne Free, or whatever it's called, last weekend. As soon as a potential love interest popped up, in the form of Julia Stiles, I thought it was about to get all wet and soppy. But no, she proved herself an ideal companion.
You know how? Her handbag. As they fled the bad guys, she had enough sense to have her laptop secreted away in her Jack Bauer-style bag along with passports, money and, probably, lunch.
She also appeared to have hair dye and a salon stylist hidden away in there, which only goes to prove that it is indeed a girl's bag, and that maybe Jack and his many emulators should rethink that look.
Having seen Mary Poppins as a child, I am convinced that all the answers to life are secreted within a handbag's depths.
Damier canvas BagsMy own bag has everything from the standard lip glosses and hip flasks to a set of small screwdrivers and a tape measure, as well as reflective armbands and a stapler.
I should be able to cope with any eventuality that life throws at me. If not, I will feel like a complete failure.
"What do you mean, you don't have a narrow-gauge spanner in there? We could have saved them all!"
A recent study showed that the average woman's handbag weighs 3-5lbs. I don't know about you, but I'd like to meet that average woman. And ask her just how she copes with life. She's obviously not got a partner: "Could you just take my keys, my wallet, my fags and my lighter so I don't have to spoil the line of my jacket?"
She obviously doesn't have kids: "Mum, do you have something to eat? Mum, I've cut my finger. Mum, what's this thing that I've found in the bucket?"
Maybe this average woman is a Proper Young Lady.
Proper Young Ladies are meant only to carry a change purse with enough money to get home, keys, spare tights and lippy in a small ladylike clutch bag.
My bag contains my life and I couldn't lose anything from my bizarre collection of random objects.
It would be my luxury item on Desert Island Discs. I could rustle up a shelter and raft no problem, using only the hairbands and spare carrier bags and those trusty little screwdrivers.
embroidered patches
My brother, on the other hand, has always said that he would insist upon having Ray Mears as his luxury item.
Now that's someone who definitely wouldn't need a man-bag to cope. Although they're going to feel pretty foolish if they have to staple anything.
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