Rose Purple sits between raspberry and heather — a mid violet with enough red in it to feel warm on winter wool and cool on summer linen. I bought it as an experiment and it became the bag I pack when I want a day to feel chosen rather than defaulted into.
Its working proportions are the standard mini ones: nineteen centimetres wide, twelve and a half tall, nine deep. A phone, card case, keys and a lipstick go in easily, and the strap is long enough to cross the body on a bicycle without the bag swinging. The handles are slim enough to grip while holding a coffee in the other hand — the real test of a small bag.
On Clemence the dye reads differently at every angle — soft across the raised pebbles, deeper in the valleys — so the colour is never one flat violet but a field of small variations. The silver hardware reads like pale stitching against it: quiet, precise, and better here than gold, which would ripen the shade toward plum jam.
It is also, measurably, the bag that starts the most conversations per outing. Purple flatters nearly every complexion, so the styling brief is short: wear it with anything that is not trying to compete.
Honest: purple still draws opinions from strangers, and a mid-tone shows its first marks a shade sooner than deep colours do. Neither has stopped me for a moment. It has also become my theatre bag: small enough for a lap, interesting enough for an interval.























































