Making up for a late Spring...

Maybe it was the late spring - not just at home in the Pacific Northwest, but spring was even later and colder in England. Maybe it was the four years of stifled longing. Whatever it was, a visit to Cath Kidston in London was my downfall. Cath Kidston is largely about florals - so many florals you can actually smell them.

Headbands, boxes, totes, sneakers, hankies, keychains...and purses.

Powder, hand lotion, baskets, baby towels, pillows...and purses.

Oven mitts, dish towels, hankies, sneakers, ribbons, mugs...and purses

Florals with a capital F...pink roses, white roses, red roses, big roses, little roses, little daisies, and to top it all off - polka dots. I'm far from the classic ultra-feminine type of woman (I rather fancy I'm more of the platinum blonds type in the black cocktail dress that catches James Bond's eye) but I do have a fondness for what I consider old-fashioned wallpaper florals.

Lots of prints to choose from.

It wouldn't have been so bad if I had stopped with my splurge in the London shop, but after maintaining my self-control while passing the shop in York no less than a half-dozen times, I lost it in Harrogate. When no one was looking, I snuck off to the Cath Kidston there. It was this shop that started me off in 2009 and this time I left with bags full of bags.

You guessed it...purses.

When I went through customs, the inspector cocked an eye at me as he scanned down my list, "Stationary" (I'm a fool for greeting cards with brilliant art), "Souvenirs" (Just a few Liverpool Football Club keychains and one - just one - mug), "Mustard" (England has such wonderful mustards), "Jewelry" (Just a few cheap pairs of earrings and one gorgeous jet necklace we'll talk about later), "Purses....Purses?". I pointed to the flowered bag hanging so beautifully over my shoulder, smiled sheepishly, and said simply, "Cath Kidston". He nodded solemnly, stamped my papers, and waved me through.

I was a bit disappointed. I had planned to show him the matching wallet.