For years I’ve wanted a don’t-mess-with-me organiser and now, finally, there are justifiable reasons for me to nab myself one of these straight talking Filofax bad-boys. For a start, I’m an adult and that means if I’m to be taken seriously, I need a serious prop.
It’s true, at £50 they’re the epitome of indulgence but every time you touch it, you’ll want to sort your life out that little bit more. When I lay eyes on my current diary, I want to throw it in the bin. It’s not leather – it’s flowery. It’s Paperchase.
Rather pointlessly, I’ve been using said diary [which is so sharp it cuts my fingers to shreds every time I put my hands in my bag] retrospectively, jotting in events and appointments that have already been and gone, rating them with smilies or a to the point ‘crap’ for future reference. What a silly way to use a diary. I’ve lost respect for my Paperchase fatty. I’d never put a smilie in my Filofax.
So, if you’ve become disenchanted with the diaries at Paperchase and W H Smith [Yes, I know, but some people still buy from there] then take a leap of faith. Apparently they last years and you won’t have to wear plasters to use them.
Get yours here