OH mid-December, time of Christmas shopping panic when, inevitably, you feel bad about “only” giving your mum that carefully-sourced vintage cape with original embellishments still intact and decide you need to add some novelty socks and a cellophane “gift box” of soaps you know, in your heart of hearts, will remain on the bathroom windowsill until March 2015, at which point it will be regifted to a distant cousin who was unexpectedly in the area on their birthday. I’m not, as it happens, going to give you tips on how to avoid last-minute shopping disasters right now (well, maybe one: do try not to get drunk if you can help it). Instead I’m going to address a more cumbersome problem – the shopping bag. Don’t get me wrong, there can be nothing more fabulous than tripping down a frost city centre street, arms bedecked with rope and paper beauties from Harvey Nicks, Selfridges and Boodles… but let’s face it, most of us are not a Delevigne and our bags are more likely to be plastic h...