Bringing Home the Birkin, by Michael Tonello

Reviewed by Lauren Smelcher

You know that old saying, "Everyone has a novel in them"? Well, that's immediately what struck me when I began to read Michael Tonello's Bringing Home the Birkin (Harper Collins). If Tonello can eke out an entire novel about shopping, then yes, everyone has the ability to tell a story.

Real-life reads are a dime a dozen these days, and I'm more than a little fatigued by htem. I was happy to be Almost French with Sarah Turnbull, and I loved Running with Scissors with Augusten Burroughs. But since when did every overseas trip/weight loss story/romantic bust-up/birth of a child become enough to constitute an entire (and generally, badly written) book?

But I digress. My point, obviously, is that I approached Tonello's book with low expectations. I needn't have - despite what I thought was rocky subject matter, the book was well-written, witty and fun. Sure, I wasn't reading Proust, but I didn't sign up for that.

Here's the gist: our protagonist, Michael, is a make-up artist living in Provincetown, on the east coast of America. Seeking a seachange, he heads to Barcelona with promise of temporary work from a friend. The promise falls through and our hero is left considering his (admittedly, very few) options. On a whim, he begins to sell his old clothes on eBay, and unexpectedly keeps himself afloat with the profits. His next step? To create an eBay empire, buying sought-after, wait-listed Hermes merchandise and selling it to impatient women happy to pay the mark-up.

Which brings us to the titular Birkin. The most coveted Birkin item of all, it was named after its co-creator Jane Birkin. Draped over the wrists of Victoria Beckham, Sarah Jessica Parker, Carla Bruni and Kate Moss, prices start at $7500 and can soar as high as $200,000. It's also famous for its reputed two year waiting list - remember when Sex and the City's Samantha used Lucy Liu's name to score a Birkin?

I'll give Tonello credit - to sustain an entire novel about buying and reselling bags must be difficult. The good news is that it doesn't seem like Tonello's trying - the book is filled with genuinely, often surprisingly funny anecdotes about his Birkin adventures. Who knew that you needed a boydguard to transact a bag, or that obscenely wealthy women stockpiled orange Hermes bags like canned peas before a nuclear holocaust? Tonello knows - and more importantly, he tells.

The best thing about the book is that Tonello acts as the outsider looking in - specifically, looking into the lives of the very, very rich. And what's more enticing than that?