I have spent the better part of my life marking my birthdays with low key celebrations at home. I was born on my dad’s birthday and so said celebrations were often a joint affair. Since I lost my father almost two years ago, I have basically practiced birthday avoidance. Last year I had our family on a 10 hour flight to Paris on my birthday and this year I had planned on having us all on a flight home from London on August 12. But my husband and two daughters are smarter than me, and they love me too (this makes me the luckiest woman alive), and so they put their collective feet down and insisted this birthday be feted with a proper amount of pomp and circumstance. Instead of flying home, we stayed in London, ate lovely meals at beautiful restaurants, strolled through Hampstead Heath and in the end, they took me to Harrods and coerced me (I’m not very good at spending money on myself) into choosing the clutch of my dreams. This classic monogram Saint Laurent in black grain de poudre textured leather was it. No contest. Then of course I had to parade it around the streets of Chelsea. Best. Birthday. Ever.