An old boyfriend of mine had a funny way of judging women. He'd peer into their handbags.

"State of her purse equals state of her bush," he'd singsong.

While he was a total prat, the theory does make sense. If you are anal enough to clean out your bag every day, you're probably organised enough to book monthly Brazilians.

I, personally, have a standing Saturday appointment at the local salon. My handbag, on the other hand, has about seven different kinds of currency knocking about beneath lipstick-kissed Tesco receipts from 2002, half empty cigarette packs, a few magazines, three pairs of sunglasses, a jumper and at least six lighters that I can never find when I need them, so clearly I'm the exception to the rule. Anything to prove that man wrong.

As someone who can rarely be bothered to iron her dress, but makes time for three layers of moisturisation every morning, I'm thrilled with the new site everythingunderthedress.com.