BACK in the 1990s, when I was a singleton in our fair capital city, I lived for the Whistles sale as the Bennet sisters lived for balls.

When I wasn't being wistful in Whistles, I was hot-footing it round to H&M or roaming Russell & Bromley. If they asked me, "Would you like the handbag to go with those shoes?" I said yes. I had a chargecard.

Then I met a man who made me cut up my cards and keep spreadsheets and we moved to York. It was a culture shock, I don't mind admitting, and not only because I had to account for my spending. No Whistles. No H&M. No Russell & Bromley. I thought then I had fallen off the edge of Planet Fashion.

It gladdened my poor little purchasing heart when H&M and Zara came to York recently and I am all a-quiver at the news that Whistles is coming to Stonegate. There's been no mention of Russell & Bromley as yet, and the coy hints about Harvey Nicks are most provoking. I'm all for a quality department store. Leeds is a long way to go for lipgloss.

The signs are good. York is apparently "red hot" on the fashion radar these days, with Coast, Morgan and Ted Baker all set to move in. Having said that, I fear they've come too late for me. After entering H&M in a state of breathless excitement, I came to the conclusion that their clothes are now way too young for me.

Actually, I'm surprised that fashion retailers are so confident at the moment. A report out last month stated that the industry was struggling, with traders being forced to discount heavily because consumers are spending less on clothes. Fortunately, accessories have saved the day, with handbags, especially designer ones, being star performers.

I can relate to this, being a handbag queen myself. The legacy of those carefree Russell & Bromley days is - or was - stashed away in my wardrobe, until I hauled them all out and donated a third of them to a charity shop. I had 30 bags, which probably is a little excessive, though nothing on the woman on LK Today who had spent over £20,000 on handbags. And she still wasn't happy.

Now I too am convinced that the Perfect Handbag is still out there, but I'm not prepared to remortgage for a Dior Gaucho or a Mulberry Roxanne - the 'bags du jour' - even if I didn't have a kitchen and a bathroom to refit. Hannibal Lector's taunt about Clarice Starling's 'good bag and cheap shoes' still rankles, but I'm no snob. My "bag du jour" cost £14 and comes from Sainsbury's.

Harry Potter author J K Rowling, who is so wealthy she could afford to buy a dozen Balenciaga classic bags in every colour, has recently inveighed against 'the trade in overpriced handbags', although in her case it's the 'empty-headed, self-obsessed, emaciated clones' that carry them who are her real targets.

Ms Rowling used her website to criticise our "skinny-obsessed world" and said she did not want her own two daughters to grow up feeling that pressure. "I'd rather they were independent, interesting, idealistic, kind, opinionated, original, funny, a thousand things, before 'thin'."

Way to go, Jo. I couldn't agree more. My own daughter is nine this year and gratifyingly unselfconscious about her looks, although I fear this may change if she catches sight of the television advert featuring the little girls who think they're "too ugly" or "too fat" already. There's nothing like putting ideas into kids' heads, is there?

I was watching the television with the mute button on, while talking to my husband on the phone, and was astonished to see it was promoting the "Dove Self-Esteem Fund".

"How can you fund that?" I asked him, conversationally.

"Slip some money to the coolest boys in the class and get them to ask them out," he replied. It was fortunate for him he was out of reach. I told him, in no uncertain terms, that women don't need men to define them. (They don't need expensive handbags, either, although, like chaps, they're useful for carrying things.) Still, Dove's aims - to promote confidence and self-esteem in young women - are laudable, so let's suppose they are serious, and don't just want to sell us firming body lotion, and take the argument further.

As J K Rowling pointed out, the cult of thinness and of conforming is all-pervasive. To get rid of the airbrushed, unrealistic stereotypes you'd need to do away with magazines, have size 16 models, force-feed celebrities and lock up designers until they promised to make clothes for real women.

Oh yes, and you could cut right back on all those fashion chains, too. Once we're properly emancipated, women won't need retail therapy to boost our self-esteem.

I'm not sure where that leaves York. Perhaps we could have boulevards and cafes and galleries and quirky little shops instead to tempt all those interesting, opinionated, original women.