I just got a multiple-exclamation-mark phone call from a girlfriend. “Kris! I have to confess! I don’t know what’s happening to me! I’ve suddenly become a handbag person!”

Now, coming from the artist girlfriend, this is a very serious matter. Over the years she and I have become expert ‘bag shrinks’: analysing people’s personalities according to the bag they carry.

It all started when one day she showed me little squiggles on a music score sheet. I frowned. “You know I can’t read music to save my life,” I said.

“It’s not notes! It’s totes,” she said. I peered closer. Hmm. If I squinted a bit, I could make out little doodles of different kinds of bags: clutch, shoulder, briefcase, holdall, hand, Kelly, pouch, swagger – the whole lot.

“You are what your bag is,” she declared.  She pointed at our bags in the corner of the room, both bulky, overflowing shoulder bags. We are not exactly dainty, heel tottering women who cry damsels-in-distress and carry a full make-up kit in our designer bags. Rather, we are known to fish out plyers from the bottom of our bags.

In fact, let’s stop here and for the purpose of this column, let me empty my shoulder bag and have a look at what’s inside. There’s the wallet, a book, a note pad, a pen, a pencil, a pen, a pen, a pen, yet another pen, a mini notebook, the phone, a packet of tissues, a packet of baby wipes, another packet of tissues, another packet of baby wipes, a plyer (see, I told you), a compact mirror, the Kindle, a USB key, a hair clip, keys, mobile charger, Kindle charger, earbuds, 10 hair ties, a packet of chewing gum, sunglasses, water bottle, a cheque book, assorted energy bar wrappers, earrings which I thought I had lost, too many receipts, ‘to do’ lists and coins. Can you imagine carrying all that weight in a bag on the crook of the arm?  Impossible.

The on-the-shoulder ladies are the multi-taskers: they carry every essential under the sun but are hands-free at all times

My artist friend had been studying this matter for quite some time and came to the conclusion that women who wear their bags on the crook of their arms are definitely much more feminine, less clumsy, more organised and carry way less stuff in their bags.

So we had a giggle as we confirmed her theory by matching the people we know with their bags, and from then on, we went about life subconsciously ticking women into shoulder, hand, clutch, backpack and so on. As someone once said, if socks maketh the man, then the bag maketh the lady.

Then, one Kathlyn Hendricks, a California-based body language oracle, seemed to be all over The Daily Mail, Glamour, Vogue and all the jazz mags telling everyone that the way we carry our bags speaks volumes about the character.

Women who carry their large rectangular Kelly bags in their hands, like a briefcase, are calling attention to the importance of their job and prioritise their career, she said. Those who wear them on the crook of the arm consider themselves modern-day Jackie Onassis and because they are de-operationalising one of their arms in order to carry, they recall the time when women’s packages were carried for them.

The on-the-shoulder ladies are the multi-taskers, according to our guru Kathlyn: they carry every essential under the sun, but are hands-free at all times and are invariably seen rushing around trying to access a particular content of their bags (and failing, may I add) as they run from one task to the next. She also goes about the clutch and the cross body bags and how the carriers are dainty and sensitive and so on.

Can you change the kind of bag you are along the years? I do not know. The truth is that I am no longer a shoulder bag woman. I am a veritable every-type-of-bag lady. I never seem to leave the house without a minimum of 10 bags. Apart from the work bag and the lap top, I usually have a bag with the Daughter’s ballet clothes, another one with the Significant Other’s items, another one with the Significant Boy’s things, and another one with stuff for the Significant Princess (that would be the dog).

I got the confession call from the artist friend, in fact, as I was heaving in a trunk load of bags in the groaning car.

“What do you mean?” I told the artist aghast. “Are you… are you?” I could not finish the sentence.

“Yes, I’ve been carrying bags on the crook of my arm for the past fortnight. I am no longer a shoulder bag lady. I’m quite traumatised,” she whispers.

I hang up. Then I text her: “Are you painting your nails?”

“As if!! That never.”

After a while a text comes in: “Please stop me if I do!”

She’ll have red nails next week, I’m sure.

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Twitter: @KrisChetcuti