I was never a Girl Guide. I was always too much of a rebel to enjoy the idea of organised fun. Still, the motto by which generations of Scouts and Guides the world over have lived – Be Prepared – is one that should hold credence for all of us.

My years of experience as a social butterfly have taught me that between work and dinner, drinks and parties, inevitably some sort of ‘emergency’ situation will befall me, causing me to curse the hour I decided not to pack a pair of pumps or spare stockings. In fact, my training for the time of need began at Oxford when, during my uni years, I began to archive a range of fashion-oriented challenges. These varied from returning home in stilettos via the cobbles of the Rad Cam after a particularly wild night to resourcefully holding together an indiscreetly split seam (I won’t say where) using bobby pins.

As a result, I now have a perfectly curated kit of handbag essentials. While some items, like a pashmina (to protect against an icy blast) and back up stockings (to save me from the hooker look), are more discretionary, there are some which I will easily swear by. And, though they may weigh down my bag something terrible, these are the things I cannot bear to leave the house without, if only for peace of mind.

The most loyal member of the collection is the humble nail file. Now this may conjure images of a workshy fashionista, whiling away the day giving herself desktop manicures. Which simply isn’t the case. There’s just nothing more irksome than an incurable chip or hangnail. My personal pet peeve is the feeling of an undetectable jagged nail tip catching on a garment. For this the only remedy is an unassuming emery board. It is fast, efficient and the longest serving member of my handbag survival kit. It even makes it into the scaled-down clutch kit when I have limited capacity during a night out.

Another old-timer is one many of my female (and even some male) friends include in their own sets of essentials: an indispensable pair of plasters. No end of good can come from the relief offered by an adhesive cushion of elastoplast to a nodule of tender skin.

And it must be a pair, for nothing is worse than having blister imbalance – hobble-inducing pain on one foot but not the other.

But, since prevention is better than cure, flats come highly recommended. I very rarely wear flats at work. But I almost always wear them to and from. A swift change in the corridor before entering the office helps me save face, but not before I’ve saved my soles from an hour of standing on a packed tube.

The lifelong trauma of the bobby pin incident has also secured a permanent place for a safety pin. This tiny, unpretentious strip of bent steel holds powers beyond our ken. It’s a master of disguise and it can genuinely be the difference between being well-dressed and being undressed.

Finally, the chalk and cheese of the gang: My Givenchy sunglasses and a stowaway umbrella. #OnlyInBritain. You can blame our unpredictable weather for that partnership. I can’t stand getting the sun in my eyes but I’ve an equal aversion to having a spray of drizzle pepper my sunnies.

So there you have it: a fashionista’s survival kit for all inevitabilities. Add a bar of chocolate to this set and you’ll be prepared for the apocalypse.