There isn’t a lot I envy about the lives of the rich and famous … the benefits all seem to come at too high a price. But there are the occasional things, like the exotic holidays (albeit with your cellulite thoroughly documented by sneaking paparazzi), having someone who tidies up after your kids before you sprain an ankle tripping over the Lego-strewn floor (they would probably sell the story of your slothfulness and your children’s unruly behavior), but it’s really the dizzying wardrobes that have me seeing stars; the beautiful, drool-worthy clothes, bags and, Oh. My. God. The. Shoes.