I use to date a guy named Raoul, although he spelled it Raul. It was one of those romances that you like him WAY more than he likes you. We actually had a lot of fun, I don't know what his problem was since I'm awesome.
My mom of course was convinced we would have babies, and he would run off back to his country with them [I think she had just seen some movie of the week] I tried to tell her, he's from South America not the Middle East as her movie was set. I honestly think she thought the continents were one in the same.
What does this have to do with the clothing here? Absolutely nothing. The line is called Raoul though and it made me start to think about Raul and his Mr. Big ways. What can I say? I was post-divorce and retarded.
So here's to handbags and South America men and how I made out WAY better in the end.