If you work in New York City and have a fairly active social life, you have probably at one time or another grappled with the difficult task of carrying around all your shit. On an average day, riding the train to and from work and school and various after-work activities, I’m toting a big wallet, laptop and charger; on a good day I’ve also got my gym clothes, including both sneakers and flip-flops because my feet are NOT rawdogging that communal shower.
These items don’t really cause any strife on their own, but the vessel in which I carry them does: for probably a decade, I’ve had such difficulty finding a bag large enough to carry my laptop but also at least mildly stylish (read: anything that’s not basic) and also affordable. One would think this is an easier task than it actually is, though, because bagmakers apparently believe that working women are objective and sensible and would absolutely love to lug around our necessities in ten-gallon leather carryalls that, were they not manufactured in brown or black, would be one baby away from a diaper bag.
Admittedly, I have fallen for this ruse once or twice; a couple of years ago, I got something from DKNY on sale and convinced myself it wasn’t basic as fuck because it zipped into a neatly folded origami trapezoid, never mind the fact that the trapezoid couldn’t zip if my laptop was actually in it. Plus, I’m not really in the market for the kind of tote that comes embossed with a designer’s name on the side; I still use this bag for practical purposes but I feel staid and conservative carrying it.
There was a dalliance with a Lazy Oaf rucksack, which I loved, but the white canvas got too dirty to carry on; I inherited an old fashioned book bag from a former roommate but I can count on one hand the amount of days I wear clothing that would be beneficially paired with a purse that is brown. Currently, I’m making do with a cute Zara number in yellow, but it’s still on the boring side, and also makes me feel like I should be planning a trip to the Hamptons. And all that’s precisely why I couldn’t get on the Mansur Gavriel train when it left the station; the leather looks buttery but I’m not about to drop six bills on something so deeply obvious.