I like big bags and I cannot lie. Rummage through my trusty work tote and you’ll find 17 lipsticks, an extension cord, two half-used packets of Strepsils, six crumpled to-do lists, a smattering of foreign currency should I ever find myself in Doha or Denmark, two hairbrushes, and a coiled-up message from a fortune cookie reading, “I cannot help you, for I am just a biscuit.” I’m like a hoarder-meets-prepper-meets-modern-day Mary Poppins—except her boxy floral carpet-bag never bulged at the seams nor collected a filthy lining of crumbs.
But that was my life BC (before Corona). The pandemic shook not just the major underpinnings of our lives, but also the minutia—like our accessories usage. During lockdown, handbags across the globe went into hibernation, their contents out of sight and out of mind. So as I return to the office a few days a week, I’ve decided it’s time to downsize. Dramatically.
Micro-mini bags were the, ahem, biggest thing to come out of Paris last year, with cult label Jacquemus leading the charge. The brand’s itty bitty designs might eschew all notions of practicality, but they’re adorable and put the humour in Haute fashion. “What is this? A bag for ants?!” ponders one viral Derek Zoolander meme. “Tic Tac holder,” proclaims another.
In truth, when my delivery of the Jacquemus Le Mini Chiquito arrives, it barely holds a Tic Tac. In fact, at 5.2cm wide, it’s veritable finger candy. I take my house key off its ring and squeeze it into the bag, along with one lone mint. Then I shove my ID and credit card into my jean pockets, slap on some hand sanitiser, and head out the door.
I feel… like a man. Without a cumbersome carry-all slapping rhythmically against my hipbone, I’m liberated and lighter—2.76 kilograms lighter to be precise (that’s the average weight of a woman’s handbag.)
A diminutive bag also fast-tracks a digital detox, and I leave my phone at home most days. It feels naked but nice, like a sneaky skinny dip on a balmy summer’s night. That said, it’s a little ironic: this bag is social media gold, designed surely for its meme-ability, yet to cart around the phone you need to create said content, you’d better be wearing pockets
I take the bag to meet my friends and they ooh and aah over its cuteness, passing it around the dinner table like a baby. “What shall I name her? Pepita?” I ask. “Petite-a!” a friend chimes in. That’s the thing about an offbeat piece of fashion it’s a fail-safe conversation-starter. Later that night, as I wait to be served at the bar, I feel a set of eyes peering into my side. “That’s a really small bag,” a poloshirted man deadpans. It’s not the most inspiring opening line, and his droopy blue eyes suggest he’s not quite lucid, but I have to smile. It’s the first social interaction I’ve had with a stranger in months.
Going forward, I’ll be upsizing from my sweet Chiquito, but I’ve decided I want a bag that befits the woman I want to be: she who travels light and who lets go of stuff that doesn’t serve her. Or, in the words of the great philosopher Lizzo, who toted a teeny-tiny Maison Valentino purse to this year’s AMAs, a bag “big enough for my fucks to give”.
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