The liberation of a life without bags

Living handbag-free is simpler and lighter than I ever imagined

A few years ago, I made a pretty wild decision. I decided to get rid of something in my life that was dragging me down. Weighing heavily on my shoulders. Cutting into my flesh.

Those aren’t metaphors.

For years and years, I had been hauling around uncomfortable bags, laden with all sorts of ‘just-in-case’ paraphernalia. Inevitably, these were one-strap handbags which were never quite comfortable, no matter how they were positioned. And of course, the nature of their positioning was not up to me – it was dictated by fashion. This season: Cross-body. Next season: Oversized. Two months later: Micro-clutches. And then there are the true ‘hand’ bags – those with short loop handles which can only be carried on the forearm, imposing ridiculous demands on the radius and ulna. Unless you happened to be the Queen or Margaret Thatcher, in which case your handbag was very obviously empty except for an expensive pen and a betting slip.

But of course, we MUST have handbags. At least, we women must have them. There is no way around it, surely? Where would we put all our vital stuff?

There is a TikTok trend where women empty out their handbags and reveal all the wonderful things inside. Naturally this is all meticulously curated, with carefully-chosen ‘random’ items spilling out alongside the brightly branded must-have polyceramide hydrocolloid rejuvenating neck cream (#ad). None of these people seem to own a dozen balled-up snotty tissues and a week-old apple core, so I am not falling for their ruse. 

French sociologist Jean-Claude Kaufmann, for his book Le Sac, un Petit Monde d’Amour (or The Bag, a Small World of Affection), interviewed 75 women about the content of their bags. He noted that women carry many just-in-case items: Headache tablets, two pens (in case one doesn’t work), condoms. “Often, they end up carrying comfort items – such as biscuits, wipes, bottles of water, and tissues – for other people, including their children, their partners, even their work colleagues.”

When I made the audacious move to a handbag-free life, I assumed I would find myself lacking some vital item while I was out and about, and would regret the whole endeavour immediately. A child would need their nose wiped and I wouldn’t have a tissue. I would be at an important meeting and I wouldn’t be able to take any notes. I would suddenly find myself in desperate need of lipstick and I wouldn’t have any.

It turns out that I don’t need any of those things. My phone is my wallet, my diary, my notebook, and my reading book. I don’t wear makeup very often and when I do I certainly never remember to ‘top it up’ during the day.

I have to admit, though, that a bag-free life is only possible when you have pocketed clothing. Gentleman may not be aware of this, but a woman could be fully dressed, including her coat, and not possess a single pocket. Sure, there could be a delicately tailored pocket flap evident right where you would expect a pocket to be, but when you lift it up? Nothing. A cul de sac of neat stitches. A Meckel’s diverticulum of going-nowhere-ness. It is hard to put into words the disappointment induced by the discovery of a false pocket.

Apparently, putting pockets in women’s clothing ‘ruins the line’. It destroys the look. It causes… bulges. And we know that women are only allowed a very distinct range of bulges on their bodies. Christian Dior stated: “Men have pockets to keep things in, women for decoration.”

Pockets became political after the French Revolution, when they flourished in men’s clothing (by 1900, the average number of pockets in a gentleman’s outfit was 15), but were eliminated from the new slender empire-line silhouettes being worn by women. In 1891, the Rational Dress Society called for women to dress for health, which meant getting rid of corsets, wearing loose trousers, and adopting clothing that allowed for movement, especially cycling. The suffragists were accused of using their pockets to “spread sedition”, as they hid their political pamphlets in their outrageous trouser suits.

Nowadays, the likelihood of a woman’s outfit containing pockets remains terrifyingly small. (Unless you happen to be looking in my wardrobe, where the likelihood is close to 100 per cent).

I no longer haul around a satchel of just-in-case items for other people. I swing my unburdened arms and then stick my hands in my pockets.