Shopping Bag Fashion

I never considered myself to be a fashionista, that is, someone who is a follower of fashion. When I worked as a research scientist, I wore practical off-the-rack suits from department stores, and I liked comfortable clothes on weekends. During Hurricane Sandy, when I had to relocate for a few days and stay with family and friends, I bought my first hoodies in local stores, and loved their comfort and softness. These became favorites of mine and I often wear hoodies with sweatpants when I am relaxing around the house.  I suppose these even come in a “high end” variety, but those are not the ones I wear.

So fashion was never something I paid attention to, and since I retired, I am even less interested in following current styles. When I see handbags advertised for over $1,000, I think of what could be done with some of that money—for myself, or as a donation to people in need—while still leaving enough for a nice handbag. I know there are women who change handbags to match their outfits, but I generally buy bags in neutral black or brown colors, and use the same handbag over time, regardless of what I am wearing. This saves me time in having to transfer things between bags, and since I already figured out which compartments to keep and find my necessities—like keys, a Metrocard and iPhone—it just makes life easier.

Why was I so disinterested in fashion? Probably a combination of factors: my parents, who left eastern Europe in the 1920s with no money and worked hard to build a retail clothing business in Brooklyn, taught me not to be wasteful with money. Also, as a self-conscious, self-critical adolescent, I usually didn’t like how I looked when buying new clothes, so I never enjoyed shopping.  When I got older my anti-fashion views were confirmed: after giving birth to two children; I found that in some of the “stylish” stores, 10 was the largest size they carried, and that was no longer for me. And on some rare occasions when I found shops with clothes that I liked in my size, they soon went out of business. So my tendency to not care about fashion continued.

However, there is one item that is often part of my outfit that I am now concerned about, and I think this has something to do with what is known as “social signaling.” This refers to the message that I may be sending about myself by what I wear. I am talking about my choice of shopping bags.

Since the ban on providing plastic bags in supermarkets went into effect in NYC in 2020, I find that I have a large collection of shopping bags, mostly cloth ones. Some were purchased when doing supermarket or other store shopping, others came as “rewards” for subscribing to a periodical or making a contribution to a charity.

Given my desire to reduce waste in the environment, whenever I leave my house I try to remember to take a shopping bag with me, since I often do some household shopping on the way home. In addition, if I have a long ride to where I am going, or anticipate spending time in a waiting room, I use a bag to carry along a magazine or newspaper to read (yes, I still read these items in hard copy).

I find it amusing to decide what shopping bag to take with me when I leave my home.  I have a decision to make. Taking a black cloth “Thank You” bag, with messages of “Have a Nice Day” and a request to “Reduce, Reuse, Recycle” is very practical, and works if I am going directly to and from a supermarket. But it doesn’t seem appropriate if I am going to a museum or meeting a friend at an elegant restaurant. It seems a bit shabby, almost disrespectful. So I search for a bag that would be more appropriate, like my “The New Yorker” bag or “Central Park Conservancy Member” bag. They seem to send a message, respectively, that I read good literature and contribute to commendable causes.

I have a wide variety of bags with signs or logos from the stores where I have shopped. They can announce to the public that I shop at Macy’s or that I like Jewish delis (a “Sarge’s” bag, that lists some of its menu items, like pastrami and blintzes, right on the bag). I have shopping bags that show that I use my local supermarket, the “Morton Williams” bag, that advertises itself as a “Reusable Bag – Reuse up to 125 times.” I often find that the seam of this bag is torn by the second use, and it has to be discarded. I suppose that’s why it says “up to.” These commercial retail bags do not seem appropriate for visits to cultural or elegant locales.

And if I just need a bag to carry something I am reading, like a newspaper that I anticipate finishing before I get home, I often take it in a plain paper shopping bag, so that I can throw everything out once I am done reading. This is satisfying both for having finished reading the paper, as well as being able to toss the paper bag, of which I have more than I will ever need.  

I conclude that total disinterest in fashion is almost impossible. And although I do not ever expect to be known as a bag lady, it is likely I will continue to pay attention to this aspect of the outfits that I wear.