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Working in Style

Death of the Backpack–Or Not?

by Liana Satenstein

February 3, 2025

Is it even possible to get late-onset scoliosis? It sure feels like it, thanks to my work bag. Whenever I leave home to go to the office, my bag weighs my body down as if I have a Quasimodo hunch exclusively wreaking havoc on the right side of my back. And what is even in my bag?

I’ve tried to weigh the contents in my head: a bag of makeup (1.7 pounds, the size of a semi-eaten Heinz plastic bottle of ketchup), my planner (1.5 pounds according to Amazon), a random book (two to three pounds–the latter is about the Soviet-Afghan War, heavy stuff going on there!), and, of course, the most treacherous piece: my MacBook Pro (clocks out to 3.5 pounds). All in all, I’m toting along roughly ten pounds–and the bag weight is not included.
My remedial math skills tell me that I could spread the 10-plus pounds across my back, split 5 pounds each per lateral muscle. That sounds nice, like literally taking a load off. But the even spread of weight also means I’d have to get a backpack. Simple, right? What’s the big deal? Everyone wears a backpack! In fact, too many people in this city–who are not children–haul a backpack. But the sheer concept angers me. Whenever I see a person on the subway who insists on keeping their ganglious sack on during rush hour, I want to rip it off of them. A backpack also reminds me of my young grandmother’s home in her Ukrainian village, burdened by a sack of potatoes on her shoulders. It also reminds me of children! I haven’t worn one since I was in high school. Back then, thanks to late-blooming, my massive backpack was as big as me.
I asked my Malin work friend Kareem Sabri his opinion, since he’s been on a perpetual quest for a briefcase since shirking his backpack. “I feel like it’s juvenile,” he says. “And doesn’t look good over a wool coat.” I understand his qualms. There is something that isn’t quite in sync visually when the straps slide over a professional’s shoulders: a dueling dichotomy of tailored vs. casual. Or sleek vs. bulbous. Maybe adult vs. child. Fellow writer Ella Martin-Gachot of CULTURED told me she doesn’t wear one because it makes her feel like a “turtle.” Fair. They do jut out.
But why is the backpack so childish? So shell-like? I went to the great American fashion tome, aka Vogue, specifically to a piece from the March 1994 issue about luxe backpacks. In the spread, there’s a delicious bubblegum pink Chanel iteration with a gleaming double-C on a long lady wallet-sized, front-facing pocket. Then, a caramel leather Gucci knapsack with a signature bamboo top handle and bamboo toggles. Giorgio Armani even had an embroidered cream version–fit for an uptown gal! Finally, there’s a great quote about actress Lauren Hutton in a tuxedo wearing a backpack made from vibrant Balinese fabric. Talk about an incredible dichotomy!
Then again, this was 1994. No one was carrying around massive Macbook Airs. Is there such a thing as a chic backpack made for the modern woman? I asked my friend Brooke Bobb at Harper’s Bazaar, who swears by her backpack: a chic Prada nylon hauler she got 13 years ago. “I still wear it often,” she tells me. “I use it as a diaper bag and for my laptop.” Suddenly, my back pain didn’t seem like such a bother after all.