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Nov 07, 2024

Unpacking the messenger bag epidemic on campus – The Miscellany News

By Yaksha Gummadapu Posted on November 6, 2024 in Features Images courtesy of Yaksha Gummadapu The summer before I started elementary school, my mother took me and my sister on my first back-to-school

By Yaksha Gummadapu

Posted on November 6, 2024 in Features

Images courtesy of Yaksha Gummadapu

The summer before I started elementary school, my mother took me and my sister on my first back-to-school shopping trip. I had a pretty clear idea of what I wanted: a 64-crayon box from Crayola, a binder to organize what I imagined would be pages and pages of meticulous notes, a pair of Twinkle Toe shoes that were better than my sister’s and a Hannah Montana messenger school bag. My mother is a reasonable woman. She bought me a 24-set of crayons, two notebooks and the same pair of Twinkle Toes my sister had. But she refused to buy me a messenger bag. She said it would hurt my shoulder, throw off my posture and give me lifelong chronic back pain. I relented and chose a shiny purple “Wizards of Waverly Place” themed backpack instead. I liked Alex Russo better than Hannah anyway. And I am very good at being scarred by traumatizing descriptions of injury.

I carry the supposedly harrowing cons of the messenger bag in my memory to this day. You can imagine my surprise at the end of last semester when I was finishing up a final essay for my Literature of Black Awkwardness class in The Retreat, and I took a people-watching break. Everywhere I looked, there they were: messenger bags resting against the metallic legs of the plastic light blue retreat chairs, thumping against the baggy-pant-clad backs of students walking around and forming the foundation for a stack of books or holding up phones. A shiver ran down my spine. The practical backpack was nowhere to be found. In its place was the much cooler, infamous in the Gummadapu household, Bob Dylan-esque cousin, The Messenger Bag. No one tell my mother.

Once I noticed the shift to messenger bags, I could not unsee it. My Pinterest feed was filled with them, my favorite campus celebrities were wearing them, and even my friends suddenly showed up to our lunch dates tucking their headphones into the signature leathery front pocket of a messenger bag. My trusty black Lululemon backpack, which housed all my protein bar wrappers, Burt’s Bees lip balms and broken bracelets was sticking out like a sore thumb. Not only was it falling apart from the time it served, but it was now lame. Uncool. An indicator of someone who doesn’t get it, “it” being style. My backpack at Vassar College was to messenger bags what jeggings at Goodwill are to Carhartts. When the time came to look for a new school bag, I felt the pressure to consider a bag that would piss off my mother. And it is not because I am not easily influenced. The messenger bags were symbolic of a larger shift in fashion and style that does not speak to me. The shift to blouses on the quad and formal slacks to a 9 a.m. class is embodied by the messenger bag. It reminded me too much of the years I spent stifled by a strict dress code and a school uniform.

I think my messenger-bag-wearing peers are frequently some of the best-dressed people on campus. They remind me of “Dead Poets Society” and “Just Kids.” All good things. I love Patti Smith. But I am not her. I love sleek boots. But every once in a while, my feet need sneakers. For the first time, I feel at odds with fashion on campus. During my first year here, I wrote an article about how the versatility of style at Vassar made me feel like a kid in a candy shop. I can admit that I unabashedly draw on the Vassar student body’s outfits for reference. I wear ballet flats and dresses over pants because of Brewers. But the ubiquitous nature of the messenger bag made me worry about a uniformity in thought that I have been running from, that Vassar was an escape from. My inability to be inspired by an overwhelmingly popular trend on campus is also a jarring experience. Even incoming first-years showed up to their first class armed with a messenger bag full of dreams. So, what does it mean if I cannot get on board with something that everyone seems to love? Something that everyone has co-signed? I think after some careful introspection, I have come to three interconnected conclusions.

I have learned that I can never wear something that I do not find comfortable. I have left that part of me behind in high school. I have decided I can love how something, in this case, messenger bags, looks on someone else and still not want it in my closet. I have realized I will probably never have a cohesive and distinct style. I like too many unrelated pieces. And that is probably why I love playing dress up and noting what other people wear. It is not worth trying to have a singular “brand” for your person when you really are an amalgamation of so many different influences and references from where you have been and where you want to be. The appeal of the messenger bag disappeared from me at a young age, and I fear that even my most severe hallway crushes sporting them cannot resurrect it for me.

For this article, I walked around campus asking people if I could take a picture of their messenger bags. I stopped every three feet to talk to people wearing long floral skirts, blazers and indie-sleeze-era ripped tights. Different people, different aesthetics, but the same joy at showing off their bag for my iPhone camera. And that felt like a warm, comforting hug. Who cares if everyone was wearing the same bag as long as they adored it? All of a sudden, my faith in Brewer style was reinforced. We are still lovers of creativity and individuality; we wear what we love and what works for us. The pillars of what makes this student body my biggest style icons. The messenger bag must truly be special if so many unique but fitted students are drawn to it. I, personally, will sit this one out and adjust the straps on my new brown faux leather backpack, which has a little white bow to mark it as truly mine. But just in case, I want to retain my right to backtrack on all of this! If you see me wearing a messenger bag next month, just know it is because the only thing I believe is constant in fashion is its fluidity (or because it has Hannah Montana plastered over the front).

Images courtesy of Yaksha Gummadapu