in memory of: my emotional support tote bag
also known as: things i lost (and what i learned in the process)
fair warning: this one’s heavy on the footnotes!
earlier this year, there was a trend going around on TikTok about showing off things you’ve owned the longest. as you might know by now, i have plenty of CDs, clothes, photos, and trinkets that have survived different moods, phases, identities, and moves. there’s just one item i wish i still had.
at the time of publication, i’ve misplaced a tote bag i’ve had since i was an adolescent and i’m slightly in shambles about it. it’s been a long time since i lost something i truly cherished. as a bag lady, i’m still trying to accept that it’s possibly gone forever.1
the bag was by the defunct brand Loop NYC, and i purchased it at Journeys after coveting it on a few subsequent mall visits in the late aughties. the tote bag had a colorful, all-over print full of trippy, cartoonish characters that evoke intrigue, humor, and playfulness. Loop NYC (also branded as Parcel and Transversion) was known for making quirky bags shaped like boomboxes, guitars, and boxing gloves (among other things). they had notable collabs featuring artwork from Disney and Andy Warhol (if you look on eBay or any other resale site, that’s their prevailing legacy).
one of my favorite features of the canvas bag i owned was how it zipped into itself, making it easy to bring on shopping trips and vacations alike.2 it couldn’t have cost more than $20-$25 at the time, but its value was multiplied by the extended wear i got out of it.
i only noticed it was lost when i was preparing to store the bag in my backpack for an errand run and realized it was nowhere in sight. i rummaged through nearly every other bag and container i’ve used in recent memory with no luck. it’s so vibrant, you can’t miss it.
nearly a year later, it feels like the bag has gone on to live its best all-purpose life without me. i’m just wondering when, where, and why did it go?3 i might have lost it while grocery shopping — amidst my bag of reusable bags (like, really? it had to be this one and not the kimchi-stained Instacart bag?) admittedly, it’s not hard for me to get anxious and overwhelmed at checkout — which is a prime opportunity to momentarily lose sight of your surroundings.
sure, it’s just a bag. but when you 1) have been diagnosed with OCD4 and 2) value the sentimentality & sustainability of using something for years, losing that item can be a bit emotionally devastating. especially when OCD often prompts you to mentally map where your things are so you feel safe and maintain a sense of “control”.5 like, i have so many photos with the bag because it went nearly everywhere with me.
in reflection, the sadness is not about the item alone. it’s about accepting the ending of a chapter and reliving the memories associated with it. this bag was one of the first items i purchased for myself that helped me identify my taste for eclectic, maximalist fashion. it became a major component of my personal style.
for reference, i like things that are:
colorful
subversive
psychedelic
kitschy
eye-catching
bonus points if it’s modular, utilitarian, grungy, and/or free size!
and while my sense of style has evolved with age, the yearning for bold colors, patterns, and multipurpose fashion remains.
sometimes, you have to ask yourself: where does a collection end, and when does the risk of hoarding begin? since childhood, i’ve been accustomed to holding onto certain possessions because i don’t know when or if i’ll ever need it.6 for people who think like me, everything has the possibility of becoming the most important thing you own.
as i get older and heal past conditioning, i work on releasing things lovingly when they expire (be it a friendship or a jacket beyond mending). i just had not consciously chosen to let this bag go, so the attachment is lingering.
i also realize now that i’ve been subconsciously attached to a self-righteous concept of having something forever.7 i’ve been preoccupied with what stories that type of persistence, longevity, and commitment tell about me. there’s obviously nothing wrong with collecting things; for one, that’s the whole purpose of this newsletter. two, so much of history is a recovery of archives and artifacts from the people who lived before us.
moreover, owning and wearing things from your preceding personal eras is like being a walking time capsule. brands die and trends fade, but your connection to that time remains.
however, the other side of collecting things is an underlying acknowledgment that they don’t always last forever. i’m also thinking about how capitalism has made us attach our identities to the things we buy (and how a sense of scarcity is created as a result). still: as a sustainable consumer, my preference is typically to reuse something until i can’t anymore.8 while i appreciate the novelty of shiny new things like most people, i tend to prefer things that are lived in and tell a story. it often comes down to a battle of fighting against compulsions.
ultimately, i am more than the material goods i collect. my style philosophy is innate and it’s rooted in something beyond that bag. plus, if you’ve followed this newsletter long enough, i’ve already shown that i can hold onto things for a while. and it’s not a competition, so who am i trying to prove something to? the tote itself even says, “don’t sweat it.” still, i’ve been doing exactly that. the irony.
if i knew precisely when i lost the bag, i’d probably be able to get over it sooner. but alas, it took me quite some time to even realize it was gone. now, it’s just about accepting what is and isn’t within my control at this given time. i also just want to know which artist designed the characters on the bag, but there’s hardly any available information about the brand or this specific collection from what i could find.9
me and this bag, we had a good run from coast to coast. it’s very likely that’s over. yet, if it turns up somewhere, i will be unapologetically happy about it.10 because i feel like we still had more adventures together, and they just don’t make bags quite like this anymore.11
i explained some of my lore related to the song “Bag Lady” in an earlier newsletter.
modular clothing is somewhat akin to a party trick for me, like when someone compliments your dress and you cheekily say, “thanks, it has pockets!”
in an alternate timeline, there’s a version of me wondering where the bag came from.
one way this often manifests is in pattern recognition and repetition. my proclivity towards repetition is woven into this newsletter’s framework (such as: posting at times that correspond with repeating angel numbers and the alliteration used in the titles of my monthly playlist series).
this may not be a universal experience, but my flavor of OCD is like this. i guess my anxiety to leave the store overrode my need to check for my belongings. either that or i was way too [redacted] to be in the grocery store. could be a mix of both. maybe it’s just sitting in a doom bag somewhere that i didn’t consider looking in.
coupled with the thought that “somebody could use it”, if not me.
i think the accessories i’ve had the longest are a pair of earrings that my mom bought me from Piercing Pagoda when i was around 9. they’re the same ones she reminded me not to lose because i’d come home from school too many times with just one earring on. for about the last 3 years or so, i’ve rarely taken them out of my second lobe piercings.
(because i probably already have a version of it in a closet somewhere, *just in case*). also, “reduce, reuse, recycle” worked on me.
if you can ID the artist, hit my line! i‘ve also considered commissioning someone to make something similar, but even more personalized.
yes, i am subconsciously manifesting that it finds its way back to me through this newsletter (or that i find something even better). just maybe someone else will donate theirs to the next thrift store i go to. one can only dream 😩
nothing will quite replace the Loop NYC bag’s character, but the archivist in me went on Poshmark and bought a different reusable bag from the same company as an homage. this “new” one has zipper pouches on the front that are shaped like Pac-Man.
First—so sorry for your loss! Seriously. I totally get it! But also thank you for this beautiful post! I hope you bag find it’s way back to you, but yes, sounds (and looks) like it was an awesome run!!! ✨
I love how much meaning you brought out of a lost bag! I am like this with my clothes. Sometimes I'll see a photo of myself with a shirt I've lost, probably forgotten at the laundromat. In a way it does feel like a little piece of myself I'm missing. I also don't think this treatment of our belongings should be pathologized. Living in a throw away culture, it is admirable to have reverence for your belongings.