…Or its alternative title, Fanny Packs are Cool, You Guys are Just Mean.
High fashion is something I’ve never really understood.
Now, don’t get me wrong. I love cute clothes, dressing to impress, the works. I’m fascinated by the beauty of unique hairstyles and clothes paired with some statement jewelry. In high school, I spent hours poring over outfit combinations, debating on what to wear over the course of the week. Fashion is always crossing boundaries. It’s great, it’s cool. And although I’ve undoubtedly gotten lazier as I’ve advanced in my college career, the appreciation for fashion is still there. Maybe on a good day you’ll catch me in a dress; it’s possible, albeit rare. Legend has it I wore heels to campus once. Once.
But high fashion is an entirely new ballgame. It comes in all kinds of textiles, forms, and materials. Runway models are out here working on their Instagrams wearing clothes made of metal or glass, and the game is forever changed. Duct tape dresses, angel wings, sheer clothes that make it look like you’re wearing nothing at all- and do not get me started on celebrity gala gowns. Lady Gaga once wore a dress made of meat; who does that?
TL;DR, I don’t get it.
There’s a disconnect there for me, a gap I’ve never been able to bridge. When I see sweaters on the runway that look like they were thrown in the wash with six knives and a taser, I mentally clock out (I’m looking at you, Kanye). I’ve given up on trying to look good all the time. Who has the energy, especially when I have seven papers due each week?
So while I may no longer be the most fashion-forward person, I do have one thing to say: fanny packs are revolutionary.
Hear me out.
I was scrolling through my Instagram recently, reminiscing about summertime and study abroad because I’m drowning in assignments. As I reviewed my old posts, I realized something. In almost every photo from my time abroad, my fanny pack made a cameo.
It’s hysterical. Fantastic, even. I had to count them, because I couldn’t believe how many times it snuck into my “Instagram-worthy photos.” The end count?
Twenty-two cameos. My fanny pack snuck into my pictures 22 times, and I either didn’t notice, or didn’t care. All because it was handy and adorable and saved my skin countless times. So if metal and duct tape dresses are high fashion and Instagram-worthy, as we all know they are, then so are fanny packs. Sorry, I don’t make the rules. I just follow them.
Exhibit A: I went to Puerto Rico with my sister, and I broke out the good ol’ pack for old times’ sake.
See it? This one’s an easy one.
Exhibit B: Still Puerto Rico, a little bit more difficult to spot, because it’s almost camouflaged.
Now the game gets a little harder.
Exhibit C: London, England. You sort of have to zoom in.
There she is. She’s beauty, she’s grace, she sits upon my waist.
Exhibit D: Seljalandsfoss, Iceland.
Exhibit E: Budapest, Hungary.
Exhibit F: Prague, Czech Republic.
Don’t worry, you don’t have to search through 22 photos for my fanny pack, I know you’ve had enough by now- but the list goes on and on. And you’d think the presence of the bag would ruin the photo, or just look really dumb, but honestly? It enhances them. Not only is it a fun I-Spy game, but a reminder of my experiences.
That bag contained all of my personal documents: my license, my passport, and every penny to my name was shoved into that little pack on my person. My fanny pack knows more about me than I know myself- it’s where I held my most important possessions and knows what I value in turn. It’s seen all the things I’ve seen, although perhaps from a different perspective- say, the underside of a mattress in Prague- and it made me feel safe. Who says a wardrobe staple can’t be handy as well?
That fanny pack probably saved me from would-be pickpockets, lost documentation, and my own forgetfulness. One too many friends had their phones stolen from their pocket for me to risk not wearing it.
But do I need to explain my reasoning for why I wanted to wear a damn fanny pack? No, I don’t.
“So what?” You may ask. “What’s the point? Did you bring us here just to flex your Instagram photos?”
No, reader. I did not. The point is, no matter what people say about what you wear, or the stigma surrounding a particular article of clothing (Crocs, fanny packs, you know what I’m talking about), it’s important to be you. And yeah, it might sound cheesy and overdone, but it’s the truth, and sometimes you need to be reminded.
It’s a lesson in genuinity. By the end of my study abroad experience, I wore my fanny pack proudly. There’s a deeper meaning here: be yourself, who cares? You are you, and we are adults, and anybody who has time to boo and harass you for your outfit choices, of all things… They’re not people you want to associate with in the first place.
There’s a larger discussion at hand when it comes to passing judgment on people, whether it be about your clothes or more serious issues, such as sexuality, gender identity, race, etc. My intention is not to trivialize these problems by comparing them to clothing choices- but whatever the case, it’s important to remember that this same concept applies to everything: be you.
I know, I spurred you on with promises of fanny pack fantasies, but instead you got a life lesson. The moral of the story? Be yourself, and take pride in it. There’s no one out there like you.
