Fanny Packs Are Great

If anybody had told me 40 years ago that I would be proudly sporting a fanny pack / bum bag I would have given them a code red.

If anybody had told me 40 years ago that I would be selecting sneakers / trainers based on the pronation or supination of my feet, I would have asked them to stop speaking to me in Latin.

If somebody had told me 40 years ago that leggings will someday come with pockets, I would have accused them of devilry and dashed their absurd hopes to the ground.

And yet here I am. 46 years old, wearing not full Frankenstein orthopedics, but my Asics trainers were most definitely designed for the pronated freak with the giant lollipop big toe. To be fair, I should not be surprised. Amongst the upper echelons of high podiatry, scientists had always conjectured that my oversized big toe with its thick stem would cause me great pain and strife in later life as it did ridicule and abuse during my early years living in Victorian London with John Merrick and pals.

Likewise, I was quick sticks to purchase these new-fangled leggings with pockets. I keep my phone in one pocket which was handy until I got a 4kg Otterbox protector which keeps the iPhone lovely and safe but the weight of it pulls my trousers down on one side. In the other pocket I carry my keys and dog treats in a small plastic box. As a result, my legs, while brimming with convenience, now look like my deformed feet with their misshapen lumps and bulges.

I can list a thousand joys of aging and how one throws off the shackles of high fashion for the joys of practical and comfortable clothing. I did this late into the game. Maybe at around 28 years old. The heels were ditched. Anything non-elastic was donated, and modern fibers were brought in to replace cottons, linens and woolens. I have no time for washing and ironing when I am busy trying to walk on the outside of my foot.

Today I want to focus on fanny packs / bum bags / vag sacks / scrotum totems, whatever your favorite moniker. Once the preserve of the elderly fatty on a cruise ship wearing socks and sandals, swarming Venice for tat and contributing nothing to the local economy, they were rightly ridiculed.

With hindsight though, was it the fanny pack or the clueless blimp to which the poor pack was attached? Given I am now a convert, I am going to go with the former and I can say this because I never wear socks and sandals. Sometimes crocs with sandals but that does not count, and my socks are not white. Because I am a sock racist.

I decided to opt for a fanny pack when Covid hit. Not because I thought a fanny pack would protect me from a deadly respiratory disease but because with everything closed across our county there was nowhere to exercise other than in your home or on your street and let’s face it, I was not going to exercise in my home when I could be watching Netflix.

So, as I did my daily hump up the hilly street on which we live, dropping my keys and phone on a regular basis, I was thinking about my wonderful mother-in-law and on how our last holiday together we discussed her fanny pack at great length. She had a state-of-the-art bum bag. So compact and yet roomy she could even keep a medical kit in there. I announced to my family after that vacation that I would be researching into fanny packs. This was met with great mockery, but I was undeterred.

A brief foray on the world wide web and lo and behold! How the worm had turned these decades past. The dreaded fanny pack was now de rigeur! Gucci had a fanny pack. Burberry had a fanny pack and get this, to make the fanny pack less fanny-y, their models were wearing their fanny packs across their bodies like a chesty-pack. This I could work with. I would wear my fanny pack across my body like a zippy hip cool bicycle courier mowing children down on the Brooklyn Bridge. No shame whatsoever!

But remember, as I slide the slippery slope to a half century even the 19-year-old bicycle courier look has its inconveniences. Firstly, when the chesty-pack is cross body, opening pockets to remove keys or credit cards often results with them landing on the floor. This is due to g-r-a-v-i-t-y. Secondly, while the fanny pack I purchased can fit my iPhone (with 1st layer of Otterbox but not with 2nd Robocop layer), it is tight to extricate it, and on multiple occasions I have hit myself in the face with my phone, before dropping it on the floor. Generally, everything in said fanny pack, ends up on the floor.

So, with a regular look of scorn for where the fanny pack has now ended up on my person, I go for my regular walks with my family like an elderly fatty on a cruise. Everything is horizontal. Nothing falls out. My important possessions are at hand height for easy access and if I am feeling jaunty, I sometimes wear it as a hip pack as opposed to a vag pack.

Some friends wear it as an actual bum bag, as in round the back, which looks great, but I am not so confident to brazenly keep my valuable possessions behind me.

In conclusion, based on a sample of three people, the fanny pack is without a doubt, back in business, a fashion resurrection if you will, and no longer shunned by the young and hip.

Gen X were tipped multiple times in the apocalypse press these five years past to save the world. If we were not so cynical and apathetic, we probably would, but until then we will focus our attention on bringing back progressive and forward-thinking products to help communities. Fanny packs, banana clips and body suits with poppers.

I mean, if the apocalypse does come, I would rather be in a bathroom stall with my head between my legs trying to snap those suckers together or wrangling my fanny pack strap, so it doesn’t keep sliding down. Wouldn’t you?