Apparently, this started 5,000 years ago. Ish. There are a few references as to the actual origin of the bumbag, and it was around this time they actually had practicality. A pouch was used for tools such as scrapers and drills long before adorning the man who monetised grunting – Tim Allen. Fast forward and we have the next wave of bumbags as a thing, without the practicality, of course. Then again, probably the only habit that history has is that it repeats itself, and so fanny packs are back.
It was about a month ago that this was unfortunately brought to my attention when I was wandering around Enmore and Newtown doing my best impression of someone trying to procrastinate. I passed two separate women and couldn’t help but notice the accessory they were both bearing. It was the bumbag, god dammit. I immediately thought – what a drag. But then I learned that this has been going on for quite some time.
Anna McLeod writing for Grazia back in 2016 was just as perplexed as I was when she saw a fanny pack trudging down the catwalk with Bella Hadid strapped to it. McLeod wrote she was startled to see the bumbag being handed out to VIP guests at Australian fashion week. The earliest memory she recalls of a bumbag, much aligned with most of us it seems, was that of her old man punching about with a leather black over his shoulder that he referred to as his “man bag”. Let’s not get started on them, eh?
It could have been a fashion hiccup. A stutter even, but no, it got momentum. As it sometimes is with bad ideas in fashion, it didn’t take long to go from the catwalk to the streets. The Fashion Journal website reminds us that “in case you hadn’t already noticed, the bumbag is no longer a distant 90s memory”. It then goes on to display a selection of very bad ideas. It seems they’re hanging around like Brexit, climate change, Melbourne Storm fans and Bondi anything.
I had to give it a go – can’t knock something before you try it. Given that I saw no one on the street berating people for wearing one, I got myself a ket bag (not a bag for ketamine – refer to Wikipedia). I got a leopard-print number and went out and about on King Street. It was just in time for the Stained Daisies gig at Waywards about a month ago. It won mixed reactions. I can’t pin down who said what but it varied from “cuuute” to “the fuck, brah?”. The Gardens boys (supporting the Daisies that night) were particularly delighted with it. Marky made a point of giving my bag a stroke every time they were walking past. That was nice.
One outing with the bag was enough. Not happy with the mixed feedback and needing further content I turned to my fellow nurses for insight and struck gold. The question was simple: bumbags?
“Hell, no,” Tilda said, shooting me a glance that could cut corn. I felt it best not to pursue the issue any further. Granted, it was three in the morning on night shift and no one is their best selves that time of day unless on the dancefloor at the Sly Fox on any given Sunday. Courto was so disgusted with my inquiry that his reply is simply not appropriate to repeat.
“Why is the Fi02 set to 31%?” asked El. Because it’s the most appropriate setting for my patient, sister, but that wasn’t the question. “Eww,” she said once I reiterated the query, giving her best Summer Roberts impersonation. The patient has since made an adequate recovery.
So there it is. Bumbags are here and on the balance of reactions to wearing the attire and asking an appropriate amount of people, they are no good. And I agree.
Or so I thought.
The issue had been put to rest as far as I was concerned – until I found myself at Leichhardt Oval watching the Bluebags playing the grand final against a team from Bankstown. Perched on the hill waiting for my sister to bring me a jar (sometimes they’re good for something) I noticed the legendary Johnny Trad was there with his penny farthing. Anyone in this city worth their crust knows precisely who Johnny is and if you don’t, well, you can beat it. But for the sake of education, Johnny is the bloke riding the penny farthing around the oval every time the Newtown Jets score a four-pointer. Hero.
After Kyle Flanagan went in for a somewhat controversial try and Johnny returned after trying in vain to do his thing, I noticed him reach into his BLACK LEATHER BUMBAG for rehydration. I couldn’t believe it. My world turned on its head.
Newtown is coming, hear the Bluebags humming.
