In the early Heian period of Japan, before the reign of the samurai, noblemen adorned themselves with exquisite armor during battle. These weren’t practical designs meant for combat but rather opulent displays of wealth and power. They were a form of visual intimidation, a way to win without bloodshed. Perhaps today’s obsession with luxury handbags is a similar form of modern armor. Fashion magazines dedicate immense space to bag features, with 2005 issues showcasing an array of colors and shapes like a comprehensive insect guide. The horizontal bag trend is prominent now, with magazines receiving over 1,000 bags for photo shoots that span several days. Brands shower editors with freebies, fueling a yearning for those coveted ‘editor’s bags.’ But seasoned editors can spot the difference between a genuine purchase and a gift – the latter rarely matches the owner’s personal style. The trained eye is discerning. If you’re hoping to avoid that borrowed-bag look, even after a coveted purchase, spend a week with it at home, letting the thrill fade before taking it out into the world.
The rate at which people upgrade their handbags today is remarkable. In 2005, most featured bags were priced between ¥100,000 and ¥200,000. With luxury items now routinely exceeding ¥500,000 to ¥600,000, few can afford to keep up with the latest releases. However, subscription services make high-end brands accessible, and reselling pre-owned items has become common. This begs the question: Why the relentless desire for these extravagant bags? The answer lies in their symbolism. Like a grand helmet with intricate decorations, a handbag displays the owner’s economic power and confidence. The brand logo, gleaming on a luxurious material, serves as a powerful emblem. It’s no surprise that, in a bygone era, a Birkin bag was seen as a badge of success for women. Yet, that was a time when opportunity seemed more accessible for all. In our current era of widening inequality and rigid social structures, discreetly showcasing wealth through inherited family heirlooms, like a grandmother’s Kelly bag or a mother’s Chanel, has become a more subtle and powerful strategy.
Japan, with its pronounced gender gap, still sees a limited number of women reaching the pinnacle of professional success. While men engage in a battle of business cards, each striving for the most prestigious title, comparing female status is a more complex game. The age-old question, ‘Who is the winner: the woman who earns her fortune or the woman who enjoys the wealth of her family and husband?’ remains relevant. Perhaps this ambiguity fuels the need to assert dominance through handbag displays, as a visual marker of wealth and position.
I, however, am a proponent of the ‘tsuzura,’ the traditional Japanese carrying case, rather than the helmet-like handbag. For me, a bag is simply a container. After experiencing the 2011 earthquake in Japan, I’ve made a conscious decision to prioritize practicality. Living in a disaster-prone country, I always carry a sturdy pair of running shoes and emergency supplies when I venture out. These necessities require ample space, and chic micro-bags simply won’t do. Witnessing someone struggling with a tiny bag that can barely fit a banana makes me anxious. That’s why I always have my trusty backpack with me, a Japanese-made, ¥20,000 model. It’s my ideal find, but in 2005, it might have been deemed unworthy of entry into the Vogue office. Back then, my go-to bag was the Hermes Caravan, a remarkably understated and spacious option, priced around ¥100,000. It lacked the ostentatious logo and distinctive design of its more extravagant counterparts, rendering it a ‘zero’ in terms of wielding visual dominance. Only one of my colleagues recognized it as an Hermes, and she was a keen observer, the same person who could identify a Harry Winston ring at lightning speed. I’ve always been a fan of carrying bags, often opting for the classic Prada or Gucci bamboo black backpack. Once I find something I love, I stick with it. Books and documents were bulky in the days before digitalization, making a sizable bag a necessity.
In the 2005 Vogue issue, a charity auction featured celebrity-owned bags. They even boldly requested a Birkin bag from Jane Birkin herself (she expressed interest but couldn’t participate due to scheduling conflicts). This is a tradition worth reviving in 2024. The soaring value of luxury items will undoubtedly make the potential donations far greater than they were 19 years ago. As for my dream bag for this auction, I’d choose the brown Celine bag that Gwyneth Paltrow carried during the quiet luxury boom, the one she used for legal documents. It was enormous, capable of holding all my emergency gear. Gwyneth’s unique aura permeated the courtroom, and the bag holds an undeniable charm. But it would likely fetch a staggering price, and I doubt she’d be willing to part with it. Despite being empty containers, bags are curiously imbued with dreams and desires, capable of holding infinite possibilities.
