Inside Style - Bum Bags

'No Fanny Packs' courtesy of Zazzle.co.uk

Inside Style - by Annmarie O'Connor - as featured in The Dubliner magazine - June 2nd

Bum bag. n. a small pouch worn belted around the waist or hips; otherwise known as a fanny pack (US); a divisive accessory known to evoke derision, debate and unsolicited comments from members of family and/or random members of the public.

This definition really should have appeared to me at the till (in a cartoon speech bubble; or to the strains of Weird Al Yankovich’s ‘White & Nerdy’) before having purchased said tourist tote for a recent family holiday.  The fact is I never saw it coming. With Hermes, Pucci, Diane von Furstenberg and Jaeger all showcasing the formerly reviled receptacle on the s/s 11 catwalks, I too felt I could work the hands-free look.

To be fair, the fashion throwback has come a long way. Garish synthetic has been bumped for butter soft leathers in hues that waft like an air of discretion. My All Saints purchase seemed tailor-made for perambulating around Rome’s ‘centro storico’ – or so I thought.

“What is that?” queried the Wise Elder, a.k.a. Older Sister, All-Seeing Eye.  “What do you mean?” I retorted rather unconvincingly as we departed our hotel. “That thing around your waist,” pointed a finger.  “Are you serious?” 
“It’s great for travelling,” I added weakly. “Back to the `80s perhaps,” came the reply.

“Clearly you were at the Clark’s sample sale while I was at London Fashion Week,” I balked, casting a judgemental glance at her new ‘walking’ sandals. Bad move. Very bad move.

 “What’s that saying? If you remembered it the first time...” Ouch. That cloaked (albeit barbed) reference to my 38th birthday did not go unnoticed.  Round 1 went to The Wise Elder.  

We put our verbal bouts aside to soak up the Roman sunshine and take in some of the sights. With my bum bag slung over an Acne maxi dress and leather gilet, I was free to photograph every step of the day from The Forum to the Trevi Fountain. 

I felt vindicated, in the name of practicality if nothing else.  I was less tacky tourist; more worldly traveller. Round 2 was mine. With that I queued up at the Cafe Giolitti to indulge in a smug victory gelato. 

“Excuse me?” protruded an unfamiliar voice from the crowd. “Where did you get your fanny pack? Target by any chance? It’s simply darling! Do you mind if I take a picture of it?”

And round 3 went to...