The mystery and magic of a lady's handbag

In the unfathomable mystery of gender, few habits perplex the average male, such as a woman's fervent devotion to a handbag. This inanimate object, a mere receptacle for odds and ends, has evolved into a symbol of femininity, a declaration of personal status, and a Pandora's box of personal histories and habits.

So, let's consider the modern woman, striding confidently through life, her handbag draped across her shoulder as a shield against the slings and arrows of unexpected misfortune. What secret treasures does she keep inside its depths, and what esoteric knowledge is hidden in that leather-bound codex?

I suspect that it is both everything and nothing. The bag serves as both a necessity and a luxury, as well as a support and a source of comfort. It serves as a mobile office, a first-aid kit, a food bar, a make-up room, a beverage cabinet and a self-reflection shrine. Within its shadowy confines, one might find anything from a dog-eared novel to a half-eaten packet of spearmint gum, a crumpled receipt for a regretted purchase, or an almost empty lipstick.

The bag is unquestionably an extension of the self, a portable self-care kit in an uncertain world, a Mary Poppins carpet bag of boundless reassurance. Need a plaster to cover a wound or blister? It is in the bag. Looking for a sugar boost in the middle of the day? Search around, and you'll probably discover a linty sweet rolling around. Need to prepare for an unexpected meeting? Fear not; a handbag inevitably has a little bottle of perfume, a compact mirror, and a liner pen that may or may not suffice.

We empty-handed men, perplexed and slightly jealous, ponder this behaviour with awe and faux incomprehension. After all, what are pockets used for? But here's the catch: men's clothing, which is built for purpose, has pockets deep enough to lose young children in. On the other hand, women's fashion appears to be based on the premise that the fairer sex does not require such basic practicalities as portable storage space.

With so few pockets, the handbag becomes more of a necessity than an adornment. It is the price women pay for attempting to carry more than a credit card and a house key. It is a sartorial penalty imposed by a history of male designers on females who dare to leave the house dressed for more than one occasion. They have decided that your aim is decorative; therefore, do not assume a practical purpose; that is a man's right.

Why don't women simply fight against this injustice, demanding pockets with the enthusiasm of suffragettes chained to railings? The explanation lies in the insidious nature of both fashion and intergenerational marketing.

The modest handbag has evolved from a utilitarian item to a luxury good, a status symbol and even a portable work of art. The luxury handbag business is a textbook in fake scarcity and aspirational marketing. Take the Hermès Birkin bag, a snip at €64,000, with free delivery - a powerful symbol of affluence with a large waiting list. This is more than just a bag; it's an investment in personal status, a unicorn crafted from leather, overdrafts, and dreams. Women of lesser means will spend a week's earnings to obtain even a knock-off, treating the sacred item with the reverence often reserved for first-class religious relics or exceptionally gifted children.

And if a man dares to carry a handbag, he is looked at suspiciously, as if he has committed a serious violation of the natural order. A man carrying a handbag is an outlier, a bug in the male matrix. He is either a metrosexual straining the bounds of acceptable masculinity or a traveller who is still learning the nuances of local customs. And here, size matters; a rucksack, which is nothing more than a bloated bag, denotes an independent and adventurous mentality. When you shrink it and suspend it from a hairy fist, it indicates preciousness.

This basic profiling is clearly ludicrous, and gendering inanimate objects is an odd human quirk that serves no benefit other than to reinforce unexamined social norms. Carrying a bag is not necessarily feminine, nor is it inherently manly to have a wallet bulging to the point of herniation in one's back pocket or a bundle of keys stabbing painfully into an already bruised thigh.

Nonetheless, the stigma lingers, and a man with a handbag is viewed as effeminate as if carrying his belongings in a more efficient manner somehow weakens his manhood. This tells much about our society's fragile concept of masculinity, in which even the most practical decisions can be interpreted as a violation of gender standards.

But I must admit that I am enthralled by the furtive but familiar ritual of the handbag delve, a spectacle that always elicits a chorus of sighs and eye-rolls from the mystified male viewer. It's mesmerising to observe a woman search through her bag, her arm vanishing up to the elbow in its Mary Poppins-esque depths. The man can't believe that finding a simple lipstick can be as exhilarating as discovering the Dead Sea Scrolls. 

During this impromptu excavation, the woman's countenance changes from hard concentration to undisguised delight as her fingers finally tighten around the elusive object she is searching for. It's as if she found gold in a river of coins and loose mints. This treasure hunt, which baffles the male observer, is plainly a source of great satisfaction for its female offender. I can't help but wonder whether the true joy isn't in locating the desired object but in the journey itself - a brief, handbag-shaped escape from the demands of the outside world, including the male companion.

So, the next time you see a woman rummaging through her handbag with the intense concentration of an archaeologist on the verge of a significant discovery or a male nervously sporting a 'man bag' as if it might spontaneously combust at any moment, remember this: we are all, in our own ways, looking for something. Whether it's our keys, sense of self, or place in the world, the ubiquitous bag is just a container for our endless journey.

The handbag is not a symbol of feminine empowerment or male emasculation but a utilitarian appendage. Its fundamental duty is to carry things, and it excels at smoothing the day's flow by meeting modest but immediate needs.

And if, as a perplexed male, you question the necessity of such an accessory, I recommend you experience a day without pockets. You might develop a new appreciation for the simple bag, that steadfast companion in the often overwhelming demands of modern life. After all, in a world where even our phones have grown too ungainly to fit in our pockets, perhaps it's time we all embraced the practical magic of the bag, regardless of gender.

Finally, whether you carry a handbag, a backpack, or nothing at all, remember that what you choose to carry within it defines you, not the bag itself. And who are we to judge if that's a small bottle of hand sanitiser, a flask of whisky, a small pearl-handled revolver, or an emergency chocolate bar?