The BM Bag
A World to Carry
Designer's Philosophy
From Biruk Gizaw & Rahim Chilewa
We made this bag for people with a lot on their minds and a lot to carry. People whose interests, ambitions, and everyday lives rarely fit into one category. In reimagining the familiar tote, we approached its silhouette and colour with the same conviction that shaped our interpretation of the zoot suit: an understanding of what came before, and a desire to make its presence undeniable. Red connects these worlds within BLAREMONT MAG. It commands attention, giving shape to our insistence that the people and stories we celebrate deserve to be seen in their fullness. Here, red, cream, and gold bring that intention into an object whose very form makes a statement. Our accompanying portrait of the woman in full explores one expression of this idea: her private rituals, public ambitions, and everything she carries between them. The bag itself is for anyone moving between different versions of their day, making room for all that they are and all they are becoming.
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I remember sitting in church next to my grandmother when I was a kid. She always carried multiple bags into church as she had her school bag for teaching and her personal bag filled with lipstick and such. When she would come upstairs from teaching Sunday School, she would put the big bag on the floor and sit her personal bag in the little nook between her and the armrest of the pew. If I behaved myself, she would pull out a little snack baggie and coloring sheet for me. I always thought these were just things that she took with her everywhere she went, saying to myself "Wow, she takes snacks everywhere she goes!" And for a 6 year-old, that was the most amazing thing in the world. I only began to truly understand all that a purse could mean when I saw my grandmother prepare for church one Sunday morning. Coming down to breakfast, I noticed these wonderful assembly lines and going down them were her dual purses. For the big one, she added her Sunday School book, lesson plans, extra squishy toys for her students, crayons, coloring pages and books, jewelry made for other parishioners, and her massive, well-worn Bible. Even her personal bag contained multitudes and was assembled with care and attention to detail. From her famous slightly crushed peppermints to the very snack bags that I relished as a child. She truly had everything. Of course, she never forgot her keys, wallet, driving gloves, and sunglasses.
However, the sum of the bag was much more than its mere contents. On either shoulder, she literally carried her livelihood. Her faith, her identity, her home, her commitment to her community, and her hopes for younger generations were carried with dedication and intention as she went along her journey. Her purses were more than a fashion statement, they were vessels and her life was contained therein. Only in that moment did I realize what a bag could mean for or to an individual. At that moment I understood how so much of the scaffolding intended to shape my life and the lives of those in our community were contained in the bags of our grandmothers, mothers, and sisters.
I remember when my siblings and I manufactured our mothers desire to own many bags. I think I was secretly living vicariously through her. There was a time when every milestone, be it a birthday, Christmas, or Mothers Day, ensured a new edition to that shelf in her closet. I think it brought us more joy than it did her. Eventually our Dad jumped on the train, adding to the collection more unique bags for special occasions that were definitely form over function. Each bag represented the appreciation we had for our mother and a willingness to celebrate her but also served as a symbol of her family's love that she could literally carry with her everyday.
My sisters got their first purses before 1 did. Not only were they older, but carrying a bag marked an introduction to young womanhood that did not apply to me as a 10-year-old boy. They truly carried multitudes in those things too. Back then, they were small leather backpacks that they would stuff full of pencils, pens, wallets, cards, hair care products, lipgloss and whatever else was necessary for a pre-teen girl to carry with her. Eventually the contents turned into personal products, full eyeshadow palettes, drivers licenses, car keys, and even shooters if the occasion called for it. Soon, with age, the bags themselves evolved. From little backpacks to cross bodies, top handles, totes, and clutches. They became allegories of their own, telling the story of journeys taken, happenings conceived, and possibilities prepared for.
The contents of bags carried offer an insight into the person carrying them. More than a person's perceived identity, be it racial, gendered, political, cultural or ethnic, the contents of their various bags exemplify complexities of their personhood and their relationship between public and private life. I imagine a corporate baddie with her Rogue 40 filled with planners, business cards, her Mac and the sketchpad she uses on the train to mentally prepare for the day to come and the day passed. To her, time spent sketching is sacred and reminds her of a dream not pursued and a youth not quite cherished enough. I imagine a retiree carrying the bag she bought as her first "big girl purchase" from Bloomingdales in the 70s that contains her whole world. It is her most prized possession and went with her to every milestone, from promotions to her wedding to the birth of grandchildren. I imagine the aspiring Broadway star with his Trader Joe's tote bag that has accompanied him to hundreds of auditions, ensuring he is always stocked with headshots, scripts, water, wired headphones, and whatever piece of classic Spanish poetry book he is reading at any given time.
Now, I too carry bags with me. As I evolve, so will they, telling my story to anyone who asks about them or benefits from their contents. Though they are not flashy (yet) they are a companion to accompany me throughout my
various journeys. So, what is a bag? It is a toolkit, a statement piece, a weapon, a piece of armour, but mostly a window into the world of another.
-Hananiah Quinn