I discovered my mum’s collection of fanny packs last month while digging through her closet; you read that right, collection. I didn’t stop at one or two. She had an entire drawer full of nylon holsters in neutral colours and prints.
Beige. Black. White.
And; God help us; brown floral that can only be described as Christina Ricci auditioning for the drag queen version of The Wonder Years. “Oh mum!” I gasped, whipping one of the uglier burgundy variations out like I’d just unearthed a dinosaur carcass. “What is THIS graveyard of wallets?! ?” My mother walked into her bedroom from the hallway laughing. “Honey, those are handy!” She gestured to her own overstuffed closet. “I keep one in every coat. You never know when you’ll need to get your hands free.” My mouth opened and closed a few times as if I actually planned to refute her enjoyment of one of the handiest wallets on the market; my inner-editor spent the last year railroading me into obsessed over structured crossbody bags; spending far too much money on mini versions from niche brands like Polène last autumn when I maxed out a credit card… but the chuckles stopped there.
Because holy shit.
Between that story and my recent #BottegaBag purchase (retail, NOT an actual sample people!
Don’t @ me. ), I spent $285 on ALMOST THE SAME ITEM. Let me repeat that.
Mum…. bought me …. helped me understand that mum fashion; the aesthetic I spent adolescence fighting against with every stitch of ironic trucker tee I owned; is not only back but BETTER THAN EVER. Okay, so I may be exaggerating just a teeny bit. I watched every piece come back as trendy twentysomethings rejected skinny jeans and ESPTs in favour of “comfort.” But it all culminated when I went to grab lunch with my friend Emma last Tuesday and noticed NO LESS THAN SEVEN BELT BAGS on GUYS who were walk the literal embodiment of cool running past our table in Williamsburg.
Leather ones from Coach slung low across chests instead of hips; Lululemon’s Every. Single. Pair. of Sweats worn with bulky hoodies that swallowed their bodies whole; one OG Gucci I quietly swore was an actual vintage piece from the 90s and not “inspired by” them.
The girl wearing the Gucci was maybe 19, half my age when those sacks were affectionately dubbed “thongs for your wallets.” All of these trend cycles come back to haunt me eventually but how was jewellery designer Jacobs – a man who literally named one of his bags after a Rolex Watch – supposed to know Generation Z had raised himself to reclaim these closetsights? ! Mum style has officially been upgraded by Gen Z. And they didn’t just cherry pick the pieces they wanted from it; they included the context around them, imbuing items we once considered “practical” with newfound political undertones.
Mum Jeans are no longer something my mother donned while mowing her lawn. Bella Hadid wore them last June and they’re basically street style canon now. I have vivid memories of my mother wearing her Levi’s 550 jeans with some horrifically large white dads trainers she loved (and I hated) throughout the early 2000’s.
I’m buying nearly the same exact jeans from RE/ DONE for $230 and debating whether I should wear the trainers with them or continue telling myself they’re “dad shoes” to avoid embarrassment. Similar story with the shoes, which still confuse me to this day. Maybe it’s because I have such a clear memory of my mother forcing me to wear her orthopedic-looking New Balance trainers whenever we went “shopping.” White trainers with zero aesthetic appeal were bought for one reason and one reason alone: “support.” Now look at them.
You Might Also Like
I spent more money than I care to admit on the New Balance 530 last month after realising that every cool girl in NY had a pair. “It’s different,” I argued to Emma over our weekendcai coffee when she gave me the side-eye as I inspected them out of her closet. “They’re dad….Wait. Fashion trainers?” She laughed. “Those are literally what your mother wears on her death marches.” She had a point. But where Gen Z is swinging with this comfortable-is-best mindset is how unapologetic they are about reclaiming not just the items of mum fashion, but the ideology behind it.
There’s a freedom that comes with embracing the stereotypes of what many of us once thought “your mother wore to….mow the lawn.” Younger generations are proving that you can care about being comfortable without surrendering your sense of style – or, more importantly – your sexuality. “I don’t get why anyone ever thought looking comfortable made you unattractive,” said Gen Z fashion designer Tara Johnson over coffee last week. We were discussing her new collection – made entirely of upcycled vintage clothing – and she sauntered over to the table wearing a much cooler version of what I’d expect my mum to wear shopping for plants; loose jeans, an oversized blazer shirt, combat boots, and what I initially thought was a bowling shirt. When I laughed she informed me it was a button-up jumper vest; another mum trend that has been majorly grandfather by women half her age.
Her hair was up in a claw clip, smile plastered on her face. “It just seems like…the whole ‘pain for beauty’ thing is so…ugh. Patriarchal?” She scooped up a slice of sourdough bread, dipped it in olive oil, and took a huge bite. “Beauty is pain” became the unofficial mantra of style in the early aughts. From foot-binding heels to waist-cinching jeans, we as women have been trained to believe that beauty hurts.
But as I sat there listening to Tara – who was born *gasp * after 1996 – talk about how stupid she thought it was that women wore clothes that made them suffer, it hit me where generations of women before had failed; Gen Z doesn’t give a f*ck what their clothes “say” about them. They’re just happy to finally feel good in them. That’s not to say my generation hasn’t leaned into comfort; we have!
But there was always some lingering sense that we were giving up on being cool by embracing the stretchy trousers. For Gen Z, that couldn’t be further from the truth. They’re not refusing to wear skinny jeans because they hate being told what to do, they’re wearing bootcut because it’s F*ING COMFORTABLE and makes THEIR body look good, not skinny.
Gen Z isn’t pretending like these recycled garments are punk or new, they’re wearing them loud and proud in the same way my mother once did. I watched entire TikTok algorithms outside the Maryam Nassir Zadeh show last fashion week, kids rocking what I can only describe as a chic version of their mothers’ uniforms; oversized blazers, baggy shirts, loose jeans/trousers, comfortable shoes, no makeup, and; the kicker; oversized tote bags full of clutter.
Note I said clutter.
Notstyled, empty designer totes we as influencers have shoved in the faces of our followers for YEARS.
These kids actually used their bags for something. My mother raised me to do the same.
I laughed as my mother recounted this story to me over the phone. “Well honey,” she said, as if this wasn’t the first time we’d had this conversation. “You never listened to me when I told you those shoes were killing your feet. Guess you had to learn it from TikTok.” Isn’t it funny how life works? One day we’re begging our mothers for their too-small jeans so we can pretend they belong to us, the next we’re crying over the price of said jeans being too expensive for us to actually buy them.
Moments like these are why I’ll never give up on hope of my closet becoming fully vintage someday. I returned the impractical fanny strap the next day. But I left with her boring brown one.
And I loved it. I wore that fanny pack across my chest with an vintage JP Gaultier dress last weekend to an art opening in Chelsea. Three people asked me where I got it.
