Now that she’s vaccinated, Shelly Crowley can’t wait to enjoy public spaces again. An extrovert who feeds off the energy of others, Crowley is excited to feel like part of a bustling city. Specifically, she’s excited to tote around her canvas New Yorker bag for no reason other than to signal a forced dedication to highbrow content.
Sure, in recent months, she’s had a chance to ease back into some social activities, like drive-in movies, but for Crowley, participation in city life specifically takes the form of making sure other people—strangers especially—witness her New Yorker bag. And it’s hard to ensure that sort of exposure at socially distanced events.
“Thank God scientists worked so quickly on making the vaccines,” muses Crowley. “How much longer could I have stayed in my home, reposting New Yorker articles on every social media platform, hoping people would understand that I subscribe to that magazine? It just wasn’t the same.” Her bag, in contrast, tells a person everything they need to know. “It’s less about the articles themselves,” she explains, “and more about a feeling.”
Pre-pandemic, Crowley used to spend entire days out of the house, hopping from brunch to stores, to a workout class, then to a bar—always with her New Yorker bag slung over one shoulder. This constant on-the-go lifestyle was a guaranteed way for Crowley to get tons of eyeballs on her New Yorker bag. “When I have that thing, people take one look at me, and immediately know I’m one of those girls!” she says, proud for some reason.
Crowley is champing at the bit for the casual ease of normal life when she can once again hang out with friends and signal to strangers that she reads a specific publication. Though she has amassed a giant collection of free tote bags from various brands that try to weasel free marketing out of their aspirational clientele, only Crowley’s water-stained New Yorker tote serves as a constant staple of every outfit. “I feel naked in public without it!” says Crowley, a self-described prude who has no idea what being naked in public actually feels like.
Before getting vaccinated, like many other bookish people, Crowley did a lot of online book shopping. But that came with distinct downsides. “When I click a button to make a purchase from the comfort of my own home, no one has to stare at my tote bag while I fumble with my Kate Spade wallet. No one has to witness my Mary Jane shoes/striped socks combo and think to themselves, ‘Wow she probably reads Jane Austen for fun like some little freak.’” It’s these markers of normal life that Crowley is so eager to return to, now that her immune system is fortified by the COVID-19 vaccine.
After six years of dedicated use, Crowley’s New Yorker bag has turned from off-white to an uneven light brown, which suggests it may be time to retire it. But Crowley is stubborn. “Maybe my bag is a bit worse for wear, but I honestly don’t notice it until I see another 20 or 30-something with a newer version of the same bag.” A resident of Bed-Stuy, Crowley encounters this phenomenon approximately five times a day.
