One of these bags is invaluable
I’ve been using a new bag to take my suits into work. It’s called a Henty Wingman. You put your jacket and trousers on a coathanger, zip it into the flat main compartment then roll it around a cylindrical inner bag which you’re meant to use for toiletries (I prefer to use it as a poncy manbag for the office and leave the bigger, cumbersome outer layer stuffed in my locker).
Generally, I’m not a huge fan of the courier bag one-shoulder set-up, which in my experience means you often have to decide between losing the circulation in your left arm or keeping the strap loose and putting up with the whole thing randomly swinging into the wing mirrors of trucks. I could also do without the Wingman’s preponderance of clips and straps which take a bit of getting used to and make the contraption look like a piece of camping equipment. But the bottom line is, if you fold everything correctly, it works. Your suit will not give you the appearance of having slept rough in a shop doorway. For that look I rely on not shaving for a week and attacking four climbs on a heavy steel fixie as part of my 12-mile commute, which gives me the classic punch-drunk stare of a wino.
The Wingman gets stares of a different kind, mainly because it looks so complicated. A few weeks ago, as I was preparing to go home, someone saw my new bag in the staff changing room, but this time it was the Uniqlo plastic carrier I had pulled out of the side pocket that provoked interest. “It doesn’t matter what you use,” this stranger observed, “you will always need a plastic bag.”
It’s a hallmark of The Serious Cyclist that he (it’s always a he) will proffer a nugget of wisdom whether you’ve asked for it or not. But he’s right, you know. Like the red balloon trailing that kid along the streets of 1950s Paris, the humble plastic bag has patiently followed me throughout my cycling life. It’s a protective wrapping for food to prevent your work clothes being splattered in a burst ready meal. It’s a waterproof inner layer lest the rain seeps in through a zip. It’s a receptacle for soaked kit after you’ve been drenched in a particularly wet off-season race. And it’s a compartment to separate sweaty clothing from smothering the pages of whatever paperback I happen to be reading. Like the best cyclists, the dutiful plastic carrier bag is light, uncomplicated, adaptable and free. Our lives would be messier and smellier without it.
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