I’m starting to believe we’re only as collected (and frankly, as employable) as the infrastructure of our bags. On most days, my net worth lives inside my purse, not in the Wall Street sense, but in the more intimate economy of modern survival: the braided cluster of chargers I carry at all hours, the lip product that restores my face card after a three-hour lecture, the one lucky pencil that I swear will salvage my midterm after a last-minute study spiral, the small constellation of electronics I rotate like talismans and the apple I definitely snuck out of B-Plate because preparedness is a lifestyle.
On this campus, social life is surprisingly legible before introductions because it arrives first, slung over a shoulder. From the sorority princess to the pre-med sprinting between lab and lecture to the North Campus devotee versus the South Campus grinder to the girl who looks like she has just stepped out of a casting versus the one who clearly slept in the library, the bag becomes a kind of portable autobiography. A bag is never just a bag; rather, it is a portable declaration of how you want to be perceived, what you deem non-negotiable, and which fragments of your life you insist on keeping within reach. It holds the sweet memories you carry on ordinary days, the small safeguards and souvenirs that steady you, and the secrets you keep folded away. It is for the private version of you that still needs somewhere intimate to live.
If you have ever watched Vogue’s “In the Bag” with Olivia Rodrigo, where she unzips a vintage Fendi and pulls out an “emergency” Babybel alongside her diary, her headphones, and a small repertoire of strategies for managing overstimulation, you already understand the assignment. The camera claims it is documenting objects, but it is really filming a nervous system, built for self-presentation and self-preservation. The contents are more like a chic little show-and-tell of how a person operates on a day-to-day basis.
What’s in My Bag: Campus Edition
I got curious about the secret life of “Campus Edition” bags. On any given morning, you will see everything from nylon backpacks and utilitarian crossbodies, to logo-heavy branded purses, to Trader Joe’s or Lululemon viral canvas totes and, occasionally, a designer shoulder bag. So, I asked students from all over campus about their daily essentials, just to get a little sneak peek into the secret weapon that keeps them looking glam through the quarter system.
If you are imagining a glamorous, Instagrammable inventory, let me lovingly interrupt that fantasy. A campus bag can contain everything from two pouches of pens (one for “serious” work, and one for color-coded delusion), to a snack lineup so extensive it borders on a Trader Joe’s sponsorship. Sometimes, it is energy drinks, protein bars and mints. Other times, it is medication, band-aids and electrolytes. Most often, it is a journal, a folded note, a religious emblem or a charm because even the most hypermodern campus life still makes space for the private rituals that keep you tethered to your reality.
What’s in My Bag: HerCampus Edition
In a delightful set of interviews with Her Campus UCLA board members Hannah Bains, Ellie Dixon and Raina Bandekar, I did a mini bag audit, starting with the basics: where it goes, what is inside, the three cannot-leave-without items, the beauty staple and the most chaotic wildcard item.
Hannah Bains told me, “Right now my bag reflects my midterm mental state,” which might be the most honest campus confession. Her current inventory reads like the kind of life that is both ambitious and impeccably managed. As she listed it: Tower 28 spray (for after the gym), Democracy in America by Tocqueville, reading glasses, Jo Malone Sandalwood and Spiced Apricot perfume, gum, a calculator and, of course, her laptop. Her three cannot-leave-the-house essentials are her Rhode watermelon lip peptides, a mini Rx Bar (because who isn’t just a girl who needs her 3 p.m. snack) and her phone. The most random item in her bag is a cable machine ankle strap that she uses at the gym, which I mean, talk about being locked in. I wish I were the kind of person who could handle weighted glute kickbacks after trekking the UCLA hills. She calls it her “Mary Poppins bag,” because there is truly something for every scenario, whether it is Advil, beauty products, annotating pens or even her sorority chapter pin. And the one thing that should be in her bag, but somehow never is? Her AirPods. She has walked back to her apartment from campus because she cannot live without music, and she forgot them, which is both tragic and profoundly Gen Z.
Ellie’s bag is quietly iconic, and it gives the kind of stability I aspire to have. “This bag goes with me everywhere, school and work related,” she said. “It doesn’t leave my shoulder,” and that is the energy of someone who does not rely on luck. Inside, she keeps noise-cancelling headphones (a library essential), her pink Ello water bottle, a metal straw from her coffee this morning (my sustainability queen!), a “catch all” canvas pouch, her wallet and about ten different chargers, which is honestly the most elegant kind of preparedness, because it means she is never letting a dead battery dictate the mood of her day. She never leaves the house without Aquaphor, a hair tie and a good pen, (no rollerballs tolerated) which is the kind of specificity that screams standards. Her beauty product is the Rare Beauty lip stain, which feels perfectly aligned with her overall energy: efficient, polished and well-kempt in the best way. And the fact that she keeps Pepto Bismol chews “just in case” is, to me, the ultimate sign of lived wisdom.
And finally, Raina Bandekar, whose bag is the closest thing I have ever seen to a portable, boss-girl ecosystem. Her inventory includes a laptop, an iPad, notebooks for classes (including one for pharmacology notes on different drugs and their names), a pencil case (and, yes, a Skinny pencil case), keys, a calculator, sunglasses, hand sanitizer, an HDMI converter, a pipette-shaped pencil, chargers, random medicines (including paracetamol), a claw clip, AirPods, a medical badge, cough medicine, a mini hairbrush, a pink comb that matches her nails and, in her own words, “girl essentials,” which is the most elegant euphemism in the English language. When I asked her what the weirdest thing in her bag was, she revealed the detail that made me pause, because it was so specific, and so tender: an Indian pouch holding her sitar pick, her mizrab, so she can play sitar. It is such a poetic way of staying connected to her art, and to home, while living inside an academic sprint. She also admitted she forgets things like hair ties, lip gloss and sometimes even her wallet, despite having a card wallet, which is deeply human, because every bag, no matter how “organized,” still contains one blind spot.
What’s in My Bag: My Edition
Mine is a fashion-girlie survival kit with a sentimental streak. It follows me through the quarter system like a second shadow: from running to my modeling club at FAST, to slipping into ballet class with my hair half-pinned and my brain half in a psychology reading to showing up to lecture looking composed, even when, internally, I’m buffering.
I carry the obvious essentials: my journal is non-negotiable, because I need somewhere for my thoughts to land, and because I have one that is filled with little drawings of my cat, which is, honestly, the most accurate representation of who I am. I keep sunscreen, because I take my skincare seriously, and because nothing makes me feel more adult than protecting my future face while I’m still pulling last-minute deadlines. I keep my wallet, but what matters more than the gift cards is the small emotional archive inside it, photos of my people and the tiny proofs that I belong to someone, somewhere.
Then there are the pieces that feel like home, folded into the day. Sometimes that is my mom’s rings, little heirloom energy, quietly grounding and slightly powerful. I like the idea that, even while I am building my own life in Los Angeles, I am still carrying a trace of where I come from. And yes, of course, there is the part of my bag that is unapologetically me: my lip collection. I carry lip stains, glosses, liner, tints and everything else in between that makes me feel instantly polished, because in a world where everything moves too fast, the ability to reapply and reset is basically a coping mechanism. (The Hourglass Phantom Volumizing Glossy Lip Balm does it best, and I highly recommend.) My bag is where I keep my “I’m fine” accessories, my tiny luxuries and my micro-rituals of composure, because looking put-together on this campus is not vanity; it is strategy.
Also essential, and always present: gum, a mini Orabella perfume for a quick, mid-day reset, my key stack and, on longer journeys, a book or two to shelter my mind, because nothing worth learning or surviving exists outside a book.
If Hermione’s enchanted handbag could hold an entire alternate reality, including a tent, clothing, books, potions and even the Sword of Gryffindor, then our Campus Edition bags are basically its cousin. So, girls, keep your friends close and your bag even closer, because it is how you carry your mind, your heart and your backup plan.