夏天，自大流行开始以来，我的第一和最后一次我穿着灰色绒面革靴子，我在人行道上蹒跚而跌跌撞撞。如果我没有在我丈夫的手臂上撑起自己，我会绊倒穿着人行道。它觉得尖峰被我的脚被驱动，这已经繁殖用于触发器和运动鞋。

Whenever stylish social engagements return — fingers crossed for sometime this year — I’ll have to ease back into shoes with the slightest elevation. I’ll have to get used to pants without an elastic or drawstring waistband, too! My entire family’s gotten used to wearing soft pants; in truth, our entire country may have trouble letting go of our track pants and leggings.

I’ve only toted my purse a few times as well. I never had a Mary Poppins-size carpetbag, which magically held an apron, hairpins, perfume, folding armchair, throat lozenges, medicine, flannel nightgowns, boots, dominoes, bathing caps, postcard albums, camp bedstead, blankets and eiderdown bedding. But mine was capacious enough for snacks, books, a scarf, lipstick, hand sanitizer, sunglasses, hand lotion, wallet and the other items I used to deem essential.

These days the purse hangs on a hook on the back of the bedroom door. In the 10½ months of upended routines and styles, I’ve traded it in for a simpler accessory … a fanny pack.

It’s a style that has appeared in different forms throughout history, even prehistory: aleather belt with a pouchwas part of the wardrobe on a mummified man in the mountains on the border between Austria and Italy. Fast-forward to the 1980s, in my early childhood, when fanny packs were all the rage again, decorated in the neon shades befitting that decade. If I recall correctly, my father had one too, made of black leather. Howpractical. How paternal.

In my mind, fanny packs remained a dad accessory designed for adad bod— dependable and dorky. But what’s old is suddenly new, and cool, again.

My husband purchased it early on during shelter-in-place when we went for numerous walks every day. I was dubious at first but quickly grew to love its sturdy blue nylon exterior and endless zippered pockets, into which I can store my keys, slip in a water bottle, hand sanitizer, spare masks and snacks to keep the boys motivated. We were late to the party; fanny packs have long been a staple ofqueer fashion.

当我把它绑在一起时，我不想尴尬的旅游。相反，就好像是我用激光枪或带有光剑的芦苇一样，在臀部上哼了一声。我可以在一个同时的空间歌剧中，伴随着未来派zzzzzzzz热情的声音打开并关闭。

Whileforaging, if I had to scale a wild plum tree, I could deposit a handful of fruits into my fanny pack. During the summer, while creek-walking, I could stash my valuables and still have room for a ziplock to fill with blackberries; if the creek deepened past my waist, I hitched up the fanny pack. If I’d been carrying a backpack, I would have had to balance it on my head. And if I have to run — say, to catch a train when I return to riding trains — the fanny pack would tuck ergonomically against my back, no awkward, one-shouldered whapping of a purse against my side as I ran. Nor would I whack anyone with it in crowded spaces.

The fanny pack’s compact size has taught me to reconsider what’s necessary. Even after the coronavirus quells, I may skip the purse and all its usual hassles: getting overloaded because I could fit more inside, or having to keep an eye on it while out and about to avoid getting it snatched.

In some circles, they’re fashionable. Consider the high-end version, such as Gucci’s $1,200Marmont Matelassé Leather Belt Bag.

Belt bag? We know its true name now and forever: All hail the fanny pack!