The Allure Of An Unbranded Bag

“OK, enough with the bag” a friend complained to me in reference to the same handbag I’ve worn almost every day for a year. The bag in question is Lindquist’s Faba in solar, a pop of yellow that has since sold out. While only an honest and close confidante could say something so rude to my face without risking the end of our friendship, I did understand that I really had been wearing this bag all the time as others from my past as a former accessories editor collected dust. Ultimately I didn’t care what my friend thought, but I had to understand why I couldn’t stop (and won’t stop) wearing it.

Handmade in small batches from start to finish in East Providence, Rhode Island, the line of handbags from founder Lindy McDonough are cut and sewn responsibly with minimal waste using naturally dyed leathers by a small yet nimble team. I don’t live very far from there, so I took a visit to their lofty retail store that doubles as their workshop and headquarters. The simple, well-made designs in a smattering of neutrals and poppy brights are very appealing to the eye, but the transparency of their process to the consumer (thanks to the open floor plan of the space) no doubt helps secure the deal. For a four-year-old brand, their designs grace the floors and e-commerce sites of an impressive group of likeminded boutiques, taking Lindquist’s reach outside of the northeast, but in circles where slow fashion resonates strongly.

This particular bag entered my world in summer when I could no longer rely on coat pockets to hold my phone, card, and keys, and it felt silly to carry a shoulder bag on dog walks around the neighborhood. Almost a year later, I’m a new mom and Faba’s streamlined simplicity is more valuable than ever. I cannot even fathom the concept of “switching bags”, nor do I feel like I ever need to. The purpose of a handbag is grounded in utility and this one completely fulfills that duty first — aesthetic seems like a bonus. The wavy “bean” shape is interesting and ergonomic, and I found that the cheery yellow transcends all seasons perfectly, transitioning to fall like changing leaves, adding a much needed pop to winter garb on grey days, and mimicking the daffodils in spring. As a seasoned accessories editor, I have no notes — it truly is a fabulous bag.

Once I started wearing it, I noticed something unusual start to happen. A waitress at a restaurant in town approached my table not to take my order but to ask “Is that a Lindquist? I am obsessed with their bags.” The girl who purchased a shelving unit from me on Facebook marketplace showed up with the Faba in Olive: “It is my favorite bag.” Arriving for a lunch date, Brooklyn expat jewelry designer Fay Andrada carried a Faba in Vachetta, a natural toned hue intended to build a patina over time. My neighbor, photographer Jamie Arendt took a trip to the store Judith in Portland and divulged her spoils which included a Faba in Sumac, a rich burgundy color that has since sold out. The three of us went to lunch in January and we all chuckled at our little rainbow of Faba’s on the table when the check arrived. Here I was thinking I found a low-key piece that just happened to really stick, but instead I walked into a local status ring I wasn’t even aware of.

When I lived full-time in New York a few years ago, I never blinked an eye seeing all colors and sizes of handbags from Chanel, Bottega, or Hermès walk down the streets of pretty much any neighborhood in Manhattan and most of Brooklyn, across many demographics. But once I relocated to Rhode Island several years ago, these sightings became much more rare. Not to say these pieces don’t show up now and then, but the flex is much different. Power is expressed in other ways (mainly in second homes and club memberships), and handbags aren’t really one of them.

I polled a few pals in different parts of the country to weigh in on what bags people carry. Outside of the aforementioned ubiquitous labels, each region seemed to have its own brand of clique-y nondescript bags too. My sources revealed that Clare V reigns supreme in its hometown of Los Angeles (as reinforced by its mythical sample sale), Austinites love woven leathers from Bembien, mochila bags like those from Golly Pumarejo are all over Miami, and depending on who you ask, New Yorkers are frequently seen with a playful Luar or a minimalist Savette style on their arm. While a lot of these make total sense given cultural and geographical context, I was still intrigued by the appeal of the “if you know, you know” secret society of unmarked bags.

I can’t quite articulate the special sauce that makes the Faba a go-to, nor could McDonough. “I don’t know what it is. I’ve designed many bags, but the Faba hit in a way that I wasn’t quite ready for. It looks good and so different on everyone.” But something tells me it’s a combination of a few things. She has a discerning eye for details and lights up when describing the materials, like the best handmade brass hardware from Japan and thread for stitching from one of the oldest thread manufacturers in France. She takes real pride and time (often upwards of two years) in getting their signature colors totally right from their Argentinian leather supplier who uses vegetable tanning and no harmful chemicals. But hearing McDonough wax poetic about her team and workplace so positively radiated good juju: “I love what we do here. It’s the best version of what I’ve always wanted to do.” I’m not sure if any exec at LVMH could really say the same.

Despite all of the intention behind the pieces, price-wise, these bags are a small fraction of other designer bags. The Faba retails at $390. A comparable crossbody wallet-size piece from other designers starts at around $900. Which makes it even more intriguing. For the care that McDonough takes in making the pieces, is it comparable to that of bags in the “luxury” sector? It poses the question about what actually defines the term luxury to the consumer and where the value lies. The process of how something is made has either been lost or merely implied by some luxury houses that were once built on craftsmanship and traded in for marketing. If one ultimately needs a bag, there are great choices that have a closer connection to those who make it, especially if they are local. And perhaps that may embody true luxury for some consumers, while challenging the idea that It-bags need the prerequisite logos or distinguishable hardware. It may come down to your environment and the people you surround yourself with more so than what the runways feed you. And that can be liberating.