I was at the receiving end of a slagging at the weekend. I proudly debuted a new phone strap – a contraption that essentially turns my phone into a little hands-free crossbody bag. I was thrilled with myself, despite the withering appraisals from at least two friends that told me I wasn’t pulling it off with the same panache as the Gen Z-ers at Electric Picnic. I had been bopping around all week with no handbag, doing the Big Shop with my phone around my neck laden with all the cards I needed for my transactions. My keys clipped handily in too. I was moving around the world as if I had those most coveted of items, pockets.
It used to be that complimenting an Irish woman’s dress had at least a 70 per cent chance of eliciting one of the following responses: “Thanks, Penneys”, “Ah sure this is only a rag”, “Dune-ays Boutique” or “Twenty euro!”. All self-deprecating ways of conveying a message of “Isn’t it lovely? Now, I spent no money on it, and I have no notions about myself wearing it, but I am pleased with it all the same and you can go out and buy the very same one in Dunnes or Penneys and I won’t mind a bit.”
In recent years, a new exclamation has taken priority over the provenance or price of any garment. The conversation might go thusly:
“Oh Sarah, your dress is gorgeous, where did you get it?”
[ Emer McLysaght: I might remove my cooker and replace it with an air fryer shrineOpens in new window ]
With this Sarah’s eyes light up. She thrusts her hands deep into the fabric of her skirt and blurts, “Thanks! It has pockets!”
Declaring that a garment has pockets is an involuntary action, like sneezing or shouting “Hey baby let the free birds fly” during The Fields of Athenry. Witnessing or being part of an It Has Pockets interaction is extremely wholesome, with the pocket-owner so pleased with the convenience of it and the compliment-giver so genuinely happy for her. There is no greater selling point than an item having pockets, particularly a dress or a skirt. The pockets movement has been swelling for some time now. It’s becoming more common to see an actor on the red carpet demonstrating the pockets in their gown. Wedding dresses – those with fuller skirts at least – might come with a little pocket quirk. You may be sure that the big day will feature a 20-minute photoshoot dedicated to said pockets.
Sometimes women’s fashion is so baffling that I wonder have the powers that be ever even met a woman
The history of pockets in women’s clothing is a little depressing. It seems largely down to the aesthetics of form-fitting clothes and a subsequent reliance on bags to carry one’s belongings. Even when trousers became more and more part of life for women, pockets – sometimes tiny and useless – became common in jeans but less so elsewhere. I own countless items of clothing that could have pockets but don’t. I’ve owned coats that appeared to have pockets but actually just featured a false flap with no hole behind. I genuinely get a little thrill when I put on my pocketed items, knowing that my day will be just a little bit more enjoyable.
I’ve seen baby clothes with functioning pockets. What does a baby need with a pocket? For extra soothers? To keep a little carrot corn snack in case he gets peckish? I’ve seen men’s pyjama bottoms with pockets. For even in the depths of slumber he must never be far from somewhere to put his wallet and keys.
Sometimes women’s fashion is so baffling that I wonder have the powers that be ever even met a woman. We could be clawing up at them from the ground, gasping with our last dying breaths, “Pockets, please, just some pockets”, and they’d be adding things like “tops that can’t be worn without a complicated bra” or “dresses with the waist bits cut out” or the ultimate indignity, “Cold shoulders. Women love to have their shoulders out but their arms covered. It’s fashion darling, look it up.”
A dress I purchased recently couldn’t have been a better candidate for pockets. When I wear it my hands instinctively and futilely search for the holes. To add insult to injury there is a little breast pocket that becomes instantly useless when I bend over even a bit because the items will just fall out. “Why did you buy it then?” you might ask. Well, the 10 other dresses I considered likely didn’t have pockets either. For now, it’s going to be me and my phone strap. Deeply uncool but fantastically functional. Put that on my headstone.