IN the fall of 1944, Leon Leonwood Bean, better known as L. L., introduced an easier way for folks to haul heavy blocks of ice from the car to the icebox. It was advertised in his catalog as Bean’s Ice Carrier; the waterproof tote, built from expedition-grade canvas, could hold 400 pounds. Ever the artful businessman, Bean suggested that customers use the bag not just to lug ice, but to carry everything else as well.
Today, a well-dressed urban work force is taking him up on it. The Boat and Tote, as the Ice Carrier was renamed in the ’60s, and similarly indestructible canvas carryalls from brands like Filson, Billykirk and Rogues Gallery have become devil-may-care alternatives to the briefcase. When you consider that they can accommodate your laptop, your gym clothes and the day’s sundry necessities, while lending a jaunty whistle-while-you-work air — well, the briefcase begins to appear a little hard-shelled.
“Briefcases are very serious,” said Michael Macko, the men’s fashion director of Saks Fifth Avenue. “Canvas totes read, ‘I’m a little more casual.’ ” Mr. Macko owns upward of 30 L. L. Bean totes (his favorite: a customized all-black style) and carries them everywhere, including to the office. “But I also never wear socks in the summer,” he said.
Which is not to say that, with a little panache, a canvas tote can’t be paired with pinstripes, but it looks best a bit dressed down.
“I think it looks as good with a tailored khaki suit as it does with jeans,” said Andy Spade, who carries an irreverent Jack Spade canvas Trash bag to work, his customized with his daughter’s doodles.
Cynthia Rowley chose to monogram her Bean tote not with her initials, but with the letters B-A-D. As her husband, the writer Bill Powers, explained, “It’s my wife’s way of being subversive.”
