Which tote tribe are you? Summer’s hottest accessory can reveal a lot about you – from a diligent snob to a holiday bragger

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The humble tote for the American grocery store Trader Joe’s is today officially one of the world’s top ten ‘hottest products’. According to fashion forecaster Lyst, it is up there with bags by Chanel, Saint Laurent and Celine, prompting huge queues and memes about how a $2.99 sack became a status symbol.

Is it so surprising though? Cult totes have existed for years, so much so that there is now an entire black market for Sézane’s ‘totes with purchase’ (bags that are given away free instore but can sell for more than £30 on resale sites). See also the success of Anya Hindmarch’s bag for Boots and that most bourgeois of It-bags, the Daunt Books tote. The fact is, we all have baggage and a mini cross-body doesn’t cut it.

Practicality aside, the tote continues to be a favourite way to say something about ourselves. Not so long ago, there were few other ways to instantly and cheaply pledge allegiance to a particular brand, cause, coffee bean or festival. Your options were a baseball cap or slogan T-shirt – which only worked if you wanted to position yourself as a Nike person, or an idiot.

As such, totes frequently provide celebrities with the opportunity to make a point in pap shots – if only that they, too, are relatable, tote-lugging civilians. Katie Holmes periodically gives mum brand Lands’ End a boost via its totes, while Kaia Gerber promotes her ‘book bag’ for her online book club Library Science.

That said, sometimes the perfect tote in capacity, weight and stiffness is not quite the image you aspire to. Perhaps the only bag that will accommodate your gym kit is a Waitrose number in ‘juco’ (Waitrose is above jute) bearing the word ‘Saucy’. Or maybe the one tote whose handles fit over your favourite puff sleeves is from Paddy Power. How you acquired this item remains a mystery. Less mysterious is which tote tribe you belong to…

The local bakery/butcher/wine shop/ gastropub tote

This is the one for anyone intent on advertising their neighbourhood (usually a London postcode beginning E, N or SE). You’re desperate to stress the sense of community, your favourite local shop and how much the area has changed in the past few years – coincidentally when you moved there. Yes, the bakery sourdough is £7 a loaf. But the owner knows your name, which is priceless. And unsurprising, given that you’re one of only six regulars.

The festival/gig tote

Well done, you made it to Oasis Live/Edinburgh Fringe/Wellnergy and have the tote to prove it. You’ve still got it! Despite spending half your life driving teenagers to a suburban station. For 2026, you’ve booked tickets to The Rest Is Fest to see your favourite podcasts IRL. #experienceoverthings #makememoriesnotmoney. Don’t give up.

The holiday tote

Aka ‘resort core’ (or, more accurately, ‘boasting’), this is the practice of parading a tote from The Newt In Somerset or Eden Rock St Barths at school drop-off, and hanging on to that Scott Dunn beach bag for dear life (IYKYK). Failing that, a Monoprix shopper nicked from a French Airbnb beats any Bag for Life.

The indie bookstore tote

Bookish bag carriers come in two tribes. Either you’re a millennial parent with a ‘Books Are My Bag’ tote, Birkenstock clogs and a small child called Ezra. Or you’re a Zoomer who views ‘reading’ as a sport or cute personality trait. Your holy grail is a London Review Of Books tote, for flatlays of annotated Natalia Ginzburg novels. Never mind that you consume most books on Kindle, so you can see (and post) how many you’ve read.

The coffee tote

The link between coffee geekery and canvas totes was cemented way back when people first started joking about hipsters, beards, craft beer and latte art. For a while the crème de la crema was a Blank Street Coffee bag, though this is now considered basic and should be replaced with Curious Roo for yoga gear, and a stronger Saint Espresso sack for your MacBook.

The cerebral tote

What could be nicer than everyone in Wholefoods knowing you read The Economist? Or, should you wish to broadcast your taste in subtitled films, try a Mubi tote. For art name-droppers, Hauser & Wirth is now too mainstream. The diligent snob favours a Damien Hirst tote from Heni.

The comedy tote

‘Always Carry Snacks’. ‘Full Of It’. ‘Groceries, 100% Not Tequila.’ ‘No diggity, bout to bag it up’. Give these people the benefit of the doubt. Assume that the LOL tote was not a choice, but rather a dubious freebie that was all they could find on leaving the house. Happens to the best of us.