In the end, self-consciousnessness won

By Lester Fang

I know the jokes that have already been made about Balenciaga’s clutches in the likeness of chip bags. At first, the bags—all leather—were conceived (is that even a right word?) with Lays, the American potato chip company that can be traced back to 1932. It was first shown at the Balenciaga spring/summer 2023 presentation—dubbed the “mud show”—that was opened by the then-still-problem-free Kanye West. Despite the apparent success of the collaboration, Balenciaga dropped Lays. They later released their own single-brand chip bags. Either way, those clutches generated, unsurprisingly, ridicule but, concurrently, demand. They were soon sold out. You can still find one or two at Vestaire Collective for a mind-boggling US$7,414, used.

Even at the original price of more than S$2,000, I could not see myself part with four figures to buy something I know I won’t use after I stepped out of the store. So when I saw this at Fairprice’s more atas sister, Fineness, I thought I could give it a shot. As a bag, I mean. This was the Lay’s Gift Pack, and it was huge. It was definitely not usable as a clutch, being as large as potato sack! Holding the bag with my fingers at the top, it reached my ankle. I thought that was great as it meant I could store more. And it was not sold empty. It contained actual chips, 420 grams of original-cut slices made in China of real potato and deep-fried in non-hydrogenated fat, and flavoured with three additives, one identifed by a chemical name, the other two by numbers.

And it cost a mere S$29.90. Too much to pay for chips, but I got a bag I could use. Like the Balenciaga, my large Lays came with a zipper too, only it’s like those on zip-lock bags. It is made of aluminum laminated with polypropylene (a thermoplastic polymer) and it turn out to crumple easily. By the time I emptied its contents and fill it with what I usually bring out with me—an umbrella, a pair of shades, a small battery pack, and a portable electric fan, the bag looked used. In any case, I carried it in place of my usual tote, and thought I’d go to the neighbourhood mall. People were looking. As I said, it was big and it was conspicuous. A chap smiled at me and said, “That’s a lot of chips.” I could only muster a “yeah.” At the entrance of the mall, a boy of no older than six, pointing to my bag, said to his mother, “You say I cannot eat chips, how come he can have that big one?” Time to turn back. My fingers were aching anyway.