This Nifty Tote Has Turned All My Dates Into Picnics

I was en route to the checkout line when I saw it. It looked like a hipweekender bag, with a sleek gray exterior, saddle-colored “leather” carry handles, and a neon-green contrast zipper. I looked inside, and discovered it came with an eight-piece stackable-container set cradled within the bag’s insulating material, which keeps hot things hot and cold things cold. If there was one thing I didn’t need, it was a picnic tote, but then I fell in love.

Ever since, basically every date with my girlfriend has been some sort of picnic. We went to one of those paint-and-drink wine nights, and I packed a whole pig’s worth of cured meats within each container. Another day, on a hike through the Barton Creek Greenbelt, I slung the tote over my shoulder to transport the beer and sandwiches and grapes inside. I keep trying to schedule abeachweekend, mainly so I can bring along the picnic tote yet again.

I’d become resigned tocoolersfor toting food on picnics, those awful, bright, plastic things that never inspired me tojuliennecarrots or prep ants-on-a-log. And my Tupperware couldn’t interlock like an anal-retentive Megazord the way these stackers could. Now, I’m inspired. Granted, it’s maybe not the most collapsible bag for closet storage, but it’s not precious — it can brave the campsite — and yet it’s not solely utilitarian, either. There is something about the tote’s aesthetic, which has the antique quaintness of a doctor’s bag coupled with the bold visibility of cycling gear, that makes it the perfect carrier for our modern times.