Chockablock

Building Block makes sculptural forms that double as handbags. They are geometric, postmodern-architectural, prioritizing geometric formalism over any strict function. Handles are semicircles; tassels are cylindrical. Cubes hang off boxes. They patina, which feels unholy, given how clean they seem to feel.

You take one look and know who this is for. They own an iPhone, no case, never more than a year old. They have a manicured Instagram. They crave sunlight and plain walls. They spent an extra $70 on the Comme des Garçons Converse because it has a little heart. One could imagine pairing a Building Block bag with a pair of Feit shoes, just to be matchy, but no, nobody will actually do this.

I have coveted Building Block’s phone sling for years. I have even bought one as a gift for someone else. I have never owned one myself. Why? I would never use it. It is not for me. The Building Block phone case holds 2 credit cards and a cell phone. That’s it. No case, no grip. I must come prepared. And yet I aspire to be the kind of person who can just walk outside with two credit cards and a cell phone, in pure defiance of god. Without everything else I carry, how would I survive in a feral, unforgiving world?

In response, I own another tote that I’ve written about here, by Dan Matsuda, and packed it full of a minor clown car of objects. My Matsuda tote contains a flashlight, knife, pen, notebook, lip balm, toothpicks, hand salve, hand sanitizer, mask, microcloth, AirTag, emergency USB drive, pen vape, and kleenex. It is 9.5”×5.5”×3”. My sunglasses are carabiniered to the side; my cell phone is secured in the webbing.