Happy Wednesday After Easter, fellow lazy Catholics. Today is His day! His glory. His righteousness: That of my personal savior, husband, and best friend, the ROMWE chicken crossbody bag:
Chicken Crossbody Bag, $11.95 at ROMWE
Yes, I have fallen tailfeather over waddle for this cult ROMWE bag and I don’t care who knows it. So much so, that I don’t even feel comfortable calling it a bag as it—he—transcends his utilitarian purpose of Holding My Shit, to bring me the kind of existential, deep-rooted unconscious fulfillment Carl Jung spent a lifetime chasing. And if you don’t believe me, the 300 pages filled with praise from almost 1,000 reviewers will. “[So] stupid i love it,” reads one; “SO CUTE I ALMOST CRYED WHEN I OPENED IT BECUSE IT SO PURE AND ADORBLE,” another; “I ABSOLUTELY LOVE THIS BAG. he is the love of my LIFE,” while “best purchase I’ve ever made. I’ve named him Daryl” rings particularly true.
Out of all the culty corners of the internet, from the ferocious Rae Dunn wine moms to the cursed Crab Chair (itself the torch bearer of the Home Depot Skeleton) this humble chicken holds his own. Why? Why does Julie Andrews sing from the mountaintops in The Sound of Music?
I learned about the Chicken Bag when a fellow VICE writer, Bettina Makalintal, tossed him into Slack. Not a moment later, I was in the check-out line, because, 1) duh, and because 2) at just over 10 bucks, this product seemed like a potentially good financial investment in my serotonin levels. I have spent more money on a fancy toast thing than I have on this precious Chicken. I have spent a lot of time in quarantine listening to Dido, and wearing swimsuit bottoms as underwear instead of doing laundry, because, Who would care?
Well, Chicken cares. He’s another set of eyes in your home and life, however anthropomorphic; a teddy bear disguised as a chicken that says, “L00k at m3! I’m dIfFeRent” in the stupidest, cutest, most sincere way.
The bag arrived not long after ordering, in a soft envelope, crudely shoved in my small mailbox—RUDE! But this was also a testament to how compact Chicken can be when its belly is empty. It’s very lightweight, has baby-hair-soft feet, and even sports a secret pocket in its right wing flap, just big enough to hold your Fuego Taki Hot Nuts. He goes with every outfit. He starts charming conversations with strangers. He adapts to every mood, and carries more than you would think. As another member of the Chicken cult reviewed, “I HAVE NO IDEA HOW I LIVED WITHOUT IT. WHEN YOU FILL HIMB UP ALL THE WAY HE GETS SO FAT”
But is the Cult of the Chicken Bag for you? Well. That depends on how much you love yourself—or want to.
The Chicken Crossbody Bag can be purchased at ROMWE.
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