The downstream consequences of new laws can be difficult to predict. Legislation around the world to limit plastic shopping bag use has been triumphant in its stated aim. In Britain, which introduced a charge on plastic bags in 2015, there has been a 97% reduction in their use. But there has been another, less predictable consequence of these new laws: the Great Tote Bag Explosion. 

These are canvas or cotton bags, stronger than plastic and ripe for re-use. The history is somewhat murky. While bags made from natural fibers have been in use since medieval times, the tote got its name in the US in the 1940s, after L.L. Bean released a range of “Boat” and “Tote” bags, with the latter in the now-familiar boxy shape. 

Spotting the opportunity for a cheap bit of reusable marketing, brands began pumping totes out in extraordinary numbers. Some acquired cult status, like The New Yorker’s version which is emblazoned with large lettering; carrying it signals that you are both environmentally conscious and a subscriber. Win-win. If you use this to transport a shiny Apple laptop, for which it is perfectly sized, so much the better. 

The novelty of the tote bag has worn off—they have become a menace. Like the USB stick, the tote has become a default branded item. No publicity executive ever got fired for suggesting a tote. Our homes are awash in the things, which have bred like an invasive species that finds itself with no predators. The other day I counted them before a cull: There were 27. Totes from festivals and shops and conferences. Three from the Financial Times alone. Thanks to their aura of environmentalism, there is a taboo around throwing totes away. But research has found that they need to be used over 100 times before they match plastic bags for carbon waste. After selecting the best ones—the biggest, the strongest, the most comfortable handles—we donated the rest. It felt like letting go of baggage.