There’s a kind of poetry in the way we’ve all collectively decided that small bags are, frankly, over. Too delicate. Too curated. Too “I only carry my keys and confidence.” This season, the pendulum has swung hard in the opposite direction—toward the Maxi Bag, that unapologetically oversized emblem of chaos and chic practicality.

It’s everywhere. From Acne Studios’ slouchy, soft leather sacks that look like they belong to a sculptor’s girlfriend in Montmartre (half paintbrushes, half existential dread) to Burberry’s sleek, structured carryalls that feel like they were made for the kind of woman who has a driver and a to-do list that could kill a mortal. There’s volume again. There’s weight. There’s permission to carry.

And not just physically. There’s something symbolic—emotional even—about this return to “more.” After years of micro-bags and minimalist fantasies, fashion has remembered that life isn’t that neat. Life spills. And this season, we’re dressing for it.

Chanel led the charge with quilted giants that feel like heirlooms reimagined—classic, yes, but with the proportions dialed up to absurdity (and delight). I swear I saw one that could fit a small dog and a midlife crisis, no problem. Coperni continued its love affair with geometry via the Maxi Swipe, which is basically a math problem turned into a statement piece—clean, futuristic, slightly smug, and irresistible.

Then there’s Gucci, always the maximalist romantic, rolling out logo-laden totes that toe the line between self-parody and self-awareness. You know the vibe: “I’m in on the joke, but I still want everyone to see the monogram.” And Max Mara, of course, delivered its signature camel-hued classics—bags that look like they’ve seen the world, that could hold your laptop and your secrets without so much as a wrinkle.

Isabel Marant’s versions are softer, messier—bohemian in that perfectly studied way, like she just threw her life in a bag and caught a flight to Paris. Chloé’s are earth-toned and sensual, all curved lines and tactile leathers; the kind of bag that looks at home in both a countryside café and the front row at Fashion Week.

Meanwhile, Stella McCartney is out here (as always) reminding us that ethical can still be elevated. Her oversized Falabella bags hit that rare balance—cool, responsible, a little self-righteous in the best possible way. And Alexander McQueen, never one to shy away from drama, took the trend and gave it teeth: hard-edged, structured, darkly romantic. The kind of bag that says, “Yes, I’m late—but I’m fascinating.”

And honestly? That’s the energy. The Maxi Bag isn’t just an accessory this season—it’s a survival strategy. A wearable metaphor for modern womanhood: juggling a dozen identities, all of them stuffed into one gloriously oversized vessel.

Mine is full of nonsense. Crushed receipts, half-eaten granola bars, lipsticks I no longer wear, one rogue toy car. And still—somehow—it feels powerful. Like I’m participating in a collective exhale. We’ve stopped pretending to travel light. We’ve stopped editing our chaos down to something photogenic.

The trend this Autumn/Winter isn’t just about size—it’s about substance. It’s about living visibly, imperfectly, abundantly. It’s about saying: yes, I’m carrying too much. Yes, it’s heavy. But I look damn good doing it.

So go ahead. Pack your life into leather. Sling it over your shoulder like it’s armor. Let it hang, let it drag, let it mean something. Because this season, fashion isn’t asking us to shrink—it’s giving us room to expand.

Would you like me to tailor this for a specific outlet (like Vogue, The Gentlewoman, or your fashion magazine’s voice)? I can adjust the rhythm and references slightly to align with its tone and target reader.