We’ve all been there before: the excitement in the moment you find out a dress has pockets. An undeniably freeing feeling, as though style has finally conceded something to utility. That small delight is not trivial; it carries centuries of history stitched into a seam. For women, the presence, or absence, of pockets has never been just about fashion. It has been a measure of autonomy, a signal of whether society imagined her as a figure of independence or one in need of constant accompaniment.
Fashion historians note that men were granted abundant, conspicuous pockets from the 17th century onward, while women were left negotiating hidden pouches, ornamental flaps, or handbags so impractically small they bordered on satire. Though easily overlooked, the pocket’s history actually acts as a mirror of social roles. And as women pushed for greater equality in the public sphere, from suffrage to corporate leadership, the pocket became a symbol of self-possession.
In the late 1600s, women tied embroidered fabric pouches beneath their skirts. These tie-on pockets carried the tokens of daily independence: coins, scissors, perhaps even a clandestine letter. They were useful but deliberately private. To retrieve anything meant retreating into seclusion, reinforcing the notion that a woman’s possessions, like her influence, belonged out of sight.
By the 19th century, the silhouette of women’s fashion shifted. The empire waist left no room for pouches, and so the handbag emerged. During this time, it was a reticule, which was delicate and incapable of holding much more than a handkerchief. On the contrary, men’s garments grew ever richer with stitched-in compartments, signifying readiness for business and mobility.
It would take a visionary like Gabrielle “Coco” Chanel to stitch independence back into women’s wardrobes. Chanel’s genius was not only aesthetic but strategic: she borrowed unapologetically from men’s tailoring, embedding pockets into her skirt suits and jackets. A Chanel tweed jacket was not only known for its flattering design, but also for giving women, at last, a functional and visible design element within an otherwise elegant garment.
It also gave women the opportunity to put their hands in their pockets. The hand-in-pocket stance, so ordinary in menswear, became, in a way, radical when adopted by women. It altered posture and therefore presence. For the first time, women could embody nonchalance, ease, and even defiance and they were empowered to do so through the clothes they were wearing. Chanel understood that design details influence not just appearance but comportment, and comportment shapes power.
It was during the Second World War that the necessity of functional clothing was cemented for women. Factory uniforms, utility dresses, and trousers came equipped with practical storage elements. Yet as soon as Paris reclaimed its grip on postwar fashion, the pendulum swung back. Christian Dior’s “New Look” cinched waists and erased pockets, reinstating handbags as essential accessories. Utility still belonged to men as it had in many generations before, while women were enabled again to embody femininity.
Diana Vreeland, Vogue’s formidable editor, was famously irritated by handbags. Those “drags,” as she called them. As a result, in the 1960’s she proposed dedicating an entire issue of Vogue to the pocket. But this was quickly vetoed by her publishers. Handbag companies were among the magazine’s most powerful advertisers, so a celebration of pockets threatened an industry that profited from their absence.
This moment exposes a certain business logic that once underpinned women’s fashion. Pockets were not always excluded by accident, but they were sometimes withheld by design. Every missing pocket was a guaranteed handbag sale. For Vreeland, who understood both the artistry and economics of fashion, this was not just inconvenience but a missed cultural opportunity. She recognized that the pocket was not fabric but philosophy: a commitment to designing for women as autonomous actors rather than ornamental consumers.
The pocket has always been about more than storage. To own pockets is to own space, both literal and metaphorical. A handbag requires attention; it is carried in the hand, set down, guarded. A pocket, by contrast, integrates seamlessly into the body, freeing movement and mind.
Even in the 21st century, disparity lingers. Studies show women’s pockets remain smaller than men’s, often too shallow for something as basic as a phone. And while handbags remain objects of beauty and desire, women increasingly expect their clothes to carry function as well. Designers, especially a new generation of women, are answering with utility stitched into elegance, from exaggerated patch pockets to cargo-inspired tailoring on recent runways. The message is simple: garments must serve the lives women actually lead, combining style with substance rather than forcing a choice between the two.
Sources
Vesey, Chelsea. “The Politics of Pockets: Why Women’s Clothes Have so Few.” Vox, 19 September 2016.
