Review: Timbuk2 Lug Knapsack

The name “Timbuk2” has become synonymous with moderately-priced, high-quality bags. Their iconic messengers are emblematic of a place and time, a part of the 2000s Silicon Valley wardrobe that was as ubiquitous as a hoodie and a pair of Chuck Taylors. To not like a Timbuk2 bag is outrageous, like not liking cheap burritos, or sitting in sunny parks. And yet here we are. As much as it pains me to say this, I simply don’t like their Lug Knapsack.

I suspect that part of the problem is that Lug collection was put together as a bag designed specifically for women. But as a woman, I find that aside from fit issues, I appreciate many of the same qualities that men (or non-binary people) do. Women’s gear should marry form and function as well as unisex offerings, and here the Lug collection falls short. The design decisions in play just don't add up to a cohesive, high-quality product.

It doesn’t make any sense to use a heavy-duty sailcloth fabric and pair it with zippers that aren’t waterproof. Either the bag can handle the rain, or it can’t. Why protect the interior pocket, but not the front pockets? And if using these zippers was a style decision, why are they so huge and clunky? Teeth this size are doomed to get broken if the bag gets overstuffed.

For $139, surely a higher-quality magnetic clip could have been found to close the top of the bag. And why does the drawstring loop not have a locking clasp? I almost pulled the strings out of the leather holder multiple times. Why is there only one tiny neoprene pocket, and why is it black and almost impossible to find in the bag’s dark interior? Is that really for my phone? Where’s my phone?

If reducing cost was an issue, couldn’t the designers have sacrificed the bag’s decorative webbing? What about the useless webbing on the top flap? And does anyone, let alone a commuter, use a daisy chain anymore? Having a water bottle clank around on the outside of your bag is annoying while on a hike in the middle of the woods, let alone on a bus or light rail. Think of your fellow man before you decide to clip your stinky sneakers on the outside of your bag during rush hour.

A word on the fabric: I reached out to Timbuk2 to ask what the fabric was. While they would only answer that it is premium proprietary sailcloth fabric, our in-house sailor consultant said that the material looked like Dacron. It is true that Dacron is used to make sails. But not all Dacron is created equal. In this particular instance, the Lug's fabric lacking the protective coating that normally makes sailcloth so durable.

Which is to say, that claiming that a bag is made from premium sailcloth fabric—when no company would use this particular fabric to make sails—is a little like touting that McDonald’s burgers are made from 100% beef. While that statement is not technically inaccurate, it’s not remotely the same thing as a Grade-A Wagyu ribeye.

On the plus side, the bag handily performed through all our tests. I appreciated the bag’s scaled-down size, just big enough to fit a 13” MacBook, a jacket, a water bottle and a lunch bag. The air mesh shoulder straps were comfortable on a brief hike. The fabric easily repelled a 10-minute shower dunking (only the zippers leaked). When I filled the bag with 20 pounds of weights and kicked it around a parking lot, the fabric withstood the abuse. The Lug Backpack didn’t wipe clean, but its looks are only improved with a little extra patina.

That durability is par for the course for Timbuk2, though. For my money, I would opt for almost any other one of their bags, preferably one with their signature clean lines and functional details (I'm partial to the company's tried-and-true messenger bags, like the $79 Tres Colores). While I don’t disagree that there are a lot of ways that a woman’s bag can be different from a man’s. I’m just not sure that fashion zippers, buckles, and webbing fit the bill.