On 'The White Lotus' Season 3, Killer Designer Bags Don't Take a Vacation

Designer bags aren't name-checked anywhere on The White Lotus's season three cast list. But the cumulative screen time shared by Gucci, Loewe, Louis Vuitton, and Valentino bags in just the first two episodes practically designates them supporting characters.

Corporate workhorse Laurie, traveling with a trio of childhood friends (who treat her more like a third wheel than a travel companion), clings to the handle of her Loewe Squeeze bag like an emotional support accessory. Meanwhile, Jaclyn, now an A-list actress, tosses her three-digit Delvaux purses and oversized woven leather handbags around the Thailand resort like a run-of-the-mill canvas tote. (Because on her Hollywood budget, they are.) Then there's Victoria Ratliff, a Tar Heel matriarch who double-fists Lorazepam bottles and Gucci bags. She's the portrayal of a woman you can easily imagine choosing a $5,000 bamboo-handle crossbody just for her vacation and retiring it to the corner of her Chapel Hill manse's walk-in closet the minute she returns home.

According to White Lotus costume designer Alex Bovaird, the designer bags that deserve their own billing credits in each episode are not afterthoughts. Across all three seasons of The White Lotus, designer bags—both the conspicuous and the understated—have been used to enhance each characters. They’re more than just an alternative to the usual beach tote; they’re literal baggage that offers a glimpse into each character’s multi-faceted personal baggage.

"We don't do low-key all that much, and the show is a nice excuse to indulge my bag fetish," she tells me. "Our characters tend to signify their wealth with their accessories. The details are part of The White Lotus world."

In season two, for example, Jennifer Coolidge's Tanya McQuoid carried bright-pink Valentino bags in an ill-fated attempt to channel Monica Vitti. (In the end, she ended up more like a Godfather victim—RIP.) Meanwhile, Meghann Fahy's Stay-at-home mom, Daphne, carried an extra-spacious Louis Vuitton tote with the sort of colorful monogram one could guess her tech-bro husband picked out as an apology present for his streak of sordid behavior.

For the latest season, the drama relocates from the south of Italy to the shores of Thailand. The specific designers and silhouettes evolve to fit the script, too—while still providing the "technicolor fashion" that has defined the show. (Bovaird recognizes that the series isn't a beat-for-beat representation of how the one percent dress. It's more of a heightened interpretation adapted for the screen.)

And it all starts with the show's signature: an arrival by boat to the five-star resort with the clientele to match. Laurie's trio with Jaclyn (the actress) and Kate (an Austin "philanthropist" and trophy wife) are meant to resemble a "cohesive blonde blob," Bovaird says. "We wanted them to look almost identical." Almost being the operative word—since viewers soon find out that Carrie Coon's Laurie is ever-so-slightly on the outside looking in, even if her linen Zimmermann dress closely resembles the Alemais resortwear Jaclyn has on.

Although each designer bag is meant to stand out, they’re far from identical. Kate’s is a buttery yellow Delvaux featuring a clasp that subtly echoes the hardware on Jaclyn’s pricier Valentino. In episode one, their nearly matching bags hint at their closeness. Meanwhile, Laurie carries an outlier, the Loewe Squeeze—a new style chosen to signal she’s keeping up with what her friends might consider cool back home.

Then there’s the preppy counterpart Victoria Ratliff, who looks as if she hauled her husband and three kids straight from Sunday church service to a Thai beach. “At the outset, we wanted the family to look completely 'of-a-piece' as well,” Bovaird explains, “as if they’d just stepped off the pages of a Ralph Lauren catalog.”

Like Laurie, Victoria keeps her designer bags close at all times—never quite settled in—and avoids relying on anything the resort provides. “Victoria never lies by the pool or steps on the beach; she stays out of the sun and prefers massages and treatments,” Bovaird explains. “So she mainly carries her small Gucci or Louis Vuitton bags.” As for giving up her phone or bag, as a resort employee prescribes in episode one, to immerse herself in the environment? Forget it.

Throughout fashion history, people have clung to designer bags to signal their security and wealth—a practice that dates back to 19th-century aristocrats flaunting their fortunes with Louis Vuitton’s first steamer trunks. Today’s vast luxury market only amplifies this rich-girl inclination to travel with status bags, whether you come from old money or new. The White Lotus shows how characters’ high-end totes speak volumes, but some bags resonate more loudly than others.

"The ladies have a Mary Poppins-style suitcase with magical, never-ending bag choices," Bovaird notes, which you'll recognize by the third episode on Sunday, March 2. Jaclyn and Kate have a more extensive and quieter bag wardrobe than Laurie. With her singular Loewe bag, "Laurie is catching up with her friends just a bit," the costume designer says. She hasn't gamed out all her bag choices like her meticulous friend Kate or celebrity Jaclyn." But by episode two, she does dabble in a hint of variety—via a "gorgeous graphic Hermès canvas tote."

Part of the show’s genius is how each character handles a designer bag—some clutch them like pearls, others drape them casually over a chair or toss them on the floor—revealing as much about their owners as the labels do. Laurie’s insecurity about fitting in is evident in her white-knuckled squeeze grip, pressing the straps deep into her shoulders. She’s desperate to keep up, flashing her Loewe and Hermès everywhere she goes, though Kate and Jaclyn see right through the overcompensation. And confident Hollywood darling Jaclyn's bags always match her outfits precisely. Still, they're an afterthought—not a sub-in for self-assurance.

In the final scene of the first episode, Victoria Ratliff’s daughter, Piper, listens to an audiobook featuring the monk she’ll be visiting for her senior thesis. “Identity is a prison,” he intones, “and no one is spared this prison.” If that’s true, then designer bags the White Lotus characters cling to aren’t just symbols of wealth—they’re handcuffs, chaining them to selves they can’t escape even on vacation.