On Hooks and Loops

Up late the other night, reading reviews of four-hundred-wing-wang backpacks I am absolutely not going to buy, as one does, I finally found someone who agrees with one of my longest-standing Bag Design Gripes: setting up a layout that rubs the hook side of hook-and-loop fastener against Cordura, or any other fabric with a woven texture, ensures that the fabric will get chewn up by the hooks.

As he writes:

One thing was disappointing; the extremely large, long panels of velcro on the flaps of this bag catch and pull at the nylon used on the borders at the top of the slash pockets and the very edge of the foam back-panel. This makes these parts of the bag look fuzzy with extremely thin loose threads.

However, this pioneer hero far surpassed my humble efforts by not merely diagnosing a vexing problem but actually then sallying forth and essaying a by-god solution: thus

I painted the edge of the slash pockets with Silnet silicone sealer; looks awful, but it’s not showing any signs of wearing further than it has. Functionally, it’s fine, but aesthetically, it’s a knock.

That solution is a tiny bit upsetting, in that it involves slathering hundreds of dollars of equipment with some kind of ... bag chapstick. A previous solution I have seen a few places, probably most notably from SF's own Rickshaw Bags, is to cover the hook-and-loop fastener with something, so that it can't snag stray fabric. Nor, in that case, can it ... fasten, which seems a fairly difficult trade to agree to. But, in Rickshaw's case, they employ strange and troubling magic the spooky action at a distance known as "magnetism" to substitute at least some attraction in the absence of the covered fastener's presence. Witness:

This of course will be nowhere near as strong a closure. Another, then, imperfect solution to the problem of hook/loop material. Perhaps the true solution, as no less than Margret Atwood has suggested, is to be more careful with one's relationship with hooks and eyes:

[you fit into me]

you fit into me
like a hook into an eye

a fish hook
an open eye

—Fat, who wishes to sacrifice zero more sweater sleeves unto the power-hungry maw of front-of-bag hooks