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The first fight my wife and I ever got into as parents happened before our daughter was even born. While pregnant, my wife ordered a run-of-the-mill diaper bag on Amazon. As a gearhead, I was horrified when it arrived. Sure it had all the bells and whistles you might want in a diaper bag: an extra wide opening, insulated bottle pockets, and storage galore. But it also indicated to any casual observer that its sole purpose was lugging around baby stuff. I didn't want to walk around looking like an ordinary dad!
If only Tracksmith's Olmsted pack existed in those days. My daughter is now five, but our son is two, and my backpack is everything. I'm constantly shifting from being a teacher to being an athlete to being a dad, and I need to somehow stuff all of those identities into a pack. Snacks for the kids, my earbuds and wallet and keys, a pair of shoes or a diaper or a change of clothes—it all goes in there at some point.
Tracksmith launched in 2014 as a bespoke brand for runners (you can read our interview with founder Matt Taylor here), and their classic aesthetic and high quality apparel has been a fixture in my wardrobe. Little did I know (or they know, for that matter), that they would one day accidentally design the ideal diaper bag for dads.
We like
- 12 liter stowaway compartment is perfect for diapers and wipes
- Pockets galore for all the little things
- Zippers that can be seamlessly operated with one hand
- Streamlined, handsome appearance
We don't like
- Straps might not stand up to a lot of weight
- The 18 liter total storage can be limited
- No insulated bottle pocket
The Hidden Compartment
The genius of the Olmsted as a multi-purpose diaper bag is the 12 liter stowaway compartment at the bottom with two small venting holes. Since Tracksmith is a running brand, it is designed to hold running shoes or sweaty clothes.
It is also the perfect spot for diapers and wipes. In most diaper bags the generous main compartment would fit plenty of diapers and wipes, but each time I need something else (pacifier, band-aid, toy…) I have to shove those out of the way and root around for what I actually want. The stowaway compartment is right underneath the main compartment and is accessed by a zipper that wraps around the bottom third of the bag.
I typically fill it with a sleeve of diapers, a packet of wipes, and a change of clothes. But I might not need any of these items on an outing, so tucking them away in their own compartment and accessing them only as needed is ideal. The other bonus: if we end up with a stinky diaper and nowhere to dispose of it, it can go right back in the stowaway compartment, complete with venting holes, until we find a proper receptacle.
Pockets, Pockets, Pockets
When on the move with your little ones there is a staggering amount of things you might need to access. I sometimes feel like a cut man in a boxing match, ready at a moment’s notice to supply water, close a wound, or procure a wipe. If all of this stuff I need exists in a jumble at the bottom of the backpack I won’t be able to do my job in a timely fashion, leading to the parenting version of a KO—a public meltdown.
Luckily the Olmsted has an organizational sleeve in the front with an abundance of pockets. There are five separate pockets within the sleeve, so you can divide and conquer the domestic detritus. There are two small pockets with an elastic closure, two small zippered pockets, and a longer zippered pocket. Everything from my earbuds to keys to sunglasses to snacks to pacifiers goes here. A place for everything and everything in its place.
The Olmsted also has a water bottle sleeve on each side. When you have two kids this is a key feature, as some backpacks stop at a single sleeve.
Other Features
There’s a line in the 80s classic Fast Times at Ridgemont High (which you might remember if you are a dad) in which cool cat Mike Damone, offering advice on getting the girl to the nervous Mark Ratner, says, “Don’t just walk in. Move across the room.” For some reason the zippers on the Olmsted make me think of that line. They don’t just unzip. They move across the backpack so seamlessly they can be operated with one hand. This can actually be a crucial maneuver for a dad, like say if one hand is plugging a bloody nose while the other is reaching for the wipes. These zippers are smooth.
The Olmsted is also weather resistant, which is great for both light downpours or spilled milk. And the main compartment is plenty spacious for the essentials, without being so big that we’ll fill it up with random things that will sink to the bottom and crumble and form a mysterious layer of crud.
My wife and I have since gotten over that initial parental gear dispute (the copious needs of our kids have rendered that little spat ancient history). Yet the satisfaction of having the right tool for the job still gives me a little hop in my step anytime we’re heading out and I grab the Olmsted. On the inside, I know it carries everything we need and nothing we don’t. And on the outside, I still get to pretend that maybe, just maybe, I’m free for a few minutes and simply out for a run.
