In different times this is how I put down my rhymes, I have keys but they open no locks, I have space but nowhere to put a box what am I?

Depending on who you ask, I’m very lucky. Worn only by some of the fiercest warriors and runners. I’m nailed on, not tied tight. I protect without covering skin. I face the ground, yet bring good fortune.

I can hold your kitchenware, your collectibles, or, if you prefer, your politicians.

I make bugs rather snug, and can cradle your mug, while moving me requires quite the lug. I can cover a hole once dug, with just a quick little tug, to hide your most precious nug.

I stretch but never walk, hold outfits yet never wear them. I work best outdoors, hate rainstorms, and leave cloth hanging when my job is done. What am I?