On the bed, completely wrinkled and exhausted from 14 days in Europe lay a blue dress, four sweaters, two pairs of pants, three pairs of shoes that were compressed but still had some life left in them, and a couple jackets. In all, enough items to fill a suitcase that Delta will gladly check for $23 (they made $1.26 billion in fees alone during the first three quarters of 2010). These garments had endured a long journey: a flight to NY with connection to Heathrow, then off to Paris via the Chunnel, a nice drive along both the south of France and 4 stops at major cities in Italy.
When said articles left on their trip, to accompany my then girlfriend, Alison, they were the envy of all the other clothes still hanging, mostly, on wooden hangers, in the closet. Some other shirts and pants couldn't exactly hear all the pre-trip commotion as they were still wrapped in cellophane and on wire with cardboard "cape" hangers from the cleaners, a sign that they were of superior fabric and quality and had to be professionally cleaned, but they could certainly see what was going on. Most had been through this process before and, while it was fun to get out and see how they looked when held up to a mirror in front of Alison, they knew the odds of making the trip were slim. The items which saw weekly wear, and who had seen one too many American Idol airings, empathized with the others and told them stories of great singers who never even got to the final round. It was brutal out there in the world and being retired to the closet wasn't such a bad thing. The only garment who looked forward to these 'once a year' trips were the sarong and the oversized straw hat; they always got picked.
The packing process for Alison spanned well over two hours over two successive nights. Random items were selected, put on the bed, and mixed and matched with other coordinates. Some stayed on the bed and matched with others. Some quickly were returned back to their original spots in the far reaches of the dark and quiet closet. Oh so close to getting picked, but not quite. I like to think clothes, if they could voice the thoughts I think they might have, would compare being picked for a trip or outing like this would be the same feelings many of us experienced in school while teams were being selected for kickball.
There is some nervous tension and a few sighs of relief. In the end there were just enough clothes to make Alison's suitcase hard to close. It was the familiar scene of one person sitting on the top side of the laid flat suitcase while the other party zipped and clamped with the immediacy and professional fervor of the oshiya; trained personnel in Tokyo responsible for "pushing" people onto the loaded subway trains during rush hour.
I packed my bag the night before our trip without incident or the need to try on my own clothes.
When the trip ended and all that ventured out returned safely home, there was much anticipation on the part of clothing left behind to hear stories about the far off lands from the fortunate garments who made the grade. Many of the clothes had originated in China, Taiwan, and Turkey, but few had seen Europe (except a few of the ones still in cellophane). There must be so much to tell the others -- especially the ones wrapped in cellophane! Historically the sarong had the best stories usually ending with , "then I was tossed to the floor as things heated up. After that point I could only see under the bed."
The days spent sightseeing, the Eiffel Tower, dinner at Cannes, the ruins in Rome, the submarine in Capri. The problem was that all the items sitting on the bed had never seen the outside of the suitcase. They simply had not been worn. My girlfriend was trying to decide whether they needed to be washed, too, or hanging them up would restore some zest that would replace the wrinkles.
It amazes me how we view travel and what we deem essential. While here at home it's normal to wear one pair of jeans for a few days, either consecutively or not, in between washes. Why, when we travel, do we feel the need for new pants every day? Or more than one outfit in one day? Don't we realize that we have to pack those items, carry them to the car, to the airport, to the hotel, to the taxi, etc, all the way back to where they came?
Many years ago I went with the same girlfriend to a resort in Jamaica and we stayed in the 'non-textile' side (clothing not allowed). Apart from being a little shy at first, I loved that I only came back with the clothes on my back that I wore to the resort. It proved my theory that all I really needed was me and a few personal care essentials. She still took two bags.
As a general travel rule I only bring one carry-on (if you're looking for gear for the light traveler, check out Malcom Fontier ). I don't see the need to bring more than four days worth of clothes. The key is to layer and, if you need a jacket, wear it or carry it on the plane. Don't pack it. There are drugstores and shops in most cities. I just spent ten days in Thailand this month and, twice during the trip, had someone wash, iron, and fold all my clothes for 50 baht per kilo (about $.75 per pound). I arrived home with only the clothes on my back needing to be washed.
I know a lot of people travel during this holiday time. Please take more than a minute and think about what you really need to bring. Think about your last trip or vacation. Did you over pack? Do you even remember what you wore? Do you remember lugging heavy suitcases in traffic, while it rained, and being frustrated? If you don't like the idea of carrying your weekly groceries from the car to your kitchen, then consider carrying the groceries to France and back. That's essentially what you are doing if you pack clothes that you don't wear on your trip; you're lugging them around for no reason.
So this holiday please think twice before you pack once. The clothes don't make the person. You do.