I left for three days.... here is how I prepared my suitcase 😂
My suitcase is preparing for Fashion Week, a tropical storm, an emergency gym session, two elegant dinners and a possible change of identity.
Apparently, we are not going on the same trip.
I have read the itinerary.
It says: arrival, dinner, one full day, another dinner, departure.
Very simple.
My suitcase reads the same itinerary and sees possibilities.
What if dinner is more elegant than expected?
What if breakfast requires a look?
What if there is a pool, despite the hotel website making absolutely no mention of one?
What if somebody suddenly announces a cocktail party?
What if the temperature drops by twelve degrees?
What if I decide to become the sort of woman who goes running before breakfast?
That last possibility has never occurred during an actual trip, but I continue to pack for her.
She owns excellent sportswear.
She simply never leaves the suitcase.
The most dangerous words in packing are not “excess baggage.”
They are: just in case.
One dress for dinner.
Another dress, just in case.
A jacket in case the restaurant is cold.
A different jacket in case the first one is too serious.
Flat shoes for walking.
Heels for dinner.
Backup heels in case the first heels suddenly become impossible.
And one pair of shoes that works beautifully provided nobody expects me to walk anywhere.
Then come the outfits that do not belong to any identifiable part of the trip.
A silk blouse that might be useful.
Useful for what, exactly? Nobody knows...
But it folds well and appears to have important international responsibilities, so it comes with me.
There is also always one completely unrealistic outfit.
The outfit for the imaginary version of the trip.
The version in which I wake up early, look immaculate at breakfast, spend the afternoon somewhere glamorous and move effortlessly into the evening without changing six times or losing an earring.
This woman is extremely organised.
I have never met her.
Still, I pack her clothes.
My beauty case is another matter entirely.
For three days away, I apparently require enough skincare to open a small spa.
There are products I rarely use at home that suddenly become indispensable the moment I cross a border.
Masks.
Serums.
Oils.
Creams for highly specific areas of the face.
And several tiny bottles whose purpose I will only remember after returning home.
Then there are the cables.
Nobody knows what all the cables charge.
Some may belong to devices I no longer own.
But leaving one behind feels reckless.
So they travel together in a tangled group, like a small electrical family with unresolved issues.
By the time I close the suitcase, I have packed fourteen possible lives.
During the trip, I will wear approximately four things.
One outfit will be repeated because it feels good.
The emergency gym clothes will return untouched, still folded with the quiet dignity of people who expected nothing.
At least two pairs of shoes will never leave the room.
And I will almost certainly buy something new, creating a luggage problem that did not previously exist.
Unpacking later will feel less like putting clothes away and more like examining evidence.
Why did I bring this?
Where did that come from?
Did I genuinely believe I would need three white shirts for one weekend?
Of course I did.
Because packing is not about predicting what will happen.
It is about being prepared for everything that almost certainly will not.
So yes, for three days away, I need one suitcase, five pairs of shoes and the confidence that an unexpected gala could begin at any moment.
It probably won’t.
But if it does, I will be ready.
My suitcase has more plans than I do.
And honestly, I admire its ambition.
Silvia
Add comment
Comments