The Lost Art of Packing

I’ve been making the trip to Florida ever since I was a child and packing has been an evolutionary experience. When I was a 12, a cousin of mine arrived at our hotel with three large suitcases filled with everything she owned. She was there for the weekend, but the airline allowed three bags per person and that’s what she brought. “You never know what you’ll feel like wearing”, she cooed to her mother’s delight, her breast swelling with pride at her Jewish American Princess logic. My mother thought she was nuts. I thought she was so cool. It took me years to realize she was an idiot. Such extravagance never occurred to me. Plus, at the time, I’d have had to throw in all my schoolbooks and stuffed animals to fill 3 suitcases and even then I’d have room to shop. But her suitcases were loaded with items packed in haste, wrinkled, twisted, like I’d seen in the movies when some frantic person would scoop up all their possessions, dump them in the suitcase, slam the lid and lift it like it weighed nothing.

I was taught the “proper” way to pack. My mother packed on the assumption that no other city or country had heard of an iron. There was easily twice as much tissue paper than clothing in my mother’s suitcase. Each item was carefully laid out and folded with tissue paper so it wouldn’t crease; each layer was perfectly even and separated by even more tissue paper so it wouldn’t move. There would be no mingling of layers in my mother’s suitcase. Do you remember when the Miss America contestant packed a suitcase in the “Talent” portion? My mother took notes.

My own packing practices fall somewhere in between these two extremes. First of all, current airline luggage rules make it impossible to be as whimsical as my extravagant cousin. Half of what she carried would land her in a pat-down with all her worldly possessions on display as bemused TA workers tried to figure out “What’s this for?” and “What do you do with this?” Secondly, they charge by the bag now with extra levies for weight and public humiliation in the labeling of your bag as “Heavy” if you actually pack anything inside. Remember Samsonite? Those bags tipped the scales when they were empty! And that was in the days before wheels and straps, when traveling was not for the faint of heart! Don’t you love it in the movies when the heroine fills her bag with whatever pleases her and then lifts it off the bed as if it were stuffed with feathers? Do you know that moment when you try to lift your suitcase and find you are rooted to the spot?

I start packing days in advance. I lay out all the clothes that fit, which immediately eliminates half my wardrobe. Then I put back everything that is weather-wrong. Then I put back everything I have two of. Then I put back everything of an outstanding color than might require special accessories. Then I pick out neutral accessories. Then I realize I have nothing to wear… during the day, that is; I am fine for dinner. So I go back to the drawers and pick out the clothing I will end up living in except for dinner. Then I put back half of the dinner clothes.

If I am not flying, this is the point where I add the toiletries. If I am flying, there is no longer any point in bringing toiletries as they will be confiscated. I am amazed to learn how many commonplace toiletries in western society can be used to make a bomb. No wonder bombers always look so dirty!.. besides the insanity factor.

I start putting my items in the carry-on-sized bag, carefully filling up the spaces between the bars of the extendable handle with socks, underwear and items that can be rolled up until I get the first flat layer that would make my mother proud. Next come the flat items; the things I don’t want to wrinkle. (Yeah, right.) They are followed by the shoes. Since I won’t be checking it in, my almost empty bag gets filled up with things to read, writing implements in case I get an idea ((Yeah, right), cards, and my laptop because Wi-Fi is free at the airport and God-forbid I should get stuck without something to do! And “voila”, the bag with almost nothing in it suddenly weighs a ton. But it’s on wheels and I’m not checking it in so who cares. Once I arrive at my destination I unpack and realize I brought nothing to wear. So I go shopping. Ah, vacation!