Over a year ago, I stumbled upon the ScotteVest company and promptly set about haranguing Tom for the 18-pocket trench coat for my 30th birthday. It was to be, I thought, a classy entry into my fourth decade of travel. Since he’s a man who can take a hint (particularly one dropped on him in Acme-sized anvils) I did receive it and have used it on two trips now (Paris and Dusseldorf). I love it. It’s ridiculous. It’s absurd. And it makes me so happy.
However, it came with a caveat. “Since you can use your trench for all the items you’d normally put in your carry-on, I expect you to go on your girls’ weekend in February with just the trench and the bag you got in Morocco.”
…Hmm. Well. A long weekend in Nice and Monaco with just a coat and a bag. This is the bag, by the way. A perfectly ordinary handbag, no Tardis-like properties contained within.
“I can do that,” I mused to my friend. “I think, anyway. I’m sure I can!”
“Well,” said my friend. “You can’t do it dirty-traveler style. You actually need to bring multiple pairs of underwear.”
I didn’t tell her I was just planning to borrow hers when she was done using them.
KIDDING. That’s disgusting. But, honor slightly impugned, I realized she was right: I needed to fit multiple outfits for a warmish-but-not-that-warm destination in February, and it’s for a Girls’ Weekend. For those of you who are not closing in on double-digits in your partnership, let me enlighten you: you’ll probably dress better for your girlfriends than for the person legally obligated to put up with your nonsense ’til death or packing challenges do you part.
I used my birthday and Christmas gift money to get some cute day-to-night dresses, some cute walking shoe-to-evening flats, and decided to renounce the 12th Commandment: “Thou shalt not wear leggings as pants.” (The 11th is, obviously, pack multiple pairs of underwear and don’t borrow your friend’s, or even joke about it.) This is what I had to fit in the bag:
Clothes in a packing cube, toiletries in the government-allotted quart baggie, extra shoes, electronics charger (for point-and-shoot camera and Nexus 4, which contains all the media I like to travel with–the charger is a 4-port USB hub/current converter that came with four different electrical outlet prong configurations that snap on and off as needed, and it is easily the best $20 I’ve spent for our electronics), and an assortment of lady products that I shant be bringing home with me, if you follow. The packing list laid out like this:
1 tunic top
2 sheath dresses in wrinkle-free fabric
Undergarments for every day
Going on my body on the plane and in the coat: pair of black leggings (will double as pajama pants), black and silver TOMS, tunic top over tank top (tank top will be used as pajamas), a travel hot-air blowdryer/brush, passport, wallet, camera, other vital docs.
Even Maggie observed the process with incredulity. “Why? Why are you doing that?”
(Did I mention she asks “Why?” questions now? Every time she does my heart does cartwheels and I have to pause before answering because holy huge BFD Batman.)
“Because Daddy dared me.”
Then I had to explain what “dare” meant while clutching my satchel between my knees to force the center compartment shut, which is more breath than I’ve expended on exercise in some time. Here’s the final result:
Sure, it looks like it’s going to pop and I had to dig out the cross-body strap because there’s no way that sucker is going to fit on my shoulder, but there it is! Packing for a trip without my children is an odd experience (“Hmm, I don’t actually need to pack wipes…”) but it’s fun to try it now and then. I’ll miss them terribly but it will be fun to travel and have occasion to wear clothes that are not to be drooled on or used as a napkin.
…But if you hear about a woman in England who got stopped for carrying hair styling implements in her coat pocket, you’ll know where to send bail.