Packing Hell

Off to New York tomorrow. Very exciting... except that the weather forecast is predicting every possible variety of weather. All kinds of heat and cold and sun and rain in every combination available. Which means: packing hell.

Yes, it's one of those trips where I need to take *all* my clothes. Warm weather clothes, cold weather clothes, day clothes, evening clothes, extra clothes for changing into when I've been out all day in the rain and got drenched, light coat, warm coat, and shoes - comfortable shoes, evening shoes, shoes for changing into when I've been out all day in the rain and got drenched, lighter shoes for unexpected days of nice weather when I don't feel like wearing waterlogged boots... I am already getting a second suitcase out of the attic.

I don't know when or why, but somewhere in my upbringing it was instilled in me that the highest of all human virtues is traveling light. I travelled round Australia for four months when I was 19 with two pairs of shorts, a pair of leggings and three tops, which made my backpack nice and easy to carry but left me with a set of holiday photographs I can't bear to look at. (The leggings especially: bad then, should not be back in fashion now.) I'm staying in the same place the whole time I'm in New York so all I need to do is to get there and leave my clothes, and then pack them again and bring them back, and as I alone am carrying my case - as, indeed my case(s) are on wheels, and therefore will barely have to be lifted at all - it really should not matter if I bring twice as many outfits as there are days that I'm going to be in town, and every pair of shoes that I own, except the Crocs which are only for Africa trips and gardening. It is nobody's business but my own. And yet, should that be the case (no pun intended) I would be filled with shame. A worthwhile human being should surely be able to fit all New York essentials into small jaunty handluggage bag, and still leave room for a laptop, three novels and a hairdryer. I have still not recovered from going skiing with a friend who managed to get her entire kit into her boot bag with her boots (skis, to be fair, not included).

Being a heavy packer in my mind equates with being some kind of indecisive, profligate floozy, the kind of person who can't answer the door to the postman without a full face of make-up and six-inch heels. I don't think that's the kind of person I am (my postman is highly familiar with my entire range of nightwear). I'm not even sure that kind of person exists outside of sexist rhetoric. So why do I feel that way just because I can't fit a week's clothing into a clutch purse?

I blame the concept fashion journalists have been trying to drum into us all these years: the capsule wardrobe. These are the same fashion journalists who insist that you can't wear the same shaped trouser for more than three months without becoming a social outcast (you're still in skinnies? Dear god in heaven! where are your harem pants?) and yet somehow they also unironically tell is that all we need in life - and in New York - are 'two pairs of trousers, a dress or a skirt for more formal occasions, a well-fitting jacket, a coat, a casual knitted jacket (or smart cardie) and two pairs of shoes - one pair of flats and one with a little heel'. That's a list I have just copied and pasted from Susie Faux, inventor of the capsule wardrobe. Faux means false, people. I think she is mocking us.

Still don't believe me? Here is a typically smug piece about capsule holiday packing from The Telegraph.

I recently went away for a long weekend with a small, half-empty case. I took a pair of black linen trousers, a pair of tailored stone cropped trousers, a handful of lightweight tops (cotton peasant tops for the day and slinky silk Lanvin and Marni tops for the evenings, which collectively packed down to the size of a washbag), one pair of gold Musa sandals for the evenings and flip-flops for the day.

Does anybody now not hate this person?

This is what I am currently thinking of taking to New York for one week:

One pair skinny jeans, one pair straight jeans, one pair cropped jeans, one skirt which can be worn with or without tights, two dresses which can be worn with or without tights, at least six tops (three smart, three casual), three jumpers which can be layered for different levels of warmth, coat, scarf, umbrella, one pair flat boots, one pair high heeled boots, one pair flat sandals in case of nice weather, one pair high heeled sandals for evening wear which can be worn with tights, pyjamas, and a vast mountain of pants, socks, tights and bras.

It's a capsule wardrobe. Nobody said anything about the size of the capsule.