Anna Collins

A View from a Broad
The Smart Art of Packing

By Anna Collins

I hate packing. Hate it. I never know exactly what to bring so I always wind up bringing too much, yet end up wearing the same clothes I started in at least twice.

I’m going on a cruise in four days. I’ve been planning the packing for two weeks. Some people can just toss things into a suitcase at the last minute and gleefully skip along their merry way like annoying little Samsonite nymphs. Are they of this universe? What are they tapping into to acquire such a coveted and mysterious skill – the Quatrains of Nostratravelus?

I know it’s my vivid imagination that always trips me up – pun intended – to pack excessively. I picture myself, like an international jet setter in all these fabulous scenarios while I’m away – as if they’re really going to happen – and then pack the outfits accordingly:  “Let’s see, I’ll bring this gold lamé Cache bubble dress and rhinestone tiara for formal night dining; this clingy, yet free flowing Anne Klein wrap dress with the plunging neckline for wild nights at the disco; and of course 18 bathing suits from Swim ‘n Sport for when I’m sunbathing on deck, impressing the gaggle of handsome, unmarried, vibrantly personable men that I’ll meet.”  Yah.

What really happens on a ship?

Night of Formal Dining: You start drinking around 9 a.m. and by the time dinner rolls around you’re passed out in your stateroom like a wide-mouth bass. Your travel buddy wakes before you do, barks something about being late for dinner and you shoot up from your coma, grabbing whatever doesn’t smell and head off to the chow hall. To keep in line with the “formality” of the evening – you brush your teeth. The bubble dress is a bust.

The Swinging Disco: You finish eating around 8 p.m. and head for the disco. Of course, it’s too early for any action and the only people up there are the octogenarians left over from the bingo games. You belly up to the disco bar and order a drink. You vow you’ll stay awake until at least 11 p.m. when the real fun starts. A few more drinks. By 10 p.m.  you’re still sitting on the disco bar stool when your travel buddy elbows you in the ribs. “I’m not sleeping!” you say defensively, “I’m just resting my eyes.” The free-flowing wrap dress with the plunging neckline has freely plunged elsewhere.

The next day at the Ship’s Pool: You wear your jet black bikini because you feel a little bloated from the day before, and even though it’s about six square inches of material for both the top and bottom, you’re convinced it’s slimming because, well, it’s black. You never really lose that bloated feeling on a cruise so it’s pretty much that black bathing suit ad infinitum. Oh, and the only males I ever see are either married, in a stroller, or one step away from becoming a cadaver.

My point is, you don’t need to schlep a lot of crap. Packing lightly and efficiently is the goal. The trick is to get your belongings to your destination unbroken, undamaged and wrinkle free. Pretty much the way I like my men.

Since I love lists, listed below are some handy dandy tips to keep the noose off your neck and the smile on your lips when packing for a trip.

Anna’s Handy Dandy Smart Art of Packing List
Make a list of what you’ll need to bring and follow it.  Duh. I just started doing this myself because I self righteously thought – “Ha! I can remember everything I need. I am Memory Girl!” Who am I kidding? I’m lucky I can remember where I parked my car at Publix. Make the list.

Spread out all the items you want to bring on your bed BEFORE you pack them.  What an eye opener this is. I realized how excessive I could be. No! Me? I don’t need 15 pairs of shorts for a week vacation – unless I plan to be darting into phone booths like Clark Kent every 15 minutes to change. Also, spreading things out reminds me of anything important I may have forgotten: underwear, nightie, the latest copy of MAD magazine, and my lacy French maid’s outfit in case.  Never mind why – that’s my business.

Pack shoes in a separate bag. Pack shoes in a separate valise or tote for convenience and easy access, unless you have room to spare in the mother ship suitcase (as if). Again, less is less. A pair of sneaks for working out and walking around, a nice pair of comfortable yet stylish heels for dinner, some flip-flops for the pool and those little bootie socks with the rubber bottoms to wear in your stateroom so your bare feet don’t touch the skeevatz floor and you die of cooties.

Travel size toiletries please. This should be a no-brainer. Then again, there is a rampant epidemic of no brains currently plaguing the country. For instance, don’t lug the Costco size shampoo and crème rinse with you – in other words, bring no toiletry that rivals the size of a Buick unless you’re Andre the Giant. Travel sized toiletries can be purchased. And if you are Andre the Giant, let me know what cabin you’re in so I’ll know where to go in case I run out of anything.

Bring a minimum of hair paraphernalia.
I know how much anxiety this can produce. After all, we all want fabulous hair while on vacation or otherwise. We think we need the curling iron, hot rollers, flat iron, blow dryer, shampoo, conditioner, anti-frizz lotion, mousse, gel, pomade and finishing spray. And if you’re half Armenian like me, that’s just for the hair on your legs. Scale down people! Besides the travel-size hair products, a blow dryer and one styling appliance is all you need. Remember, when in doubt about what to do with your crowning glory, don’t forget the best hair solution of all: the baseball cap.

Reading materials.  The Star, the National Enquirer and the Globe. That’s it. Chuck all those grandiose ideas you’ve had about reading anything that may be nourishing for the brain or intellectually stimulating – it’s too much like work. Who needs to be reading about the deficit or if you’ll have enough money to retire on, what with social security going into the crapper – you’re on vacation!