Friday, August 17, 2007
I'm a bit of a news junkie. There are mornings I wake up wondering, "What will Fed chair Ben Bernanke do with interest rates today?!?" or "How the hell do you spell Nouri al-Maliki?"
But rarely do I get such useful information about current trends as I did this week when a segment ran on National Public Radio. The reporter explained that somewhere in America is a company that for the bargain price of about a car payment will store and pack your clothes for you so that business travel is less of a hassle.
According to the report, your clothes live a life of luxury in a cedar-lined closet with martinis every night and artful pressings. When you want to see them again, they're listed online.
Click what you want and some manservant packs them up. I like to imagine Anthony Hopkins in The Remains of the Day carefully folding undies while wearing white gloves and a dark tuxedo. And maybe a top hat.
It's a slightly different picture than my usual packing ritual, which happens at 5 a.m., an hour before I have to rush to D/FW Airport to catch some ridiculously early flight to Timbuktu. I almost always fail to properly plan, so I end up in wintry Denmark with tank tops and Nassau with no sunscreen.
When I was in Napa Valley last September, I unzipped my bulging suitcase to find that I had forgotten the lower half of my bathing suit. Good thing it's hard to tell the difference between black underwear and a black bikini bottom. It also helps that everyone visiting for the fall "crush" spends their days at wine tastings and wouldn't notice if I wandered the vineyards in Princess Leia's Jabba the Hutt outfit.
Perhaps if I had a professional on my side, I would not make the same stupid decision trip after trip that I need 4-inch strappy heels with me. Because clearly after 10 hours of walking through the Louvre and Latin Quarter in Paris, I think I'm going to want to limp up Saint-Michel in stilettos for an evening of dancing. The only thing I want after that much time on my feet is Michel the masseuse.
The other thing a professional could do is slap some sense into those of us who are card-carrying members of the Overpackers of America. I am reminded of this every time I open my bag to find that for a three-day trip, I've packed nine pairs of underwear, four pants, three skirts, two bathing suits, cowboy boots, and, inexplicably, a bunch of scarves.
Maybe these packing professionals can expand their business to the masses and help us all learn to be better travelers. Because there's just no reason to pack a tube top for a ski trip.
But otherwise, tube tops are perfectly fine. E-mail Leah at lashafer@gmail.com.
