Surprising packing myth Australian travellers always fall for

This myth is trotted out regularly by those who claim to be experts, but after a lifetime of travel I can honestly say it’s far from reality.

It’s been a while, sure, but even so it was a shock to receive an email last week claiming Australians had “forgotten how to pack”. Excuse me?

The press release had been sent by an unholy alliance of tour operator, clothing company and smart device, who were collectively trying to convince travellers to download an app that would tell them what to pack depending on where they’re heading.

I did not download the app because (a) life’s too short, and (b) I do not have a smart device. But the sole online review of the app suggests it’s useless anyway.

“It takes five minutes of chatter before anything packing-related happens,” the reviewer writes. “I stopped (listening) when they said, ‘It’s good to have a beach towel in America. Have you packed one yet?’”

Groundbreaking stuff.

The other reason I didn’t download it is because I haven’t forgotten how to pack. I’m sure none of us has. I was just never very good at it. And I certainly haven’t got any better after two years of being grounded.

An open, full suitcase on a bed

Last month on my first big OS trip, to Africa, I panicked when I read the itinerary and saw, in big bold letters, that my luggage must weigh less than 20kg and be stored in a soft bag. If not, I wouldn’t be able to fly on the small plane in Botswana.

I sweated so much over that bold-type warning. The 20kg bit was fine – I never pack that heavy anyway because I’m too lazy to lug it around – but soft? My (rather large) case has a hard base but a soft top. Would that work?

Readers, it did. But even so I spent much of my time in Africa regretting I hadn’t researched the destinations better beforehand. That way I needn’t have bothered with the turtleneck, the thermal top, the raincoat, the five collared shirts and the dressy jacket.

Turns out every day was very hot and very casual. I could have happily survived on half – if not a third – of what I’d taken.

I do not know how to “pack light”. One time, when I was boarding a cruise ship, a fellow passenger stared in disbelief at the size of my case and declared, “That’s not a suitcase. That’s a mobile home!” How rude.

Forgotten how to pack? More like never nailed it, ever.

Being an over-thinker I tend to game-plan every possible eventuality on work assignments and then pack accordingly. It’s entirely normal for me to include a polar-class outfit alongside Hawaiian shirts and a casual slack. My motto when planning a travelling wardrobe is, You just never know.

Or, as my editor likes to say, “I call it Lotto rather than packing. Whether I win or lose depends on what happens at my destination when I open my case to see what I put in it while seemingly wearing a blindfold.”

I read a column last week that argued if only people were more organised they could fly overseas with nothing more than carry-on luggage. The author suggested we could simply pick up any pieces we needed along the way. How I laughed.

Not all of us are Ralph Lauren models who can slip into unstructured separates without looking like tramps. The carry-on-only myth is trotted out regularly by those who seemingly only fly business class or better and have gold cards for any incidentals. Their views are irrelevant to the rest of us.

Happy traveller: a woman packing her clothes into a suitcase, getting ready for a trip.

Given my handicap, an editor once sent me to a packing tutorial at the posh Louis Vuitton boutique in Melbourne. Over an hour or so I looked on in awe as an assistant showed me how to fold a mink-collared cashmere cardigan and shared various other origami secrets to make the most of available space.

Louis Vuitton, for the uninitiated, made steamer trunks fashionable back in the 19th century so the company knows every nook and cranny of a case. As my instructor said, “Louis Vuitton’s heritage is as a trunk maker so we know these things.”

Other tips I learned that day: pad the toes of shoes (with socks or undies is fine). Fill gaps between heavier items with “undergarments”. Pop collars up and turn jackets inside out to keep them fresh. Those strange straps in your case? They’re meant to be fastened over the first layer of stuff. Who knew?

I was also advised to cover my packed belongings with a “trans-seasonal shawl” because “that way, when you open the case, everything looks beautiful”. I can’t remember ever having done this since. And I still have no idea what a trans-seasonal shawl is.

That’s the thing with packing. It’s a very individual trait. If you can go a month in Morocco with only carry-on luggage, more power to you. Me? I’d be packing a dinner suit and wet-weather gear, just in case.

WORST CASE SCENARIO

Think you’re a bad packer? You honestly can’t be worse than me. On various occasions I’ve forgotten to pack underwear, shoes, socks, and indispensable toiletries such as toothbrush, toothpaste and – horror of horrors – hair product. I’m resigned to the fact I’ll never be an accomplished packer but I still always scour online for articles (like “How to pack a suitcase” in The New York Times) in the vain hope of one day having some idea of what I might need when I’m away.