A few months ago, I packed my entire life into one suitcase. I was moving from one continent to another, but there was no fixed destination on the other side. No home waiting, no address to forward mail to. Just a stack of visa forms, a few half-made plans, and a storage full of things I wouldn’t see in a long time. 

In the meantime, I’d be crossing seasons and borders, navigating safari trails one week and hotel lobbies the next. I’d be crashing on friends’ sofas and checking into places where someone else carries your bag. And through it all: one suitcase. Medium-sized, checked in, no more, no less.

I realized I’d been training for this for years. All those weekends with a backpack. All those week-long trips with just a carry-on. Flexibility. Versatility. Learning the hard way. This was the ultimate pack job: the Forever Suitcase. Everything I’d need, nothing I could live without. And here’s what made the cut.

In Transit

My silk eye mask is sage green and very beautiful, which feels important when you’re pressing it against your face for 12 hours. You never know the seatmate, the airline, or the hour. Blocking out the world in style feels like a small act of control.

My Bose noise-cancelling headphones are bulky, and I always consider leaving them behind, but every time I do, I regret it. Whether it’s a roaring engine or a toddler discovering their full vocal range, flipping the switch to total muffled silence? That’s power.

My oversized white Patagonia fleece is basically my emotional support item. Airports are always freezing, and there’s no worse feeling than sitting on a plane thinking, I’ll be sick by the time I land. Warmth equals survival.

My French pharmacy lotion is practically medicinal. I started using it for childhood eczema, and now it’s the only thing that keeps the skin around my eyes from cracking in high-altitude air. That little tube is worth its weight in gold.

And yes, I caved and bought a Kindle. I still love real books: the paper, the smell, the scribbled notes in the margins. But when you’re on the road for months, there’s no room for sentiment. What I really can’t live with is the anxiety of finishing my last paperback and having nothing to read. The Kindle keeps the panic away.

On the Clock

A foldable Mac stand and a magic mouse are non-negotiables. Remote work sounds like cappuccinos and charming cafés, but that’s maybe 5% of the time. The rest happens in airport lounges, hotel desks, or your friend’s slightly unstable kitchen table. After a day hunched over a laptop, you start to feel like Gollum. The mouse saves your wrist; the stand saves your spine.

A world adapter is another tiny tech hero. Mine handles four plug types and three USB ports, because if you’ve paid $6 for coffee just to charge your devices, you want to charge everything.

My oversized white shirt from Samsoe is the MVP of my wardrobe. Long flight? Still chic. Interview? Add earrings. Sunset drink? Roll up the sleeves. It even passes for “polished” when paired with black pants and lipstick. If versatility had a uniform, it would be this shirt.

I carry a Moleskine reporter notebook and an astronaut pen, a gift from one of my best friends. I still think best on paper, especially when structuring interviews or sketching out a messy first draft. Call me old school.

A mini JBL speaker might not sound essential, but I bring it everywhere. Sometimes headphones feel too isolating. A little ambient music while I work, or something playing softly over dinner in an Airbnb, changes everything.

And then there’s the emergency pouch. Not medical (though I carry that too). This one’s for comfort: a handful of my favorite teas (because hotel tea is always tragic), mini Nesquik packets for my husband (his breakfast non-negotiable), and a few squares of dark chocolate. It’s tiny, always with me, and turns even the most generic hotel room into something that feels like mine.

City Days & Evenings

My camel Demi-Lune bag from APC is the only handbag that made the cut. It’s elegant without being flashy, structured enough for a wine bar but relaxed enough for a local market. I’ve worn it in Cape Town while sprinting for a bus, and on a manta ray cruise, no adjustments needed. It fits the essentials and has never once raised an eyebrow at check-in.

I don’t usually wear makeup. Too much effort for too little payoff. But one Christmas, a friend gave me a deep Chanel lipstick. It takes up no space and transforms anything I’m wearing in one swipe. It’s my emergency polish: one tube, instant elevation.

My jewelry box is the size of an AirPods case, picked up at a beach bar in Thailand. Inside are two tiny compartments: one for earrings, one for rings. The earrings are for dressing up; the ring box is for keeping my wedding band away from hotel sink drains. Lesson learned.

And then there are the sparkly gold Supergas. They go with jeans, they go with dresses, they go everywhere. I bought them on a whim and now they’re my go-to. When you only have room for one pair of shoes, they need to pull their weight, and make a dress feel like a decision.

By the Water

My bright pink oversized linen shirt from Arket might be the most hardworking item I packed. Worn open over a swimsuit, it’s stylish enough for a city coffee run. Rolled up with shorts, it’s beach-ready. But the real magic is the linen: in hot, sticky climates, nothing feels better. It’s light, breathable, and flutters in the breeze like it knows it’s doing you a favor.

My secret weapon for sun is the Clarins 50+ stick, a recommendation from a friend who lived in Barcelona and knew exactly what she was talking about. It’s tiny, never melts, doesn’t grease your face up like a croissant left in the sun, and smells quietly amazing. I reapply it constantly: mid-walk, mid-nap, mid-beach spritz. And every time I find it at an airport pharmacy, I buy three.

Tucked into every beach bag I carry: a well-worn deck of Scopa cards. It’s a fast, slightly chaotic Italian game I used to play with my Nonna and little sister, and I still bring it with me everywhere. It takes up no space, turns sundown drinks into a ritual, and reminds me that sometimes the best wins come when you least deserve them.

Staying Active

I work out four to five times a week, even on the road, which means my suitcase has to pull double duty. My must-haves: a pair of Hoka running shoes, a solid sports bra, grip socks, and the one piece that travels with me, judgment be damned: a pair of French national football team shorts from the early 2020s. They’re sporty enough for a run, relaxed enough for a walk with an oversized tee, and, I maintain, very cool.

My go-to travel workouts are running (minimal gear required) and Pilates (which I can do from a hotel floor, no props necessary). But yes, with one of everything, laundry is non-negotiable. If I’m lucky, there’s hotel service. If not, I hand wash in the sink with Genie detergent, which smells amazing and has become, oddly enough, one of my favorite rituals.

What I’ve Learned From Living Out of One Bag

It’s been five months of living out of one suitcase, and I rarely wish I had more. When I miss something, it’s not a thing. It’s people. It’s food. It’s the ease of familiarity. But not stuff.

If anything, this way of traveling has made me more deliberate. Every item has a purpose. Every object feels cared for. It’s striking how living light can make you feel more grounded.

I didn’t pack for every possibility. I packed for the life I wanted to live. And so far? It’s enough.