The things I stopped packing in my suitcase after turning 40

October 19, 2026 — 4:00am

There used to be two versions of me who came on every trip: the woman I wanted to be, and the woman I actually was. The first wore high heels to dinner and packed silk dresses for occasions that existed only in her imagination. She had a different hat for every day of the week, each one deemed essential enough to be balanced in a wobbly stack through airports, and jewellery to match each outfit.

The second woman? Well, she had a bunion on her left big toe that made those heels unbearable after 10 minutes, and she hated rummaging through a bulging suitcase looking for matching earrings. Mostly, she just wanted to be warm and comfortable, neither of which she ever was.

For a surprisingly long time, the fantasy version of myself kept winning. Case in point: at 30, I trekked Nepal’s Poon Hill trail to 3200 metres wearing cosmic-print leggings, a hot pink T-shirt, John Lennon sunglasses and about five kilograms of chunky Nepalese coin jewellery. “I’d rather fall off this mountain than wear North Face,” I proudly declared to my husband, ignoring the sweat gathering at the crotch of my synthetic leggings and the chafe at the back of my neck from the jewels.

I wish I could say I learned my lesson then. But it wasn’t until I turned 40 two years ago that I stopped packing for the woman I wanted to be perceived as, and started packing for the one who was actually boarding the plane.

The heels were gradually replaced by Blundstone boots, New Balance trainers and Teva velcro sandals. My carefully curated outfits became a capsule wardrobe of jeans, cotton shirts, one warm jumper that goes with everything and, in what my 28-year-old self would have considered a catastrophic sartorial failure, even a puffer jacket. The hairdryer stayed home after I finally surrendered to the wavy hair I spent my entire pre-midlife life trying to tame. My jewellery collection shrank to the same simple gold pieces I wear every day because, frankly, life is too short to spend precious travel time wondering which earrings best complement a monastery.

Now this could all be blamed on shifting aesthetics. After all, gorpcore is having its big moment, and North Face is now considered genuinely cool. But I think it’s more a reflection of where I’m at now in my life – of what genuinely interests me, and the things that make me feel most alive. The woman who once planned holidays around rooftop bars and boutiques now gets disproportionately excited by hiking trails, independent bookshops and conversations about native grasses. I’d rather spend an afternoon birdwatching than shopping, and I’m far more interested in the culture of a place than its cocktail scene.

As my suitcase has become less cluttered, my approach to the travels I’m taking it on has, too. I no longer feel as compelled to see everything. Given the choice between racing through 10 attractions or spending an afternoon watching the light change over a mountain valley, I’ll now choose the light every time.

I’ve stopped trying (so hard) to impress strangers too, whether it’s by wearing uncomfortable clothes, forcing myself to stay out late because everyone else is, or feeling obliged to be endlessly fascinating to the people I meet. And as it turns out, when you’re not spending mental energy deciding between outfits or worrying whether you’re making the most of every minute, there’s more attention left for the place itself. Suddenly you hear the prayer flags snapping in the wind more clearly. You notice the woman weaving baskets outside her home, or spend twenty minutes watching an old man sharpen knives for reasons you can’t entirely explain.

There have, admittedly, been a few new additions to my suitcase. Alongside the sensible shoes there’s now a magnesium supplement, a silk sleep mask and silicone earplugs because, well, post-40 a good night’s sleep becomes one of travel’s greatest luxuries. There’s also a cake of high-quality tea, because I can’t fathom the idea of starting the day with a mediocre brew, and a massage ball because after 40, you spend less time collecting souvenirs and more time collecting ingenious ways to release your glutes. None of these things are things anyone else will notice or admire. But they make my travels immeasurably better because they’re packed for how I feel on the trip, not how anyone else perceives it.

Turns out the best thing I’ve ever unpacked wasn’t the hairdryer. It was the person I thought I had to be.