Dress for success

In which our correspondent struggles with the one skill she needs as a business traveller: packing

DESPITE AN APPEARANCE OF COMPOSURE, I am actually one of the most disorganised people you will ever meet – and this quality manifests itself with a vengeance when I am packing. You’d have thought that after so many years I’d have mastered it and my pre-flight preparation was stress-free, but no. The problem is the clothes: I am Type Seven on the Enneagram so I am always thinking of possibilities... and each and every one of them warrants an outfit.

What should I change into for a client dinner? Which pair of shoes goes with Gagnaire’s? Do I have room to fit in another pair? What if my colleagues want to take me to a new club? What if Channing Tatum happens to be there as well? Should I pack my curling iron?

I used to work for someone who only wears Pleats Please by Issey Miyake because, well, the clothes are designed to fold into a ball. She looks perfectly stylish, but it’s just not for me – I need variety and shopping is my cardio. You can’t lose that many calories by walking around in one store!

Even what I wear to the airport is an issue. I can’t just wear anything – what if I meet a charming gentleman while getting my glass of champagne at the bar in the lounge? What if – even though this has never happened after hundreds of trips – I am actually seated next to someone half decent? And now those Virgin or Emirates flights with dedicated bar areas have complicated matters for me: no one wants to be caught sipping a Cosmo in a rag.

Of course I am not saying that I put on full regalia to catch a flight, and I am an experienced enough traveller to avoid wearing gladiator sandals or an underwire bra so as not to invite negative attention at security check, but a little waist-cut jacket and not-so-shabby flats would be the least I could do.

After the clothes are packed, there are then the cosmetics. All these small three-ounce bottles that I have been made to buy are just ridiculous. My skin is delicate and I can only use certain skincare products, so I can’t rely on what comes with the amenity kit, even if they are supposedly highquality brands. In one emergency situation I administered a cream that was not what I would usually use and, voila, breakouts!

Every time I pack I have to make sure to ration all my lotions and creams for my carry-on bag. It just takes forever. By the time I head out the door, it’s only about one and a half hours before departure – thank goodness I live near the airport!

It’s much easier for men, isn’t it? They just need one suit, two shirts with a few neckties to alternate, and two pairs of shoes. Many don’t even bother with a hairdryer – okay, some of them don’t need one, but there are those who still have hair!

When they go out for the night, they just put on a pair of jeans and a shirt, and those who give more of a damn might actually get their shirts pressed. It is ironic that women spend so much time making themselves look good for an audience that can’t itself be bothered.

On one recent flight I witnessed a fellow passenger, male, darting into the lavatory after take-off; he came out in a college tee and sports shorts that he had obviously owned since puberty. I am sure at one point they had fitted him well, but that wasn’t the case by the time he decided to wear them as PJs en route to New York. It would be perfectly fine for him to make that choice in the privacy of his own hotel room, but on a commercial flight, be considerate to your fellow passengers, please!

Never, ever would you see a woman do the same – we have all been taught to hide our flaws, not hang them out like this man did, quite literally. Let’s face it, women are judged by their looks more than men are, and we just have to cope with that, often with the help of retail therapy – how else has the fashion world grown into a multibilliondollar industry?

I do love my job and I certainly enjoy all the exciting travel I do as part of it. Still, as I walk through my front door after each trip there is always a sense of relief at being home – and I finally get to catch up on DowntonAbbey over some chocolate chip ice-cream and in my oversized sweats.