Some Outfits Were Harmed in the Making of This Packing List

My high-functioning, low-structure approach to packing like a person with big feelings

Pack style. Not outfits.
5, 4, 3, 2, 1.
10x10.
Packing cubes. Grid systems. Color formulas.
I’ve tried so many packing methods over the years. Some have worked, some haven’t.

Real talk: I don’t particularly care about minimalism when I pack (or ever). I’m not a carry-on girlie. In fact, I prefer not having one to lug around. Maybe it’s because most of my trips are long (LA to Delhi, 26+ hours of travel), and dragging a tiny suitcase through the airport feels more like punishment than freedom. I get the appeal, though. Some trips just aren’t long enough to justify checking in a bag.

These days, I’m traveling every other week. And over time, I’ve developed various packing techniques for different kinds of trips. I wasn’t even going to write this Substack, to be honest—because, does anyone care! My technique is my technique. It doesn’t have a catchy name or a tidy list. But then I thought maybe it works for someone else too.

Or maybe you’re just like me and need reassurance that it’s okay to be not so methodical when you pack.

I don’t love planning outfits. When I do, I usually end up bored of them before I even get to the destination.
I also don’t love that feeling of realizing I forgot something essential. It bums me out. And I’ve been known to buy random stuff on trips just to fix that feeling—stuff I don’t need and don’t end up loving.
I’m okay with packing a bit more than average, but I’m not okay with packing stuff I don’t use. My rule: I want to wear at least 90% of what I bring.

So, how does one avoid outfit boredom and under-packing, while still keeping things intentional?

Let me walk you through my totally sensible, slightly chaotic method.

Step 1: Where and Why

First, I’m going to Austin. For a work conference. With a whole bunch of creatives.

I’ll be there for three days, which means at least four outfits, including the one I fly in. I’ve never been to Austin before, so I check the weather: lows in the 50s, highs in the 80s—okay, hot but with a chance of chilly AC indoors.

Austin vibe check. From what I hear, it’s chill, stylish, creative. Like LA, but more low-key and less performative (no hate, LA—I love you). I look up the Proper Hotel Austin, where I’m staying.

Well, that is just plain gorgeous

The interiors are gorgeous—earthy tones, rich textures, a kind of rustic-modern elegance. I get it now. That’s my starter visual palette. Terracotta, olive, bone, black.

And no, I’m not showing up in a giant belt buckle or a bolo tie. I’m not dressing for a cowboy costume party—I’m dressing for the mood. Big difference.

Step 2: Pick the First 3 Outfits (You Won’t Actually Wear)

Here’s where it gets weirdly strategic.

For short trips, I start with 3 outfits:

• One very formal

• One very casual

• One comfy for travel

  

  Formal outfit, done

  

  Casual outfit, also done

  

  Easy, comfy travel outfit. Done, done, and done.

I never intend to actually wear these outfits. I rarely love being that formal or that casual anyway. But starting here helps me pull a foundational set of items.

Note: I’m not choosing shoes or accessories yet. That comes later.

So now I have a list of clothes. I lay it all out—in Indyx (thank you

Devon Rule

—and see what’s missing.

I love layers, so three outfits’ worth of clothes won’t cut it for a four-day trip. I add a few more tops. Something slinky. A bold print. A graphic tee

.At this stage, I start editing.

The silky cami? A yes.
The plaid sleeveless? Meh. I’m already bringing gingham, and the two feel redundant. Out it goes.
The original graphic tee? Too soft, too same-same with everything else. I swap it for a white tee with a bolder graphic(my little bunny, Rumi) to add some contrast and friction.

Now it’s clicking.

Step 3: Shoes, Bags, and Other Accessories

Shoes: I start with two—one casual, one more formal. The sneakers work. The loafers? Too brown. The whole capsule starts to feel like a caramel sundae with no crunch.

I swap the loafers for red patent loafer slides. Instant spice. But I still need a “harsh” shoe—something with edge. I usually bring black shoes for this exact reason. I add my black tabi walking shoes. Bonus: they double as my morning walk shoes.

Bags are next. I need a tote for my laptop and travel, and a small clutch for dinners. I pick ones that fit the color story. Done.

Watches: I have 3 total, I import two. The third one’s manual wind-up and, honestly, not worth the hassle when I travel. I look at it together. the orange-faced one too matchy-matchy with the rest. Feels forced. I go with the silver. Sharp, neutral, and just a little cold.

Socks: I add three. One textured (fishnet), one neutral brown to match overall capsule color scheme, one red to go with the red shoes.

Sunglasses and a belt: I go a little edgier here to shake up the softness in the clothes. See, you need friction somewhere in an outfit. And I typically find it easier to bring in contrast via smaller accessories, also more versatile. Will I regret it? Maybe. But I’m bored looking at my list, and edge makes it interesting.

Jewelry: one small pair of earrings, one statement pair, one necklace. That’s it. Simple formula. Always works.

Almost done. The one thing missing is a cardigan. I always, always bring one with me. I also add this at the very end. It can be that last piece that ties everything together. For example, if this were mostly a black and white capsule so far, I would add an earthy color. In this case, I use this moment to bring in a fun, unexpected color.

Final Step: Delete the Original Outfits

Remember those three outfits I started with? Delete them. They were never real. Their job was to generate the item list. Mission accomplished.

Gone AND forgotten

To double-check the capsule, I do a little test:
I pick one item (like the pleated skirt) and style three different outfits with it in my head. If it works three times, it works across the board.

It does work! Mission: packed.

I’ve got a suitcase full of pieces I actually want to wear. Enough structure to avoid panic, enough flexibility to dress by mood. I feel covered, not constrained. The plan worked—and I still get to play.

I’ll find out next week how it really performs on the ground. Want a follow-up? Let me know.

It’s a system. It’s a vibe. It’s slightly chaotic—but it works.

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