How a luxury interior designer packs for international travel: the exact luggage, packing cubes, and essential items Joelle Uzyel brings on every trip, and the philosophy behind intentional over-packing. Fully shoppable travel edit.
Listen. I'm an over-packer. Have been for 15 years. Will probably be until I die, at which point my executor will open my suitcase and find seven cashmere sweaters, four pairs of neutral sneakers, and approximately 47 packing cubes for some reason.
I've stopped apologizing for this. I've actually elevated it to a personality trait at this point. It's right up there with "drinks too much coffee" and "has opinions about linens."
I travel with Victorinox luggage. Same size, same color. All of them. I've had them for a decade, which means I've gotten approximately 10 years of value out of something I chose once and refused to reconsider. This is peak behavior, actually.
I also own a Chanel carry-on. It's beautiful. It's collecting dust at home. Why? Because I'm married to a typical airport dad. You know the type. The one who believes arriving three hours early is actually arriving late. The one who has a small panic attack if we're not at security with time to spare for a leisurely airport breakfast.
So I need a carry-on that can handle being lugged around an airport lounge for hours without me having an existential crisis. Rimowa wins. Chanel looks good but doesn't survive the airport dad lifestyle. It's a practical casualty of marriage.
My luggage is massive, which means I can pack everything. Some people call this a problem. I call it having options.
My carry-on is Rimowa. This is non-negotiable in the way that some people feel about their coffee order. I have tested other carry-ons. I have suffered. Rimowa is the only thing that doesn't make me contemplate my choices by the time I reach the gate.
My shoulder bag is Goyard. Yes, it's bougie. Yes, it also fits my laptop, a book, my entire beauty maintenance station, and somehow still looks intentional. This matters when you're traveling with teenagers and an airport dad husband, and you need to feel like you have some control over something.
This is where I fully commit to the bit.
I keep a small LV pouch for accessories. A Prada vanity pouch for skincare because apparently I'm incapable of just throwing things in a bag like a normal person. Packing cubes for every single category of clothing, organized in a way that would make Marie Kondo weep.
When I arrive at a destination, I immediately unpack everything. Not eventually. Not when I feel like it. Immediately. Everything goes in its place. My kids used to find this unhinged. Now they understand it's the difference between traveling in peace and spending an entire week living out of luggage like some kind of refugee from a failed minimalism experiment.
Let me be very clear about something: I have never once tried to look cute at an airport. If you're trying to look cute at an airport, you're traveling incorrectly.
Most of my flights are overseas. This means 12+ hours of sitting, which demands comfort in a way that fashion bloggers will never understand.
I pack Alo matching sets and Sporty and Rich pants. Sweats. Good sweats, but sweats. Sneakers. Maybe one cashmere layer that could theoretically work with something else if I'm feeling ambitious.
Then everything else is neutrals: taupes, creams, blacks. The same palette I use in my design work, which is convenient because consistency is just laziness with better branding.
Here's a travel hack nobody talks about: pack pieces that work in multiple scenarios. A cream cashmere sweater works over a dress for dinner. It works under a blazer if I have a client meeting. It works with sweats for a hotel room breakfast where I'm pretending this is fine. You're building a wardrobe, not a costume.
For longer trips, I re-wear strategically. Same trousers, different configurations. Same sneakers with everything. But I'm still over-packing compared to what those "minimize your suitcase" people want you to do. I bring options because options are how I maintain my mental health.
Packing cubes: I live by these. Everything gets cubed. Clothes, ski gear that stays cubed at home until winter, that one sweater I might wear. This isn't extra. This is infrastructure.
Comfort layer: Fluffy socks for flights because my feet deserve dignity. Melatonin for long-hauls because good sleep is the one thing I'm actually willing to pay for. An eye mask. Headphones. A battery pack.
The Beauty & Maintenance Station: I bring cuticle cutters. Nail glue. Tiny scissors. Headbands. Foot cream. Lip moisturizer in multiple formulations because my lips are complicated. Travel-size versions of whatever my skin has decided it needs. Why? Because I'm a woman with standards traveling with teenagers and an airport dad, and I'm not arriving at a destination with ragged cuticles, a bad attitude, and no headbands. That's not self-care. That's just giving up.
The Shoulder Bag Strategy: I always travel with a carry-on and a shoulder bag. The shoulder bag is for the plane itself, the airport chaos, the emotional breakdown that might happen at security. The carry-on is where the actual life lives.
Here's what I think is wrong with how people talk about packing: they think it's about fitting things into a small space. It's not. It's about moving through the world with the least amount of stress possible.
When I pack, I'm not thinking "How little can I bring?" I'm thinking "What does my family need to not completely fall apart in a new location?" That might mean over-packing. It definitely means bringing good skincare and a cuticle cutter and nail glue and foot cream because apparently my feet have expectations now.
And honestly? It means my airport dad husband can arrive three hours early if he wants. I'll be fine. I'll have foot cream and a fully functioning beauty maintenance station.
Decorate your luggage so it's instantly recognizable. Your teenage daughter won't accidentally grab someone else's bag.
Travel-size everything you use daily. Worth it. Eliminate one variable from the chaos.
Invest in one carry-on that doesn't make you want to scream. Rimowa is expensive. It's also something I haven't resented for 8 years.
Use packing cubes for everything. Even short trips. The organization saves mental energy you'll need later.
Wear the bulkiest item on the plane. Don't pack it. Save the space for more important things, like extra cashmere.
Get a shoulder bag that actually fits your life. Not a tiny cross-body that holds two lipsticks and a sense of regret.
Pack maintenance tools. Cuticle cutters, nail glue, tiny scissors, headbands. You're traveling, not abandoning your standards.
I'm a high-end interior designer who travels constantly with her family. I've learned that the way you pack is how you tell the world what you value. I value comfort. I value not losing my mind halfway through a trip because I forgot something important. I value matching luggage, good skincare, foot cream, and the ability to immediately unpack and feel settled.
Do I over-pack? Absolutely. Am I unapologetic about it? I'm building a personal brand around it at this point.
The people who pack one carry-on for two weeks? Cool. Good for them. That's not me. I'm the woman with the matching Victorinox luggage, the Rimowa carry-on, the Chanel bag collecting dust at home, and enough packing cubes to organize a small country. I arrive at destinations with nail glue in my Prada pouch and the ability to handle whatever comes next. That's winning at travel.