I HATE going on holiday. Not being on holiday — that’s fine. I mean the lead-up to it: all the extra work you have to put in to compensate for the time you’re taking off; all the tedious chores like cancelling the milk and changing the answerphone message; and the packing. God, I hate packing.
Perhaps it has something to do with being sent off to boarding school at an early age. Maybe I associate folded clothes with impending doom. More likely, though, it’s because I’m not very good at it and never quite know whether I’m packing too much or not enough.
According to Tom Gleadell, a psychologist, there may be a good underlying reason for this angst. “It comes down to a difference in thought processes between the sexes,” he says. “Men don’t visualise things in the same way that women do. Women imagine what they would look like in the clothes on a beach, whereas to men it’s just a chore.”
The secret is not to leave everything until the last minute in the hope that adrenalin and panic will see you through. Plan a week in advance. Make a list of all the things you need washed and ready by D-Day. Or, if you like, copy this one.
Oh, and the other really important thing with “capsule wardrobes” is colour co-ordination. An item that doesn’t work with everything else in your suitcase is a waste of space.
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A lightweight suit Apart from trunks, I’d argue that this is the key item in a man’s summer travel wardrobe, because it broadcasts to the world: “I’m affluent, sophisticated and important and I deserve to be taken seriously.” None of these things may be true, but that’s not the point. On holiday, as in life generally, image is all. Travel in a suit and you’re much more likely to get an upgrade on your flight, and to be invited by rich people to dine at their clubs or go cruising on their yachts. The staff in your hotel will treat you more deferentially. You will pull a classier sort of bird. Failing the suit, a decent jacket is also an option. Preferably one with lots of pockets for your travel documents.
A tie Well, you never know. The ambassador’s reception, maybe. Or an exceptionally poncey restaurant.
A formal shirt Thomas Pink does a good one called “the Traveller” with a concealed inside breast pocket to hide your passport and another one in the cuff for your credit cards, plus a crease-resistant finish. Eton, too, make specialised crease-resistant shirts in pure cotton. This isn’t a shirt for casual wearing. It’s for keeping in reserve, crisp and ready, just in case you are called upon to look powerful and impressive.
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Three long-sleeved shirts Casual-ish. For your evenings — and covering your arms after you’ve burnt them. This is where men usually fall down. They think “a few T-shirts, that’s all I need”, when in fact on holiday you’re going out at night more often than at home. T-shirts won’t do. Not only do they offer no mozzie protection, but they make you look like a slob. You need something rumpled yet coolly elegant. A Margaret Howell would be ideal. Oliver Spencer does a nice cotton one, designed to look rumpled. Or anything linen works well on holiday.
A pair of your best jeans There’s no point in taking manky, faded ones. And definitely not — I’m presuming you are off somewhere hot — tight, fitted ones. You want posh, loosefitted, smartly cut ones, in deepest indigo, which you can wear dressed up or dressed down.
A pair of linen/drawstring/chino trousers Doesn’t matter which. Drawstring trousers will make you look a complete tosser, but they are the best thing to wear on holiday because they’re so cool and comfortable. It may seem too hot for long trousers but remember, no man has ever pulled a girl while wearing a pair of shorts.
A pair of shorts Nonetheless, you can’t not wear them. Not if it’s hot.
T-shirts Lots of them. You can never pack too many, especially if, like me, you wear them while swimming to stop yourself getting burnt. Mind you, if you want to cut a dash, polo shirts would be more fetching and “now”.
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Two pairs of swimming trunks Look, it’s not as if the extra pair will take up much space, is it? And it spares you having to get into yesterday’s damp ones if they haven’t quite dried, thus reducing the possibility of willy-shrivel.
A pair of Birkenstocks These are now so socially acceptable that you could almost get away with making them your only holiday footwear. They even work with a suit.
A pair of trainers But I personally wouldn’t want to wear Birkenstocks for clubbing, or walking on rough ground, or playing tennis. Which is why you need trainers too.
A pair of smart shoes Here’s where it gets tricky. Do you really need smart shoes too? They take up so much space. My view, though, is that you’d feel less miserable taking them and not using them than you would not taking them and then wishing you had.
Pants I go for only one pair every other day. Is that disgusting of me?
Socks You can never pack enough, especially if you are going to walk a long way and don’t want mozzie-bite hell on your ankles.
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Sunglasses Obviously.
Hat So important. So easily forgotten. So hard, when you have forgotten it, to find one on holiday that doesn’t make you look a total prat.
Mask, snorkel and flippers When you’re trying to rationalise your overpacked suitcase, these are often the things you jettison first. And when you get to the beach and see it’s right next to a coral reef/sunken Roman ship, they are the things you’ll most regret not having brought.
Nail clippers Your nails grow twice as fast in hot climes. I won’t go into rude detail, but suppose you’ve pulled this tasty chick and you get to third base and — you get the idea.