One of the most important parts of packing for an overseas outing (especially a lengthy abroad experience like my university-sanctioned foray into Denmark) is hashing out the wardrobe situation. Seasoned travelers advise that one should dress as the locals do—but what happens when doing so requires you to pack some articles of clothing that simply aren’t meant for traditional methods of packing?

I’m no Raf Simons, but I often throw on a nice shirt pressed with medium starch to cultivate some serious razzmatazz, and I’m certainly no stranger to the occasional day in a full suit. Whether one has some swanky excursions planned or just wants to dress to impress on the fashion-literate streets of their destination city, transporting nicer garments safely and easily is going to be a serious concern. I found myself in a similar camp. If I simply tossed my clothes into the suitcase, I’d pull them out at the hotel only to find that they had more wrinkles than Yubaba. That is something I wanted to prevent, so I did some research, and resolved to share my findings.

Obviously, the best option (and the one I first considered) would be to pack them over normally and immediately get them serviced at a local cleaner. Doing so, however, is often costly and time consuming, and can be an unpleasant chore—especially when you’re in the acclimation phase and on a tight schedule (as most are when they first arrive). The worst option, of course, is to do nothing at all. This left me hunting for some alternative constituent of the proverbial middle ground. To Google I went!

After numerous shirt-rolling YouTube tutorials I found by searching “how to pack dress clothes for travel,” I stumbled across my very own holy grail: the hanging bag.

For a reasonable price, I found a nice piece of equipment in which—as the name suggests—one hangs the clothes they wish to protect. The whole unit zips up, folds over, and acts as a piece of luggage while minimizing the potential for wrinkles to form. It was perfect, and I had found my solution. I planned to wear my most danger-prone outfit (like a suit, for example) on the flight over, place the rest in the hanging bag, and iron out (both figuratively and literally) any issues in the hotel’s ironing room when I arrived. My concern, then, had been abated; I could rest easy knowing the trip over would be made far easier, allowing me to look and feel my best in the formative days following my arrival.

Iucundum Adventures,