The Carry-On Only Packing Guide

I haven’t checked a bag in four years. Not for a weekend in Portland, not for three weeks in Japan, not for a winter trip to Iceland where I definitely should have brought more socks. Every trip, one bag, overhead bin, walk straight past baggage claim and into the taxi line while everyone else stares at the carousel.

It’s not about being a minimalist. It’s about never losing luggage, never paying bag fees, and never dragging a rolling suitcase over cobblestones in a medieval town that wasn’t designed for wheels.

Here’s how to do it.

The Bag

This matters more than anything else you pack. A bad bag wastes space, hurts your back, and gets flagged at the gate. A good one becomes invisible.

The Osprey Farpoint 40 is the default recommendation for a reason. It opens like a suitcase, carries like a backpack, and fits under every airline’s carry-on limit. It’s not sexy. It’s effective.

The Peak Design Travel Backpack 45L is the upgrade pick. Expands to 45 liters, compresses to 35, and has access points that actually make sense. Expensive at $300, but it’ll outlast everything else you own.

The Patagonia Black Hole MLC 45L works if you prefer a duffel-style bag. Bomber construction, convertible straps, and Patagonia’s warranty means they’ll fix it if it breaks. It will not break.

Whichever bag you choose, pack it to about 80% capacity. You need room for things you pick up along the way — a bottle of olive oil from that market in Puglia, the hat you bought because you forgot sunscreen.

The Capsule Wardrobe Approach

Pack clothes that all work together. Every top matches every bottom. Every layer works over every shirt. This sounds restrictive until you realize it means you never stand in a hotel room thinking “I have nothing to wear” while staring at a full suitcase.

For a 7-14 day trip in a mild climate:

3 shirts/tops (two solid colors, one pattern)
2 pairs of pants/shorts (one can be jeans if you’re flying in them)
1 light jacket or overshirt
1 packable rain shell
5 pairs of underwear (merino wool if you want to do laundry less)
3 pairs of socks
1 nicer outfit piece (a button-down or dress that elevates what you already packed)

Wear your bulkiest items on the plane. Boots, jeans, jacket. Your carry-on thanks you.

Packing Cubes: The Non-Negotiable

I resisted packing cubes for years because they seemed like a solution looking for a problem. I was wrong. They compress your clothes, keep your bag organized, and make repacking at 6am in a dim hostel room actually possible.

Eagle Creek Ultralight Compression Cubes are the standard. The compression zipper saves real space. Get the starter set with three sizes.

Peak Design Packing Cubes are nicer and fit their bags perfectly, but work with any bag. More expensive, marginally better.

Roll your clothes, don’t fold them. Rolling compresses tighter and wrinkles less. T-shirts, underwear, and socks get rolled. Button-downs get folded once and laid flat on top.

Toiletries

This is where most people blow their carry-on strategy. You don’t need full-size anything.

Get a clear quart-size bag (TSA requires it, most countries don’t, bring it anyway) and fill it with:

Solid shampoo bar (Ethique or HiBar — lasts weeks, no liquid limits)
Small tube of toothpaste
Deodorant
Sunscreen (the one thing you should never buy at your destination — airport sunscreen is $18 for a travel size)
Any medications

Everything else — body wash, conditioner, lotion — your hotel or Airbnb will have it, or you can buy it locally for less than the checked bag fee you just avoided.

Tech and Electronics

Bring:

Phone and charger
One universal adapter (the Epicka is $12 and covers every outlet type)
A small power bank (Anker 10000mAh fits in a pocket)
Kindle or book (not both)
Headphones

Leave home:

The laptop (unless you’re working remotely, and even then, think hard about it)
The camera with three lenses (your phone is fine, your trip is not a photo shoot)
The tablet (what are you using this for that your phone can’t do?)

Every cable and charger goes in one small pouch. I use a generic grid-it organizer. It keeps everything from tangling into the rat’s nest that lives at the bottom of everyone else’s bag.

The Shoes Problem

Shoes are the packing enemy. They’re bulky, heavy, and you always want one more pair than you have room for. The answer is two pairs, maximum.

Pair one: Something you can walk ten miles in. Trail runners work for cities and light hikes. Allbirds if you want something that cleans up for dinner.

Pair two: Sandals or flip-flops for the beach, the hostel shower, and the flight. Birkenstocks if you want them to double as going-out shoes. Cheap rubber flip-flops if you don’t.

Wear the heavier pair on the plane. Pack the lighter pair.

Doing Laundry on the Road

This is the unlock. If you’re willing to do laundry once a week, you can pack for a two-week trip the same as a four-day trip.

Most cities have laundromats. Most hostels have a washing machine. Most Airbnbs have one too. A wash-and-fold service in Southeast Asia costs $2. In Europe, maybe $8-10.

For quick hand-washing, pack a flat rubber sink stopper (weighs nothing, fits anywhere) and a small tube of Dr. Bronner’s. Wash in the sink, wring out, hang to dry overnight. Merino wool dries fast and doesn’t smell. Cotton does neither.

What You’ll Forget (And Where to Buy It)

You will forget something. It doesn’t matter. Unless you’re trekking to a remote village in the Himalayas, every city on earth sells toothbrushes, socks, phone chargers, and whatever else slipped your mind. The cost of replacing a forgotten item is always less than the cost of overpacking “just in case.”

The best-packed bag isn’t the one with everything you might need. It’s the one with only what you will use, with room left over for the things you haven’t found yet.