THANKS TO a recently rediscovered page from his famous notebooks, we now know what Leonardo Da Vinci packed when he was going away: spectacles, a towel and shoelaces. The perfect Ryanair passenger.
But wait. Leonardo also packed a pane of glass, a surgical knife, a bone saw and a lot of drawing paraphernalia. He reminded himself that he had to get hold of a human skull, presumably before his departure. And nutmeg. And then he probably had to go back to the house because he’d left the immersion on. As we all know, leaving the house is an absolute nightmare.
This to-do list of Leonardo is due to go on public display in London, at Buckingham Palace, on May 4th. Along with his slightly more well-known anatomical drawings, it has been part of the Royal Collection since the 17th century. Surely the pre-departure to-do list is the more exciting exhibit, because it provides incontrovertible proof that packing has been a pain in the neck since at least 1510.
Leonardo died in 1519. The to-do list is thought to pertain to a trip he was taking in 1510 to the medical school at Pavia, south of Milan. It is known that Leonardo was at Pavia a little after the list was made, dissecting corpses. It was an activity holiday.
So Leonardo made the list of boots, stockings, comb, shirts, penknife, pens, gloves, wrapping paper and charcoal. And that pane of glass. You know how it is.
Packing light – or packing lite – has become a virtue. All those annoying people who step off aircraft in a superior way, with just a small hand grip which is half empty, as you struggle with the newspapers, your bottle of water, the duty-free, the emergency food supplies and all the medicines required for a trip to a foreign clime like Bolton, and so on.
Like many virtues, packing light is impossible to practise in the real world. Or, to put it another way, most of those unhurried people with relaxed hand luggage have houses in the country they’re flying to.
Real estate has not yet been publicly acknowledged as a key factor in packing. The season is approaching in which very thin Englishwomen will have the alleged contents of their suitcase laid out and photographed in a sort of lifestyle diagram, with each item labelled, as they tell us how to emulate their carry-on chic.
Actually, the packing season has already arrived. A source close to The Irish Times has gone to the south of France for five days with four pairs of shoes, two bras and, as she said herself, “Four pairs of trousers and one pair of jeans.”
A highly organised person, her decision- making process was scuppered by the twin considerations of climate and occasion – both totally unpredictable. In this context she did pretty well, even if she was half a kilo over the cabin luggage limit. If Leonardo was so damn clever, why didn’t he design the wheelie suitcase?
I, on the other hand, cannot even pack to go camping – just bring socks – and am taking four coats, two cardigans and an innumerable amount of boots to a weekend in the country. Because you never know. In the country.
I continue to pursue my holiday policy of saving your nicest things for good, and so only wearing them on the last day of your holiday, when your hosts have already decided you’ve really let yourself go. I blame my mother for this.
So any advice on effective packing would be gratefully received. Instead, those thin Englishwomen peddle a sort of packing pornography. For example, when all the alleged contents of their suitcase are laid out, the one-piece swimsuit will have this sort of label: “My one-piece! Doubles as evening top with a simple sarong and statement necklace for dinner by the pool.”
There is only one answer to this, and it is “No”. The day a grown-up uses her swimsuit as evening wear – what, the Speedo logo goes with everything? – is the day that you’re ready to be classified as mentally unfit to fly.
We’re going to skip over the picture of the furled pashmina with the “Doubles as a blanket and is a great protector against the airport chill!” Because you left your own pashmina in the airport bar, actually.
Then there are the super-flat shoes, “Perfect for sightseeing!” says the packing pornography, when you know for a fact that if you wore them for an hour you’d have to be choppered back to the hotel with serious hamstring strain.
And finally, and most fatally, there are the roll-up dresses. These famous, shapeless roll- up dresses, according to the packing experts, “Don’t take up any suitcase space! Just add leggings if it gets chilly.” There are very few adult women who can wear a shapeless dress with leggings without looking as if they attend a sheltered workshop, and not in a good way.
Of course those of us in overpackers’ anonymous, instead of trying to meet every contingency, might be better off making no concessions at all. We could just pack an Aran sweater and a string of pearls, and to hell with the rest of it. That could turn out quite well.