The Most Affordable Packing Tool Is Also the Best

Although even the most haphazard fill-’em-and-squish-’em technique will help you save space, there is an art to making each parcel as small as possible.

After a few trips, I’ve learned that these bags work best when I haven’t egregiously overstuffed them. For example, you can save more space in your suitcase by splitting up 10 T-shirts into two bags with five shirts each rather than putting all 10 into one bag. Overstuffing can make it hard to get all the air out, which defeats the purpose.

I’ve also learned that it’s easier to compress these bags when I don’t mix categories of clothes — socks, for instance, compress into tighter parcels with other socks than when packed with underwear and T-shirts.

I’ve come to rely on the various sizes for different tasks, too. After an airline lost my suitcase in 2019, I became somewhat paranoid about being stuck in any one place without a change of clothes in my carry-on. I now use the very smallest size of compression bag (about as big as a gallon-size freezer bag) to pack an extra day’s worth of clothes into my backpack. Compressed, this parcel comes out to the size of a banana.

I like to use one of the extra-large bags as my dirty-laundry bag on longer trips. Finding ways to pack dirty clothes at the end of a trip can be a hassle, but compression bags make easy work of it. I neatly fold every dirty item of clothing flat into a single bag, which I then compress at the end of my trip. The mega bag of laundry fits perfectly into my suitcase and also quarantines the dirty from the still-clean. (Having extra bags also makes it easy for me to pack clothes I might have purchased while on vacation.)

And if you, like me, are paranoid about bedbugs, having vacuum-sealed dirty laundry allows you to dump your clothes straight into the dryer when you get home, minimizing the risk of letting critters loose in your home.

These bags have one major downside: wrinkles. Fabrics such as thick cotton knits, polyester, and merino are fairly good at shedding creases on their own, so they weather the bags well, but I definitely wouldn’t recommend using these bags for thinner, finer fabrics or any formal clothes you might want looking crisp ahead of an event, especially if you won’t have time to iron. A dress shirt or dress would most definitely come out of compression looking rumpled.

The other, smaller inconvenience is that unlike packing cubes, which have a defined shape, compression bags can often shrink into irregularly shaped parcels. As a result, they don’t necessarily fit neatly into a suitcase, and it may take some Tetris-ing to figure out the right layout. However, they are pliable, and you can fold them or lay them flat depending on which way they’ll fit better into your suitcase.

These compression bags have not solved all of Vacation Alex’s afflictions. I am still generally (though less) afraid of bedbugs. I still become overly maudlin upon departure from basically anywhere. I still completely fail to track my spending when using foreign currencies, even (or especially) those with unfavorable exchange rates. I still manage to catch zero hours of sleep on any red-eye, and I still cannot keep myself from bringing home half a dozen books.

Most notably, I still end up filling my suitcase with stacks of clothes I will probably never work up the nerve to wear, even half a world away from my usual routines. But that is okay. It is the dream of wearing them that matters most — the act of packing visions of a different self into my suitcase with the hope that it will blossom far from home. Usually, the place for dreams in my suitcase is superseded almost entirely by essentials, such as sunscreen and underwear. That is no longer the case. Now, my vacation dreams are bigger and more unfettered than ever before. And so is my bag.

This article was edited by Hannah Rimm and Maxine Builder.