I hate to admit it after beating the rightsizing drum.  But the most essential wardrobe item on my recent trip to Santa Fe, NM, was a bright salmon microfiber shirt I’d tried to push on my friend Nancy a few months before in the name of rightsizing.

“It will look GREAT on you,” I insisted, “and I will never wear it again.”  It had been hanging in my closet unworn since a trip to Costa Rica in 2017, and seemed to check all the boxes for repurposing.  I hadn’t worn it for SIX years.  I didn’t intend to revisit Costa Rica. I’d rebuffed opportunities for other sunny climes, such as Africa.  And the long flappy shirt looked ridiculous for other domestic travel, aka the grocery store.

Months after Nancy politely rejected it, I threw it in my suitcase as a last-minute “layer.” And wore it four out of six days. How could this happen to someone who’s supposed the understand rightsizing?  The truth is, I’d become a “just-in-case” packer.

The jacket was just in case the forecast was correct, and the daytime temperature in New Mexico was pushing 90.  But what about evenings? The desert is unpredictable. What if it snowed?  Rained? What if we were suddenly struck by a wind storm?

By the time I’d just-in-cased the possibilities, I had packed two vests (fleece and quilted), a packable rain jacket, a knit jacket for the plane, a light windbreaker and a hoodie and (after reading a random article about desert snow storms), and a packable winter jacket with a cap.

In one humbling trip, I encountered  the rightsizer’s dilemma.  Next time I say “just in case,” should I picture the bright salmon shirt? Or those seven other jackets? At least I can brag that they rode back home in the otherwise empty packable duffel I packed “just in case” I bought souvenirs. Which I did not. Except a few small ones.