Most travel gear for 2026 is overpriced junk and I’m tired of it

I’ve logged 42 flights in the last 18 months, and if I see one more person trying to sell me a ‘smart’ suitcase with a built-in toaster, I’m going to lose it. Most of the ‘best travel accessories 2026’ lists you’re seeing right now are written by people who haven’t left their home office in three years. They’re just regurgitating press releases for products that will end up in a landfill by 2027.

The ‘Smart’ luggage lie

Let’s get this out of the way: smart luggage is a scam. I know people will disagree with me on this because they love the idea of charging their phone from their suitcase, but it’s a logistical nightmare. I bought a Rimowa-adjacent ‘tech’ bag last year—spent way too much, probably $600—and the TSA at O’Hare made me take the battery out. Except the battery was jammed. I ended up on the floor of Terminal 3 with a multi-tool, sweating, while a line of angry business travelers stared at my back. What I mean is—actually, let me put it differently. If your luggage requires a firmware update, you’ve failed at traveling.

The only thing that matters in 2026 is weight. Airlines are getting aggressive. I’ve seen Lufthansa gate agents weighing carry-ons with the intensity of a diamond appraiser. I switched to the Osprey Daylite 26+6. It’s not sexy. It doesn’t have a Bluetooth tracker. But it weighs 840 grams. That’s it. That’s the whole trick.

The Berlin incident (and why neck pillows are dead)

I used to be a neck pillow guy. I had the OstrichPillow Go, which makes you look like you’re wearing a massive, bulbous life support system. In May 2024, I was flying from Berlin Brandenburg at 4 AM. I was so tired I didn’t realize the magnetic clasp had snagged on a stray thread of my sweater. When I tried to rip it off to get through security, I ended up unraveling half my sleeve and knocking over a display of overpriced Mozartkugeln. I looked like a crazy person. I felt like one, too.

Since then, I’ve realized neck pillows are just bulky security blankets for adults. If you can’t sleep on a plane without a $80 foam donut, you probably won’t sleep with one either. Now I just use a thick cashmere scarf. It’s a blanket, it’s a pillow if you bunch it up, and you don’t look like a confused turtle while walking through the terminal. It’s versatile. Neck pillows are uni-tasking junk.

I refuse to buy anything from Bellroy anymore. I know everyone loves them, but every wallet I’ve had from them starts smelling like a wet basement after two weeks of humidity. Maybe it’s my sweat. Maybe it’s their leather. I don’t care. Never again.

The boring stuff that actually works

I spent three months testing power banks because I’m a nerd who tracks mAh-to-weight ratios in a spreadsheet. I tested six different ones over the winter. Most ‘high-capacity’ bricks are lying about their output.

• Nitecore NB10000: This thing is the gold standard. It’s exactly 150 grams. It feels like a carbon fiber wafer. It’s the only battery I’ve found that doesn’t feel like a literal brick in my pocket.
• Wired Earbuds: I might be wrong about this, but Bluetooth is a liability when you’re traveling. I’ve lost one Airpod down a bus drain in Hanoi. I’ve had my Sony XM5s die over the Atlantic. Now? I carry a pair of $19 Apple EarPods with a USB-C connector. No charging. No pairing issues. Total reliability.
• Matador FlatPak Soap Bar Case: This is a weird one. It’s a bag for bar soap that lets the soap dry through the fabric. It sounds like magic, but it works. I hate carrying liquid soap—it always leaks. Always.

Anyway, I digress. The point is that the best gear is the stuff you forget you’re carrying. If you have to think about your gear, it’s bad gear.

A hill I will die on: Paper maps

This is my most uncomfortable take: You should carry a physical map of the city you’re visiting. I know, I know. ‘Google Maps is better.’ ‘Just download offline maps.’ I used to think that too. I was completely wrong.

Last year in Tokyo, my phone died, my power bank (a cheap Mophie I’ve since thrown away) failed, and I realized I had no idea how the subway lines actually connected visually. I was just following a blue dot. Carrying a paper map—even a small one—forces you to build a mental model of where you are. Plus, nobody steals a paper map. It’s the ultimate low-tech security feature. People who rely 100% on their phones for navigation aren’t traveling; they’re just being remotely piloted by an algorithm. I know that sounds pretentious. I don’t care.

It’s a bit like trying to charge a phone at Heathrow; it’s like a medieval siege where everyone is fighting for one dirty outlet. Why put yourself through that? Just buy the map.

The $120 boot I’ve bought four times

I’m irrationally loyal to the Blundstone 510. I don’t care if there are ‘better’ technical hiking boots out there in 2026 with Gore-Tex Infinity or whatever. I’ve worn these in 100-degree heat in Mexico and through slush in Montreal. They look fine in a decent restaurant and they don’t have laces, which makes airport security a breeze. I’ve tried ‘travel-specific’ shoes like Allbirds (too flimsy) and Tropicfeel (too ugly). I keep coming back to the Blundstones. I’ll probably buy a fifth pair next year.

I’m also convinced that packing cubes are mostly a psychological trick. They don’t actually save space unless you’re using compression ones, and even then, you’re just trading space for weight. If you overstuff a compression cube, your bag becomes a lumpy cylinder that’s impossible to pack. I use one small cube for socks and underwear. Everything else gets rolled. It’s faster.

I don’t have a neat way to wrap this up. I’m just looking at my packing list for a trip to Lisbon next week and realizing that 90% of the ‘innovation’ in travel gear over the last two years has been focused on adding batteries and straps where they don’t belong.

Is it just me, or was travel gear actually better ten years ago when things were just made of canvas and zippers?

Go buy the Nitecore battery. Skip the smart suitcase. That’s my only real advice.