There’s a certain romance in the idea of travel that today’s TSA bins and four-wheeled polycarbonate rollers have done their best to suppress. And yet — somewhere between the customs line in Pudong and an espresso-and-Asahi-fueled layover in Tokyo — I found myself daydreaming not about my next destination, but about luggage. Not my dutiful Rimowa, sleek and ever-reliable, but something older… heavier… wildly impractical… but also, infinitely more charming.

Fresh off my journey to the Far East — soul full, suitcase certainly scratched — I’ve returned home with a deep appreciation for the modern marvels of engineered luggage. But truthfully? I’ve also returned with a desire for something more storied. Something that smells faintly of saddle leather and secrets. Something that belonged on a steamship beside a man in a three-piece suit who didn’t pack light because he never intended to be ordinary.

This longing isn’t new. It began, perhaps, when I stumbled into a dusty little store tucked in the hills of Fiesole, just outside Florence, where I found a weathered Antigua travel trunk — its canvas torn, its soul certainly still intact. That one find inspired a series of Instagram reels — first an ode to the golden age of aviation, then ocean liners, and soon, a homage to the great hotels of the past, told through their stickers like stamps of character on a well-traveled man.

Because some luggage doesn’t just carry your clothes. It carries your stories. This piece is about that kind of luggage.

I. A Legacy Born in Transit

Timeless strength meets luxury -- legacy crafted in travel’s golden age.

Long before rolling suitcases loitered in overhead compartments, the travel trunk reigned supreme — an icon of ambition as much as mobility. Emerging in the 18th and 19th centuries, these early chests weren’t mere containers; they were declarations. Crafted from wood, leather, and canvas, riveted and reinforced, trunks were designed to endure the rigors of railcars, ship holds, and camel caravans alike.

Then came Louis Vuitton’s revolutionary flat-top trunk in 1858 — stackable, water-resistant, and quickly imitated. Soon after, Goyard and Moynat followed with their own haute iterations, and by the late 19th century, Globe-Trotter had introduced its vulcanised fibreboard marvel: astonishingly lightweight, yet tough enough to survive being trodden on by an elephant (an actual claim made in 1912 — because, of course, one might find themselves in such a situation).

These trunks accompanied explorers to Kilimanjaro, debutantes to Paris, and royals to colonial outposts. Hemingway’s typewriter crossed oceans in one. Jackie Kennedy’s essentials did too, albeit with a touch more flair. Cary Grant likely packed his tuxedo and insouciance in a Goyard wardrobe trunk en route to some Riviera rendezvous.

They were more than luggage — they were passports to a more glamorous form of existence. Today, to own one is not just to travel — it is to time travel. And frankly, who among us couldn’t use the upgrade?

II. Form Meets Function: The Art of Craftsmanship

There’s an alchemy to great luggage — where durability meets elegance, and practicality is elevated to poetry. It begins with materials that speak a language of intent. Globe-Trotter’s signature vulcanised fibreboard — a compressed paper-based material dating to 1897 — is deceptively light, yet strong enough to survive generations of abuse. Then there’s saddle-stitched leather, done by hand with two needles and no shortcuts — stronger, more beautiful, and infinitely more human than any machine can replicate. Add solid brass locks, cedar-lined interiors, and the scent of quality you can’t fake — and suddenly you’re not packing a suitcase. You’re preparing an heirloom.

But the difference lies deeper. Handmade means a craftsperson oversees every stitch and corner; hand-assembled often means production-line uniformity in disguise. One is legacy. The other is logistics.

Among the icons, Globe-Trotter evokes British colonial élan — somewhere between military precision and Maharaja excess. Smythson and Ettinger bring refined restraint, as if their bags whisper rather than shout. For the modern purist, brands like Serapian, Valextra, Carl Friedrik, and Lotuff Leather reinterpret old-world sensibility for a sleeker, global generation.

The best also offer customization: monogrammed initials, bespoke linings, secret compartments for timepieces, spirits, or classified correspondence (should the need arise).

This is craftsmanship for those who believe beauty should travel just as well as they do.

III. Why the Modern Man Still Invests

This is the trust tree here, so let’s all be honest – as much as I’m pushing this travel trunk narrative, a handcrafted travel trunk or full-grain leather weekender is not what one chooses for convenience. It won’t fit in every overhead bin, and it might take an extra second to polish the brass. But like a mechanical watch, a bespoke dinner jacket or a pair of oxfords designed for you from an artisan cobbler, it’s not about ease. It’s about intention.

To invest in luggage of this caliber is to signal something quietly powerful — that you believe in permanence, in patience, in the kind of craftsmanship that endures beyond trend cycles and terminal gates. It’s the antithesis of the disposable, the swipeable, the “overnight delivery” mindset. It doesn’t shout wealth; it suggests taste.

It appeals to the man who still writes postcards, who knows his whisky neat and his books linen-bound. The man who sees the romance not just in where he’s going, but in how he gets there — and what accompanies him along the way.

You don’t need a trunk to travel. But then again, you don’t need a Savile Row suit to leave the house either. You choose it because it feels like you. Because it says something — without needing to say anything at all.

IV. Trunks & Leather Goods in the Digital Age

In a world where most of our lives are lived through screens and swipes, the travel trunk has — ironically — never looked more appealing. It now serves double duty: a vessel for adventure and a symbol of taste. In Mayfair flats and converted Soho lofts, vintage trunks moonlight as coffee tables, bar carts, or objets d’art. Their worn edges and brass corners offer a tactile antidote to a world obsessed with pixels and polish.

Meanwhile, the modern luxury traveler is reviving the practice of traveling with intention. The humble weekender is now a statement piece. The dopp kit, once forgotten in favor of ziplocks and minimalism, has returned in hand-stitched leather. Instagram, for all its filtered excess, has played its part — romanticizing the jet-set days of Pan Am, the Orient Express, and matching luggage sets with an almost cinematic glow.

Today’s refined carry includes more than just clothes. A gentleman’s kit might feature a rich leather passport holder, a slim folio, and if he’s truly leaning in — an Arc & Iveagh-style ensemble: travel trunk, weekender, leather-bound journal, and silver flask. The gear of the modern explorer, tailored for timeless escapism.

V. What to Look For: A Curated Guide for the Discerning Buyer

Crafted for legacy, built to carry stories across generations; Bennett Winch does it right.

If you’re going to invest in travel gear that transcends trend and time, a discerning eye makes all the difference. Look for the non-negotiables: full-grain leather or vulcanised fibreboard for strength and character, solid brass or nickel hardware for lasting detail, and interior linings that speak to craftsmanship—suede, canvas, or even silk blends. A high stitch count, hand-burnished edges, and reinforced corners aren’t just aesthetic – they’re architectural.

Equally telling are the brands that make these pieces. Globe-Trotter remains a pillar of British travel elegance. Lotuff, Carl Friedrik (a few years ago I purchased a beautiful Palissy bag from them) and Valextra bring a tailored modernity. And then there’s Bennett Winch – a favorite of ours – not only for their impeccable build but for their sense of cinematic British masculinity. Their Suede S.C. Holdall in Tobacco Brown is a masterstroke: rugged & refined, with a built-in suit carrier, Italian suede shell, and quiet confidence that whispers “Bond, but with better taste.”

Customization also separates the good from the heirloom-worthy: monograms, unique linings, hidden compartments for cufflinks or vintage lighters. Because true travel companions aren’t chosen for price or popularity. They’re chosen because, like any good coat or well-worn novel, they stay with you for life.

VI. A Future Heirloom

A fine travel trunk or leather bag is never just about the journey at hand. It’s about the ones yet to come. These pieces don’t just carry belongings – they carry stories. Scuffs from a night train through the Balkans. A wine stain from that dinner in Tangier you still talk about. The faint scent of tobacco, salt air, or a well-worn cologne – each one a timestamp, etched not in ink, but in wear and patina.

True luxury isn’t loud – it’s lasting. And in a culture that often favors the fleeting, these pieces become anchors. Heirlooms in waiting. Something to pass on to a son or daughter (3 in my case) – not because of brand or price tag, but because of meaning.

This is the ethos we hold at Arc & Iveagh. Our forthcoming collection of outerwear, accessories, and travel pieces will be built not just for style, but for legacy. Crafted to endure. Designed to be remembered.

Because in a world racing toward the ephemeral, there’s something powerfully grounding about carrying your legacy – stitched, riveted, and burnished – by your side.