BuzzFeed and our publishing partners may collect a share of sales or other compensation from the links on this page. Read More

I haven’t had to chase my socks across a German airport since I bought this suitcase.

The turning point for me was a ferry ride in Bora Bora. My bag took a dive into a puddle of saltwater and engine grease. While the shell looked like it had been through a war, it didn’t crack, and the mess buffed out in five minutes back at the hotel. (Side note: the melamine sponge that’s included with certain suitcases is the only reason my light pink bag doesn’t look like a charcoal drawing.)

I started with the Bigger Carry-On in “blush pink” (later upgraded to the expandable version in black), then added The Large in black for longer trips, and most recently, The Medium (also in black) — now my go-to whenever I need to check a bag but don’t want the extra weight during a trip with an adventurous itinerary.

Unlike budget bags that are essentially disposable, or luxury bags that feel like fragile heirlooms, Away hits the sweet spot. Their lifetime warranty is the real deal. I’ve had a couple of minor repairs needed over the years (usually after a particularly brutal international flight), and their customer service team handled it without the usual corporate headache.

Here’s the breakdown of what I’ve hauled across the globe — and why most of it ended up in the donate pile.

We’ve all been there — eyeing a hardside at Marshalls or Costco because it’s $80 and looks “sturdy enough.” Spoiler: it isn’t. I’ve had zippers jam in the middle of a pack and handles start to rattle the moment they hit a New York curb. The breaking point for me was at the Munich International Airport five years ago; my “budget” bag literally burst on the claim belt, sending my laundry on a solo tour of the terminal. I decided then that I was too old to be chasing my socks across an airport.

I have a lot of respect for brands like American Tourister and Samsonite. They are the tanks of the industry for a reason. But for someone who lives out of a suitcase, they have quirks that drive me wild: they’re heavy enough to eat into my weight limit before I’ve even packed a pair of shoes, and the wheels “glide” on marble but tend to “struggle” on literally any other surface.

I’ll admit it: I spent a long time lusting after a Rimowa. I eventually borrowed a friend’s aluminum shell for a week, and while it felt like a tank, it was also a heavy, unforgiving one. Aluminum doesn’t “give.” If you’re a chronic overpacker like me, you need a shell that can bulge slightly to accommodate that one last souvenir. For the price of a (very) used car, I expected a bag that made my life easier; instead, I just felt like I was carrying a very expensive, very dent-prone briefcase.

I’ve looked at Monos, July, Beis, and the rest. They’re fine — some are even great. But many feel like riffs on the same polycarbonate idea without the same long-term reliability. When you’ve been using the same bag for a decade, you start to notice the small things, like how the telescoping handle holds up or if the wheels still “float” after a mile on cobblestones.