What to pack when you need to evacuate
Something a little different this week.
Editor’s note: I had an entirely different newsletter planned for today. Instead of scheduling it ahead of time like I normally do, I decided to take one more look at it this morning before sending. I’m glad I did, because it just didn’t feel right in light of everything that’s been going on this week. I’ll send it next week, but in the meantime, here’s something a little more topical.
I had an incredibly hard time focusing this week. I have many family members, friends, and coworkers who live in L.A. and while everyone is thankfully ok, many of them have had to evacuate and/or prepare to evacuate due to the multiple fires burning throughout the county. My heart goes out to everyone who has lost their home, their school, their place of employment, their favorite restaurant, or any place that was meaningful to them. I can empathize but truly can’t even imagine how devastating that must feel. But as a wise person once said to me, when you’re feeling helpless, help someone else. With that in mind, the L.A. Times has a very comprehensive list of how to help the fire victims. I’ve already made a donation to World Central Kitchen and am preparing a box of new & unused toiletries (I have lots of these!) to send out. It’s the least I can do.
In the meantime, we’ve had five earthquakes in San Francisco in the last three days—four on Friday and one (so far) this morning. This is by no means anywhere near as serious as what’s going on in Southern California. The strongest quake was a 3.7 and lasted only a few seconds; if you’ve never experienced one, they can vary in rhythm but tend to feel like you’re sliding from side to side versus a vigorous rattle. Generally, these little earthquakes are a good thing: they help release seismic tension in the fault lines (thus hopefully mitigating a future bigger earthquake) and tend not to incur much damage. But they’re also a reminder that it’s been over 35 years since we’ve had a big earthquake in Northern California and one could happen at any time. Being prepared for one—or any other kind of natural disaster—obviously won’t prevent it from happening but can at least give you peace of mind that if it does, you can be ready to go in minutes.
We have a go-bag that lives above our refrigerator in our kitchen. It has face masks, flashlights, batteries, a first-aid kit, duct tape, nonperishable food, matches, a Swiss army knife, a tarp, water purification tablets, rope, and a few other supplies inside. We also keep two gallon jugs of water right next to it. You can assemble your own, or you can buy a ready-made one on Amazon. After the events of this week, I am putting together a personal go-bag with a full change of clothes, several pairs of underwear and socks, toiletries, reading glasses, and a towel. Many media outlets have reiterated the importance of not leaving the house without the 6 Ps as well, which are:
People & pets
Prescriptions & glasses
Papers: important documents, passsports, etc.
Pictures & irreplaceable things
Phone & PC
Plastic (e.g. credit cards) & cash
These are all things you hopefully keep in an easily accessible place and can grab quickly. I have a folder of my important papers that lives in my desk drawer (where my PC also is); all of my prescriptions are in the pantry, next to the cabinet with the go bag. My glasses, phone, and credit cards live in my purse, which is kept about 5 feet from my front door. But the one thing on this list that I find overwhelming is pictures and irreplaceable things. How do you decide what you absolutely can’t replace—and whether you can (or can’t) afford to take it with you in an emergency?
I was 23 years old and living in New York City on September 11, 2001. I woke up that morning to a live feed of one of the Twin Towers burning and watched as the 2nd plane crashed into the other tower. For some reason, probably shock, I decided to go to work that day (we were evacuated about 10 minutes after I got to my desk), and while I spent the rest of the day panic-watching CNN, I was thankfully safe. Later that evening, however, a bomb-sniffing dog laid down on the ground—which was apparently what it was trained to do when it sniffed a bomb—at the Empire State Building, which was four blocks away from my apartment at 37th and Madison. My friend Jamie called and told me to come over to her apartment immediately, and I remember having a split second to think about what I needed to save. I grabbed my jewelry box, my passport, and my checkbook (remember those?!), I threw them into my Kate Spade tote (remember those?!), and I made it 13 blocks uptown and 2 blocks crosstown in under 10 minutes. Of course, by the time I got to Jamie’s, they had determined that there was no bomb at the Empire State Building; the dog laid down because he was tired from sniffing bombs all day.
I will obviously never forget that day, and to be completely honest, I still have PTSD from it, almost 25 years later. But I will always remember what went through my mind when I thought there was a strong possibility my building was going to be blown to shreds: It’s just stuff. Now, I love stuff—I write a blog about shopping, after all—and yes, the home I own more has far more meaningful things in it than my crappy post-college walkup. I have my grandmother’s paintings and antiques, my father’s ashes, wine I’ve collected, the wardrobe I’ve spent years (and thousands of dollars) curating, and yes, photos and journals from my entire life. I would be wrecked if I lost any of it. But how do you decide what to pack when you have only moments to grab it? What do you take when you can bring only things you can carry? What’s worth saving and what can you handle letting go of? There are no right or wrong answers, but I hope these are decisions you never have to make.
This week on the blog
This is going to be an awkward transition no matter how I make it, so I’ll just say that if you need a little distraction or pick-me-up or whatever you want to call it, this week I’m sharing 10 beauty products I discovered (and really loved) last year. And know that I will never, ever judge you for indulging in a little retail therapy.