Rimowa: engineering comes at a cost

Packing is a hobby, right?

I don’t travel loads, but I travel often enough that I spend a lot of time, money and effort optimising my setup. Packing cubes, folding hooks, smart washbags… multiple packing lists… you get the idea. My family often remark that I seem to enjoy the packing more than the trip itself (a touch of the ‘tism, perhaps).

The first consideration is: what do I pack in? On a family road trip it is likely a duffel or two that I can shove in the car, but when a flight is involved, it’s the good ol’ suitcase.

Like many people, I avoid checking luggage wherever possible. It’s not just the fear of having my suitcase lost or delayed (although I’ve had that happen a couple of times), but also the annoyance of waiting at the carousel for half an hour when I could be in a taxi home or to my hotel.

I have tried one-bagging shorter trips with a backpack, but the compromises in what I can bring, and the weight on my shoulders, get tiring. So for solo business travel, my preferred setup has settled on a cabin-sized Samsonite soft-sided spinner case, with my work backpack resting on top. It has served me well for trips up to a week, and the case is probably eight years old now and a little grubby, but functionally perfect.

From Samsonite to Rimowa

That hasn’t stopped me daydreaming of something better. For literally years I have been checking out Rimowa cases, completely suckered by the luxe brand and the engineered aluminium aesthetic. I’m on the /r/rimowa Reddit, I like the Insta posts, I read the reviews, the griping about quality declines after LVMH took over.

This year I jumped on the bandwagon, finally deciding that it was ridiculous to daydream about suitcases. I ordered the Original Cabin in the classic silver, and it cost me £1,070 delivered. Yes, a grand for a suitcase. Rimowa doesn’t do sales, or discount codes, the pricing is the same from every retailer, and it only ever goes up. So I figured now was as good a time as any to buy.

It arrived in a couple of days in a stout box via premium courier. I unboxed, removed the cotton protective bag, registered the serial number into my Rimowa account, and settled down to have a good long look at where my money went.

Now, a few weeks later and after taking my first long-haul trip with it, I have some thoughts. None of these observations are original, but they are mine.

Paying for European manufacturing

First: this suitcase is still made in Germany, or so the label inside states. As a proud European, that actually matters to me quite a bit, and I am keen to support manufacturing in my home region. It’s one reason I bought a car made in Sweden, why I wear clothes made in the UK, etc.

I understand and value that part of the price tag is paying for a living wage in an expensive market, and for the manufacturing to be done in line with European environmental and safety standards. I see plenty of manufacturing videos from factories in India and other low-wage countries, where staff wear safety sandals and safety squints, and where pollutants end up straight in the nearest river. No thank you.

Heavy metal

Second: the weight. Everyone comments on it, but it is indeed quite a shock to come from a fabric case to an aluminium one. Basically, the Rimowa when empty weighs the same as my Samsonite when full.

That’s not actually a problem for me because I can still lift it easily into the overhead, and carry it up and down stairs. I got the Cabin size, and it fit very easily in the overhead on a 777. Luckily I was in business class, and didn’t have to fight for a spot in the bin.

Something to hang onto

Third: the handles. All three handles are large, spacious and solid feeling, but I was unpleasantly surprised by Rimowa’s handles in two ways.

• One: the main handle on the short side is heavily sprung and, when released, slams into the body of the case quickly and loudly. On the long side, a rubber bumper at least quietens the noise. I read reports of some newer cases having slow-close; mine definitely does not.

• Two: the telescopic handle is shaped so that it is impossible to unlatch and extend one-handed. The button is angled, so pressing it causes the case to roll away from you. I had to brace it or hold it with my other hand every time. When you’re in a busy airport and your hands are full, that’s annoying.

Roll with it

Fourth: the wheels. The famous Rimowa wheels. They are, indeed, great. Quiet, smooth, and they roll straight. Apparently they have a degree of suspension. On smooth pavement and in the airport they are a pleasure, and definitely superior to my old Samsonite. Overall the case is very stable to roll, and never once threatened to tip over on me.

Pack-man

Fifth: the packing experience. This was a bit of a shock to the system. In short, packing this case sucks compared to my old soft-side Samsonite, although mostly in very predictable ways:

• It’s a clamshell, which means you have to split your stuff across two very flat sides. I struggled to get a pair of dress shoes to fit, since whether flat or on their sides they were taller than the side of the case.

• There is absolutely no give. My Samsonite was not only soft, but had an expanding zip. Bought some souvenirs? Cram em in and it will fit. Not the case with the Rimowa. If you overfill one side even a bit, the case will not close.
• Even if you don’t overfill the case, you had better use packing cubes. Any loose fabric or other objects will poke around the dividers and sneak its way into the joint between the two halves of the case when you swing it shut, and you will always be tucking stuff back inside.

• The corners. Rimowa cases have very rounded corners. This eats into capacity in a noticeable way. The channels for the telescopic handle also eat a lot of capacity on one side. This is not a big case by any means.

• The dividers. These curiously mount about halfway up each clamshell side, which means they really get in the way when you’re trying to pack shoes or other large/delicate objects. Depending on whether you run the cinch straps over or under your stuff, it’ll get cinched down or lifted up. Bizarre. The velcro is not particularly confidence-inspiring, either.

• Organisation. There is a flat zip pocket in each of the clamshell dividers (I used them for neckties). Aside from that, there is no organisation at all. No airtag pocket, no shoe dividers, no hangar hook, no passport pocket, nothing.
• Access. With a normal ‘front flap’ cabin suitcase, you can lay the case down and quickly unzip part of the flap, or the whole flap, and reach in to grab an item. With a hardshell clamshell design like this, You have to fully open the case and flap half the weight of your case over. There is no ‘quick access’: it always takes tons of space and fully opens your shit to the world.

Close but no cigar

Sixth: the latches. These have got a lot of flak online for seemingly being plastic. Indeed, they may have some structural metal inside but they feel like plastic inside and out.

They work well: latching is quick (as long as you haven’t overpacked), and once done up they feel very secure. The combination locks are a bit finicky — the numbers are only visible when you’re looking straight-on at them, and the wheels are stiff — but they ultimately work fine too.

Balancing act

Sounds like a long list of quibbles, doesn’t it? A super expensive case that is heavy and difficult to pack. Awesome. Ant, you are a world-class chump.

Having sat with my thoughts for a while, I don’t regret buying the Rimowa. It has some essential qualities that to me more than balance out the quibbles.

For a start, there’s the aesthetic. Yes, this is totally what Rimowa trades on and it is also totally justified. This is a refined, industrial and very good-looking case, and when you’re in your very best smart-casual, rolling your way into the lounge, your inner show-off snob can’t help but get a little giddy. Your Monos or Away or whatever other semi-premium case just doesn’t have the cachet. Tumi and Halliburton, come at me.

Then there’s the engineering. It may be heavy, and unforgiving of overpacking, but this is a very well-built and sustainable case. Rimowas are built to be repaired: you can swap the wheels yourself if you need to. There’s no zip to split. The handles feel extremely robust. Yes, there are horror photos across the tinterweb of torn and dented Rimowas (mostly after being checked, to be fair), but there is a reason why Rimowas come with lifetime warranties.

Even the clamshell construction, which I moaned about earlier, has advantages once you adapt to them. With your packing spread out across two shallow layers, it’s much easier to find and access anything, no digging around. The latches compress a silicone seal between the two halves when closed, assuring a degree of waterproofing.

As I said at the start, I don’t travel loads. No amount of mental gymnastics will justify me buying a £1,000 luxury suitcase. This is very much an irrational whimsy purchase. But like a Swiss watch or a pair of Loake shoes it’s a little bit about signalling taste — and more than that, about appreciating craft and engineering, and choosing where you make your compromises with a bit of intention.