According to the Oxford English Dictionary, a globe-trotter is “a person who travels extensively around the world, originally typically in a hurried manner, esp. for the purpose of sightseeing.”
Not in my book, Oxonian lexicographers. “Globe-trotter” means my suitcase.
Ever since I bought an indestructible, navy-blue rectangle for my first sortie abroad with my then boyfriend, now husband, I won’t leave home without one. And I’m far more terrified of checking it than flying.
This is because when Ivo and I met at a London airport way back when, we carried identical Globe-Trotters. (It was a romantic skiing weekend in Megève, France. British Airways lost the suitcase, and I’ve never forgiven the airline.) It was then that I knew things between us would turn out fine.
Hand-made in England, each Globe-Trotter case is a signifier that the owner is not just a tourist, but an adventurer. Reader, I married him, not only for his choice of luggage. To this day, whenever I see a Globe-Trotter on a concourse or carousel, I know the owner is a fellow traveler (if not a future husband) and a potential friend for life.
As the 126-year-old company prepared to open a new flagship store in Paris this fall, I sneaked a trip to the factory in Hertfordshire, where it moved in 2012 from its original London home, a redbrick Victorian edifice on St. John Street in Clerkenwell.
The Factory is an old fiber-optics plant in an industrial corner of Hoddesdon, an hour’s drive north of London. As soon as you step inside, you can hear it, smell it, almost feel it. Quality. Heritage. Class.
A ziggurat of suitcases on an ancient porter’s luggage rack greeted me. Close examination revealed a collection spanning the company’s long history, from one of the oldest extant trunks made in Germany to a spanking-new cream-and-cornflower edition recently finished on-site.
Reader, I married him, not only for his choice of luggage.
Globe-Trotter was launched by a British entrepreneur in Germany in 1897 but relocated to England in 1930. That same year, it started using the tagline “The World’s Most Famous Suitcase” to discourage knockoffs.
As I stroked and examined an old brown case—marked “Saxony,” it’s way pre-war—I met my tour guide, Ed Walsh, Globe-Trotter’s head of marketing, who previously worked at the Jermyn St. shirtmaker Turnbull & Asser. He took me through the open-plan space to admire the old-school production line.
We started at one end, where the hides were dyed a rainbow of colors. Then we arrived at a stack of vulcanized fiberboard, the secret ingredient that makes each case strong yet lightweight. It consists of 14 layers of recycled paper bonded with zinc and is tougher than leather yet lighter than aluminum. Its quality was most memorably tested in the Zoological Gardens in Hamburg in 1912, when a one-ton elephant was led to stand on a Globe-Trotter cabin trunk and stepped off without leaving a dent.
This material was invented in 1859 by an Englishman, Thomas Taylor, and patented by Globe-Trotter in 1901. (As with Coca-Cola, the exact formula, which also involves a special solution and steamroller compression, remains one of the company’s best-kept secrets.) I watched as the fiberboard was laser-cut, bent on rollers, fitted over wooden frames, lipped with steel, covered in leather, lined in fabric, and ultimately boxed for delivery. Far more satisfying than Netflix.
A somewhat chaotic storage area contained an example of every case Globe-Trotter has ever made. (“I must come up here soon and sort this out,” said Walsh with a grimace.) Meanwhile, I drooled over the treasure.
And then we came to the photographic archive, a gallery of the greats. The late Queen Elizabeth II carried her papers in two Globe-Trotter briefcases. (They were stenciled The Queen, which suddenly made my RSJ cases seem much less smart than before.)
In the early 20th century, the British explorer Robert Falcon Scott took a Globe-Trotter all the way to his hut at the South Pole. Seventy years ago, Sir Edmund Hillary climbed Everest with his cases. And he wasn’t alone in his obsession—Winston Churchill wouldn’t leave Downing Street without his, either.
Today, Globe-Trotter fans include Eddie Redmayne, David Beckham, Kate Moss, Angelina Jolie, Rosamund Pike, Emma Watson, and Dakota Johnson. (Pike has a magnificent moss-green trunk with a brown leather belt and leather corners.)
Although Globe-Trotter ultimately yielded to the little rollers in 1988, its unofficial stance on them is disdain. In every photograph, the case is being toted, not trundled.
The release of every new Bond film is accompanied by a 007 edition. (For Skyfall, it was a chunky model in matte black.) The collaboration kicked off with Casino Royale; star Daniel Craig, a longtime Globe-Trotter customer, decided that if Bond had luggage, there was only one possible purveyor of it.
As a loyal, lifelong customer, I did encounter something disturbing in the design room. Just as I was admiring the dusty-green safari range, I spotted it: a two-wheeled carry-on, zipped into a padded black cover.
“What is that?” I exclaimed in horror.
“It’s a travel cover,” explained Walsh. “Some owners are very particular about damage and marks. We’re introducing it later this year.”
Never! Each case has a five-year guarantee, and Globe-Trotter’s repair service (which I’ve used several times over the years) is fabulous. At any rate, the entire point of the Globe-Trotter is that it accompanies you on life’s journey. Every scratch is like a scar, a wrinkle, a laughter line—evidence of a life well lived. For this fangirl, the more battered, the better. Like my husband, fine wine, and Joni Mitchell songs—especially “A Case of You”—some things only improve with age.
Rachel Johnson is a journalist and author. Her books include The Mummy Diaries, Notting Hell, and Rake’s Progress: The Madcap True Tale of My Political Midlife Crisis
