Clamshell suitcases are a scam designed by people who only stay in massive suburban Marriotts.
I said it. I’ve spent about 142 nights in hotels over the last three years, and I am officially done with the “butterfly” opening. You know the one—where you have to clear off a six-foot stretch of floor space just to get a fresh pair of socks because the bag splits exactly down the middle. It’s a logistical nightmare that we’ve all just accepted as the standard for hard-shell luggage. But it shouldn’t be.
I remember being in Paris in 2019, staying at this tiny place called Hotel de la Bretonnerie. The room was maybe 110 square feet. I had this beautiful, expensive Away carry-on that I’d bought because everyone on Instagram had one. To get my toothbrush out, I had to lay the bag flat on the bed, which meant I couldn’t sit down. If I put it on the floor, I couldn’t reach the bathroom door. I ended up stepping over my own clothes for four days like I was navigating a minefield. It was pathetic. I felt like a tourist who had been sold a lie about “organization.”
That was the breaking point. I realized that carry on luggage top open designs are the only rational choice for anyone who actually travels in the real world.
The footprint problem (and why your hotel room feels small)
The math is simple. A clamshell bag requires 2x its width to open. A top-loader requires 1x. What I mean is—actually, let me put it differently. A top-loader works like a trunk. You flip the lid up, it stays leaning against a wall, and you live out of the main compartment. It’s about the footprint, not the volume.
I used to think clamshells were better because they kept things separated. I was completely wrong. Splitting your gear into two shallow halves just means you have two messy piles instead of one deep, organized one. Plus, if you’re using a luggage rack (the ones hotels provide that are always slightly too small), a clamshell will literally flop off the sides. It’s like trying to perform an autopsy on a dining table; there’s just stuff everywhere and no room to work.
If you’re still traveling with a bag that splits down the middle, you’re basically carrying around a folding table that you don’t need.
Anyway, I digress. I should probably mention that I’ve clocked exactly 412 miles on my current Lojel Cubo wheels across four continents, so I’m not just talking out of my ass here. I’ve tested the physics of this.
The brands that actually get it right
There aren’t many. Most companies are too busy copying the Away aesthetic to innovate. But a few are doing the lord’s work.
- Lojel Cubo: This is the gold standard. It’s a hard-shell bag that opens from the top. It’s 37 liters, weighs about 3.2kg (7 lbs), and has a dedicated laptop sleeve on the front. I’ve dropped mine down a flight of stairs in Tokyo and it didn’t even flinch.
- July Carry On Pro: I have mixed feelings about July. Their wheels are incredible—silent and smooth—but the bag is heavy. We’re talking 3.9kg (8.6 lbs) before you even put a shirt in it. That’s a lot of weight to sacrifice for a “premium” feel.
- L.L. Bean Soft-Sided: I know, it’s not “cool.” But soft-sided bags have been top-loading for decades. We just forgot about them because we got distracted by shiny polycarbonate.
I might be wrong about this, but I think the July Carry On Pro is actually a bit of a vanity purchase. People buy it for the custom monogramming, not the utility. I own one, and I find myself reaching for the Lojel 90% of the time because those extra 0.7kg really matter when you’re trying to lift it into an overhead bin on a Lufthansa flight where the flight attendants are acting like weight-limit hawks.
The part where I tell you what I really hate
I refuse to recommend Monos. I know every travel blogger on the planet has an affiliate link for them, but I can’t do it. Their colors look like muted hospital walls, and the finish scratches if you even look at it funny. More importantly, they are the kings of the clamshell. They’ve doubled down on a design that is fundamentally flawed for anyone staying in a room smaller than a palace. I’ve seen people struggling with those things in the back of Ubers, trying to zip them up while the bag is sprawled across the seat. It’s embarrassing.
And don’t even get me started on Rimowa. Spending $1,000 on a carry-on is basically just paying a tax for being insecure. You’re buying a status symbol that screams “I have more money than travel experience.” Those metal latches are heavy, they leak in the rain, and they dent the first time a baggage handler gets annoyed. Total waste.
I know people will disagree, but hard-shell luggage is actually overrated anyway. I’ve started to think that a high-quality soft-sided top-loader is actually more “premium” because it’s functional. It has external pockets. It flexes. It doesn’t look like a cheap plastic toy after three trips.
The logistics of packing a “deep” bag
People complain that top-loaders are “black holes.” They say you lose stuff at the bottom. This is a skill issue, not a design flaw. Use packing cubes. One for shirts, one for pants, one for the miscellaneous junk. When you get to the hotel, you don’t even have to unpack. You just flip the lid—which is like a hatch on a submarine—and grab the cube you need.
I tested this. In a standard Lojel Cubo (Small), I can fit:
– 5 days of clothes
– A pair of Chelsea boots
– My tech kit
– A heavy wool coat (compressed)
– A laptop
Try doing that in a clamshell without the bag looking like it’s about to burst at the seams. It’s impossible because you’re fighting the middle zipper the whole time. With a top-loader, gravity is on your side. You just stack and compress.
I used to be obsessed with having a “perfectly balanced” suitcase. I thought the 50/50 split was more stable. It’s not. Most top-loaders keep the weight lower and closer to the wheels, which actually makes them easier to maneuver through crowds.
Never again will I go back to the butterfly.
I honestly don’t know why the industry shifted so hard toward clamshells. Maybe it’s because they look better in product photos when they’re laid out flat on a white studio floor. But nobody lives in a studio. We live in cramped planes, tiny trains, and hotels where the only available surface is a desk that’s already covered in “Welcome” brochures.
If you’re looking for a new bag, just do yourself a favor and look for the words “front opening” or “top loading.” It’ll save your sanity, even if it doesn’t look as cool on your Instagram feed.
Is it weird that I care this much about how a box with wheels opens? Probably. But when you’re tired, jet-lagged, and just want to find your pajamas without rearranging your entire life on a hotel floor, you’ll get it.
Buy the Lojel. Avoid the hype. Travel better.
