Before I had kids, I knew more or less how to dress. I wore shoes from the correct decade. I owned trendy purses. I was willing to iron. I never really set the fashion world on fire, but neither did I completely embarrass myself.

Fast forward a few years.

Many things went from bad to worse for me in the postpartum period. Sleep, personal hygiene, and exercise all come to mind, but in fact my sartorial standards were actually the first to go. Suddenly I understand what Gilda Radner was talking about when she said she based most of her fashion sense on what doesn’t itch.

Comfort is my new true north, and nowhere is this more evident than when I travel. I submit the following as evidence:

I wear a backpack. Not the cute kind.
Backpacks are the least glamorous method of getting your personal effects from Point A to Point B (unless you count fanny packs, a low to which I have not yet stooped). I spent a few years in messenger bag denial, before crossing over to the dark side. Now I look like I’ve just stepped out the pages of an LLBean catalog, even when I’m in, say, Paris. When your packing manifesto includes diapers, snacks, water, pacifiers, restaurant toys, a camera, and a guidebook, it’s time to say uncle people.

Evening wear? Ha ha ha ha ha.
I literally cannot remember the last time I ate in a dressy restaurant at night on a trip. Our restaurant meal of choice is lunch, and I generally get by with a black wrap-around skirt from REI. It’s not exactly couture, but it’s better than shorts. Also, it goes well with my footwear.

I actually like ugly shoes.
Many years ago in Istanbul, I saw a middle-aged American woman wearing Tevas in the Blue Mosque. As I limped past her in my stylish kitten-heeled sandals, I had the hubris to think unkind thoughts about her footwear ethos. Oh, how the mighty have fallen! Pictured here are the three finalists for my trip to England and Spain last summer. Orthopedic much?

I would sooner eat a caterpillar than wear a thong.
I’ve staked my entire career on the fact that traveling with young kids is rewarding, important, and life changing. Also? It is really, really effing annoying. Kids have no filters. When mine are bored, glad, punchy, sad, giddy, mad, tired, hot, or cold, I hear about it. I spend 75% of all waking hours gritting my teeth when we travel. So why would I wear a garment whose entire raison d’être is annoying me? Visible panty lines? Please. That is the least of my problems.

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Jamie Pearson is a writer, mother of two, and the founder of travelsavvymom. She has traveled extensively with and without her children.

Her top three pieces of family travel advice are 1) Never leave home without peanut butter, 2) No child is too big for a stroller, and 3) Bring plenty of new toys—$50 for three pounds of plastic crap will seem like the deal of the century at 3 am in a London hotel.