The best things we brought back
10 Substackers share their souvenir stories—from lucky sea beans to merch to mark a milestone
Early last year, I wrote about The Art of the Travel Souvenir—how the best keepsakes aren’t necessarily the most expensive or exotic, but the ones that are transportive; capable of bottling a feeling, a moment, or a version of ourselves we met in a new place in the world. I’ve always been deeply curious about the things that travelers hold onto and why. What kind of items earn permanent spots on shelves or gallery walls, get tucked into suitcases or scrapbooks, or simply stick around long enough to earn meaning?
I deeply appreciate having something tangible to transport me straight back to a time and place, a moment, a memory. These things can be as small as a pad of stationary from a hotel I finally got to stay at after having it on my vision board for years. Or a hand-drawn postcard from a tiny, family-run shop in Kyoto’s Gion district. Or an ink pen used to sign the check at the romantic restaurant from my wedding dinner.
To find out, I asked a few friends and fellow travelers to share their souvenir stories. Some are deeply personal, others purely practical. Some weren’t purchased, but given. Some were found on purpose; others felt like fate. Together, they tell a story of movement, memory, and what’s worth bringing home.
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Merch for a milestone: I picked up this little onesie when I was just five weeks pregnant and very nauseous on my last trip to LA. I love Sunset Tower + it feels like my LA home base, so it felt exciting to think about bringing my baby there with me one day. And until then: merch!
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Seatmate serendipity: On my flight to the US for the first time years ago, I sat next to a woman whom I can remember almost nothing about now. I know she was blonde, that she was kind, and that we got to chatting about our lives and plans for the future. I was about to start my freshman year of college and was so nervous you can't even imagine. She was wearing this braided bracelet with the word ACCEPTANCE engraved into a small golden circle attached to it. Right before she got off, she gave it to me, along with her number on a piece of paper, which I immediately lost. That was eight years ago now, and I’ve taken that bracelet off maybe five times since. I wouldn’t recognize her if I saw her today; I’m not even sure if she’d remember. But I went on to have a wonderful time in Portland, and I like to think of that now ratty bracelet as my first American souvenir. The charm worked. I was accepted.
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An archive of good times: Matchbooks, postcards, and hotel stationery are my go-to souvenirs—tiny, packable, and instantly nostalgic. They hint at where you’ve been and, depending on the wear and tear, how long you’ve loved them. They also make the best conversation starters when scattered around the house.
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A cut-and-paste kind of keepsake: I collect and bring home things to put in my scrapbook journal—from bar coasters and train tickets to dinner receipts and matchbooks. I swipe every little memento that I can when traveling, and then I come home and put it all together in a place where I can revisit each memory later down the road. It's also a fun gratitude exercise to sit down with a fun beverage and put this together after returning from a fun trip—it evokes memories I might've forgotten otherwise!
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A talisman for travel days: I found a sea bean on a long beach walk on Eleuthera with my friend Morgan. I almost left it in the sand, but she told me that sea beans wash ashore in the Bahamas from as far away as Brazil, drifting thousands of miles over months or even years before landing somewhere. They’re rare to find and considered good luck, so I kept it. There’s something endearing about a tiny bean making such a massive journey, and now I never travel without it. I know it’s a bit ridiculous to cart a bean around the world, but I find it grounding. On a stressful travel day, it transports me back to that happy memory. And hey—it’s good luck!
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A roadside relic: Heading to the port in Paros in our beater of a rental car, I spotted a roadside antique store with marble sinks, huge vases, and old doors outside of it. Despite running late, we pulled over because I'm a sucker for a shop full of old treasures. Among all the found objects was the perfect olive jar, priced just right at <60 euros. I asked the shop owner if there was any chance he could ship, but he clearly could not be bothered.
Instead, we wrapped it up in a bunch of newspaper and stuffed it between clothing in my trusty expandable Longchamp bag. With more than a week of our trip left, we hand-carried it home from Paros to Santorini to Athens to DC to Denver. It's the best kind of travel souvenir—a beautiful secondhand object with a story to tell. And it serves as a home for my seasonally foraged branches!
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A souvenir to savor: A couple months ago when I was in Europe, I decided to stop over in London (one of my favorite places in the world) where I studied abroad during college. I walked around my old neighborhood and found myself just as enchanted with Ottolenghi's cafe as I was years ago. Instead of buying a dumb trinket to take home, I decided my souvenir would be granola because a) top 5 foods ever and b) what a fun little treat to have in my pantry to mitigate the post-vacation blues.
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Serveware with a story: While I’m not typically one for souvenirs, the pieces that mean the most to me are the ones that I can bring home to subtly elevate the everyday. A favorite: the set of mismatched, handmade ceramic plates I found in Fez during a 2019 trip across Morocco. Funny thing is, despite being meticulously wrapped, they all shattered en route to Casablanca—but after discovering this with the hotel team on our checkout, the Four Seasons Casablanca team generously drove several hours back to Fez, had them remade (luckily I had a photo they could recreate from!), and shipped a newly created set to my apartment in New York. When I host friends for West Village Book Club and serve with them today, I think about all the wonderful people who were a part of getting them to my table.
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Memories, mounted: My favorite souvenirs are small prints, paintings, and/or postcards that don't require much space in my carry-on and I can easily frame when I get home. I've recently started curating a mini gallery wall in our guest bathroom, and it brings me so much joy! Each piece has some special significance: (top) a souvenir my husband brought home from a conference in Rome, (left center) a hand-drawn postcard from the DC neighborhood where we used to live, (right center) a print of the building in New Orleans where we got married, and (bottom) a small watercolor painting I bought on the street in Florence when I studied abroad over a decade ago.
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Ducks and delayed generosity: I bought a collection of small ceramic ducks in Tucson, Arizona, intending to give one to each of my nearest and dearest. After "temporarily storing" them on my bookshelf, however, I fell in love and decided to keep them. A tale as old as time. Maybe one day I'll find the generosity to give them away, but for now, they'll remind me of the wonderful trip to Tucson with my mom.
Tori Simokov is a Travel Writer and Graphic Designer/Strategist based in New York. To get in touch, email tori@v1projects.com. Want more? Check out Instagram, TikTok, or shop her curated favorites.
Loved reading everyone else’s! Thanks for the feature Tori 💗
My philosophy on travel souvenirs is definitely evolving - I used to gravitate towards buying myself jewelry from local shops/brands, but on a recent trip to Peru I stumbled into a local bookstore and ended up buying a beautiful cookbook by a local + world renowned chef. We were dining at his restaurant that same night, so I brought the book with me and got very lucky - Chef was there and he signed the book for me! It's one of my most prized possessions now.