Ghannouj Recommends: The Beach Packing List You Never Knew You Needed

Filed from somewhere between Duty Free and a melting pistachio gelato

Every year, as July slides into August with the subtlety of a sweaty thigh on faux leather, I feel the pull. Not the call of the sea — that comes later. First, it’s the siren song of a spreadsheet titled: Packing List – Chic Not Tragic (BEACH).

This month, we offer you the definitive beach edit. Because yes, you could just throw a bikini and SPF into a tote bag and call it day. But why would you, when you could become a curated silhouette — part linen goddess, part urban stray, part Nahoul from Zeina w Nahoul, lost in a heatwave?

Here’s what I’m packing:

Sunglasses: The Nahoul Effect

Let’s get one thing straight: these are not sunglasses. These are identity.
I’m talking about Tom Ford Kaya shades — the kind of eyewear that could hide a state secret or a very mild hangover. They channel the energy of Nahoul from Zeina w Nahoul, that iconic 1980s cartoon about two bumblebee best friends who wander through floral meadows dispensing unsolicited wisdom. My goal? To look like Nahoul if he’d grown up, moved to Ibiza, and now charges €350 for spiritual realignment via lemon balm mist.

Hat: A Shadow-Maker

My rule of thumb: if your hat doesn’t enter the room before you do, it’s not a real hat. The one I’m bringing has the circumference of a small satellite dish and doubles as a sunshade for unsuspecting strangers. It also adds an air of mystery — or menace — depending on your angles. 

I found it on Amazon, which tells you everything and nothing at once. It arrived in a bag the size of a quesadilla and popped open like a Victorian fan fight. It is absurdly wide — a full solar eclipse. It covers my face, shoulders, and any desire to make small talk. I love it deeply.

If someone near you can still see sunlight, your hat is too small.

Clothes: COS, or How to Dress Like You’re in a Scandi Existential Crisis

I could pack a sarong. I could pack cut-offs. But I won't — because I found these COS pieces and now insist on dressing like a woman who vacations alone and writes fiction about women who vacation alone.

• Top: A caramel linen camisole — structured like good therapy, breezy like better gossip.

• Trousers: Crisp ivory cotton, cropped with intention. The kind of trousers that whisper “I know how to pare an artichoke.”

Together, they give the illusion of calm, even if I’m internally spiraling over how many bathing suits is too many.

Shoes: I Contain Multitudes

Yes, it’s a beach holiday. Yes, I will be packing my Havaianas, the official slipper of the Global South and every hostel bathroom from Saigon to São Paulo.

But let me be clear: I will also bring my On Running trainers. Because sometimes, after three hours of lying perfectly still, I am seized by the inexplicable urge to walk 12,000 steps to find the best pistachio gelato in town. These are for the airport, the old town, and the hill I swear I’m not going to climb until I’m halfway up it.

Soundtrack: Sea, Salt & Sunburn

The playlist is called Sea, Salt & Sunburn, and it is exactly that. A little salsa, a little Bachata, and a lot of sunshine-soaked Mediterranean breeze. It’s meant to be played out of a JBL Clip 5 — a waterproof speaker that doesn’t judge your life choices, even when you queue up Fairuz and Bad Bunny back-to-back.

Whether you’re floating on a lilo or furiously chopping herbs for yet another tomato salad, this is the playlist that will make your life feel like a slow-motion sunscreen ad.

Skincare: Glass Skin or Death

And now, we enter the glow zone.

This month, skincare comes courtesy of Dr. Lamah Bourji — dermatologist, glow guru, and incidentally, my sister-in-law. She is a woman of grace, clarity, and a 14-step regimen. I’m joking — she’s actually frighteningly minimalist.  I keep promising to follow but never do.

If I committed, I would be her walking business card — glass-skinned, light-reflective, and possibly illegal in some lighting. Korean influencers would DM me for tips.

Instead, I text her blurry photos of my flaky nose and caption them: “SOS.”

Her proper beach skincare edit for the summer is simple, effective, and suspiciously absent of unicorn tears or 12-step exfoliation ceremonies.  But rest assured: she will not let me near a watermelon, let alone the sun, without SPF, antioxidants, and a firm scolding about UVA damage.

Here’s what Dr. Lamah recommends for a face that thrives in 40-degree heat and existential humidity:

• Hydrinity Prelude — A cleanser so gentle it feels like an apology for your past decisions.

• Hydrinity Hydri-C — Vitamin C, but make it grown-up and actually effective.

• Medi Derma Hylanses MD — Moisturiser that says “I respect the barrier.”

• Frezyderm Sea Side — A body sunscreen for people who remember their elbows.

• PCA Sheer Tint Broad Spectrum SPF 45 — The face sunscreen that multitasks harder than I do.

• Fade Gel 6 MAD — A cocktail of acids for night-time regrets and morning redemption.

• Bakuchiol Cream — Retinol’s cooler, less irritating cousin — kind of like Lamah.

• Pearly Caps — Pills with tranexamic acid and glutathione, because skincare is now also an internal affair.

Wherever you’re going — the Greek isles, a Lebanese village, or the same five square feet of sand as last year — pack boldly. Dress like a Bond villain in soft neutrals. And never forget: your sunglasses should enter the room before you do.

Bon voyage,
Ghena