small delights

January always creaks in, with routines groaning back to life and a keyboard clicking back into command. Nothing is wrong, exactly—it just takes a minute to remember how to move at a normal tempo again. What I’ve noticed though is that my desire for holiday excess hasn’t gone anywhere. The problem is that January doesn’t really have anywhere to put it. Going big right now feels a wee bit unhinged, like, say, wearing sequins to the DMV. My solution: Downsize decadence. Re-route it.

So I’m buying the velvet-y body lotion that smells like a spa in Big Sur. I am saying yes to the artisanal tea (facilitated by this, the best self-gift that keeps on giving), and the esoteric moisturizing serum that promises radiance and suggests newfound discipline. When the big, symbolic luxuries feel either crazy excessive or untimely—or simply too loud for the moment—I don’t stop wanting beauty or indulgence or convenience. I just look for it in places that feel more accessible, more utilitarian, more justifiable. It becomes edible. It becomes topical. It becomes washable. It fits neatly into a Tuesday. This is why Taylor Swift’s sourdough bread currently hails as Vogue’s hottest accessory of the year—alongside La Ligne’s best-selling pull-on pants, Dorsey’s petite pear-cut lab grown diamond earrings, and Quince’s under-$100 cashmere.

There’s something deeply comforting about this shift. A designer bag asks a lot of you. It wants commitment. It wants you to believe in a future version of yourself who deserves it. A freshly-harvested olive oil, on the other hand, just wants a piece of lettuce. A really good lip balm wants my winter-chapped, slightly skeptical pout right now.

I think this is about control, too. After weeks of, well, a lot—financial, cultural, political, social, emotional, familial, you name it—there’s relief in choosing something small and contained. Affordable escapism. A healthy feel-good thing that doesn’t spiral. I can enjoy it fully, finish it, and feel vaguely responsible.

And maybe it’s about self-expression. Not the kind that announces itself across a room, but the kind that lives in my fridge, my bathroom cabinet, or even around my waist (three times over below), in my ears or on my neck (above). The thrill of knowing I have the good chocolate hidden behind the almond butter. The confidence of using a cleanser that feels slightly aspirational. The relief of simply throwing on a cardigan (Heidi Merrick, above, Kule, below) and appearing “dressed.”

I don’t think this time is about deprivation. It’s about recalibration. After the holidays, we’re all trying to remember how to be normal again without being miserable. So we negotiate. We say: I won’t do that, but I’ll do this. And this and this and this! I’ll skip the grand gesture and opt for the small delight. I’ll trade spectacle for satisfaction. And smile my way through this extra long month. I hope you join me!

.