This week’s Sunday Edit is a little different and a little more personal. I turned 35 on Friday, and I’ve been celebrating and being spoiled all weekend long. In the last month or so, I’ve been reflecting on 35—an age I’ve been thinking about for 20 years, ever since a high school freshman English teacher gave us a writing assignment inviting us to imagine our lives in five, ten, fifteen, twenty years.

I remember writing about how I’d live in a big house with a husband and three children, how I’d be an active member of my parish, and how I’d be entirely focused on keeping house and caring for my family.

If fifteen-year-old Emily could see me now, she’d be shocked, and probably a little confused. But at 35, I know who I am more than ever before. While homemaking is still my absolute favorite thing to do, I have deconstructed from Catholicism, I’m living in a completely different city, about to move into a gorgeous flat, and I fell in love with and married my high school sweetheart, who happens to be a woman.

My life looks nothing like I thought it would, and yet I cannot imagine it being more beautiful or fulfilling (…although a baby or two down the line would only add to the good). But I’ve learned not to compare my day-to-day life to what I dreamed up at 15, or to any of the highlight reels I come across on social media day after day. Instead, I’ve learned to acknowledge my journey as my own, and no one else’s. I may not have everything I’ve ever wanted yet, but I have learned so much in 35 years that I know will carry me through the next thirty-five, and beyond. In today’s Sunday Edit, I’m sharing the most important lessons with you.

The Most Important Things I’ve Learned in 35 Years

On Knowing Your Worth and Occupying Space

• A woman who knows her worth is the patriarchy’s worst nightmare. Be that woman.

• What other people think of you is none of your business, and you don’t owe anyone an explanation for who you are.

• Humility is a tax women are socialized to pay that men never even consider. It’s okay to drop it and own your confidence.

On Time and Urgency

• This is it—your one wild and precious life. Answer the call, make the trip, take the chance, and stop saving your best things for a special occasion that is happening right now.

• Aging isn’t a decline; it’s a privilege and a rebellion against the alternative.

On Boundaries and Grace

• Friendships shouldn’t feel daunting, and some people simply don’t deserve to know you. Cutting them off is an act of preservation, not cruelty.

• Hold on tightly and let go lightly. Keep what serves you close, learn from what breaks, and let the rest go easily.

On Intentional Living

• Buy the best the first time, wear the real outfit, and stop apologizing unless you really mean it.

• Listen to your gut. If something feels wrong in your bones, it is—no matter how much you try to talk yourself out of it.

These lessons didn’t come easily, but they are the ones I’m carrying forward into this next chapter like old friends.

And would a Sunday Edit be complete without a list of the things that I’m loving? Instead of my usual weekly roundup of what I’m wearing, reading, and doing, I decided to share something a little more indulgent. Since it was my birthday weekend, I spent the last few days thoroughly leaning into my own philosophy—stopping the wait, buying the best the first time, and treating myself to a few long-overdue goodies. Here is a peek at what I’ve spoiled myself with to ring in thirty-five.

Birthday Gifts to Myself

• Space to Play: I secured a spot in my favorite local mahjong parlor’s fall league. Nothing says indulgence like carving out a weekly ritual for fun, focus, and making new friends over the tiles.

• Favorite Pajamas: I treated myself to a couple of fresh sets of my go-to pajamas. I’ve been buying this style for years, and they are unmatched for comfort through every season.

• Some Skincare Additions: I’ve added a few new additions to my routine. I’ve trusted this brand for years and lean heavily on their Beauty Elixir and Vinoperfect serum, but I’ve recently added their night cream and eye cream to the rotation and am loving them just as much.

• Mariage Frères Teas: Restocking my loose-leaf collection. There is so much joy in the daily ritual of brewing a fresh pot, and their Earl Grey French Blue and Pleine Lune blends are absolute perfection.

• A New Journal: My current Moleskin is nearly full, so a new one was mandatory to capture the thoughts, notes, and moments of this next trip around the sun.

• A Touch of Autumn: As someone with a birthday at the end of the summer, I like to treat myself to one of my favorite fall candles to burn once the temperatures start to drop. Okay…maybe more than one.

I’m sure some people would find the idea of buying themselves birthday gifts to be too much, but I love being too much. Whether it’s a fresh journal for new thoughts, a weekly game of mahjong, or simply lighting the good candles on a random Sunday, these little luxuries are all about treating ourselves like we actually matter.

And while I will never be able to adequately describe the gratitude I have for the loving and supportive people in my life, I am also endlessly grateful to every past version of myself that has gotten me to where I am today. Without her determination and ability to keep carrying on through all the difficult times, I wouldn’t be the truest, most authentic version of myself sitting here writing this today. I have such an amazing feeling about this next year of life.

So, here’s to thirty-five— and to all the lessons the previous versions of myself have learned—to outgrowing the rooms we used to squeeze ourselves into, to leaving the people that didn’t deserve us behind, to loving the life we actually built instead of the one we sketched at fifteen, and to realizing that life is the special occasion. Thank you for celebrating right along with me, friends. Here’s to the next chapter.

Until next time,

Em

xx

Happy Sunday and happy Virgo season!

Lately, I’ve been thinking a lot about astrology—specifically how hard I worked to avoid it for most of my life because it was, quite simply, against the rules. Growing up immersed in my father’s disastrously devout Catholic family left me with a constellation of things I’m still gently unlearning and deconstructing. But the one that makes me laugh the hardest now is the sheer, breathless terror I used to feel toward the stars.

I was anxious around discussions of celestial movements. I would physically cringe when classmates mentioned full moons, strictly skirt past the back pages of magazines where the horoscopes lived, and pray extra hard for a friend who confessed she practiced yoga, convinced it was a gateway to the demonic. Looking back, the conditioning was so deeply ingrained it makes my stomach turn.

TO SHOP THE EDIT: I’m officially beginning to to layer cotton sweaters over my linen tops and dresses and this J. Crew reversible roll neck cardigan is like having two sweaters in one! My favorite J. Crew linen button downs are seeing me through the end of summer along with my favorite J. Crew slim wide jeans. These camel colored sandals from Amazon are my go to footwear until flats and boots become necessary. I have a vintage coach bucket bag that looks just like this Thursday Boot Company bucket bag and I think this shape and color are so perfect for this time of year. Still plenty of room to carry all the summer-to-fall essentials, and the warmth of the camel brown starts giving the perfect fall vibes. I’ve had this Ralph Lauren belt for years and I love it. I’ve always been a matching accessories kind of girl! My jumbo Spode Blue Italian mug is my go to for my morning cup of tea and I’m starting to sip some spicier blends now that the mornings are cooling off so much.

This post contains affiliate links; I may earn a small commission if you choose to shop through them (at no additional cost to you!).

Eventually, though, I started quietly carving out my own path. I remember devouring Harry Potter under the covers at my grandparents’ house (after watching my grandfather shatter a DVD of Jim Carrey’s The Mask in his bare hand, I thought it better not to test the limits of magical literature). From there, I found my way to yoga on YouTube, discovering that the simple alignment of breath and movement was a grounding antidote to my over-packed teenage schedule.

And somewhere along the way, curiosity won out. I remember my college roommate, Rachel, being the very first friend to gently impress upon me just what a textbook Virgo I am. Even so, it wasn’t until I turned thirty that I really started following planetary alignments, tracking the moon cycles, and realizing what a remarkably effective tool it all could be. I’ve grown to genuinely love knowing what is happening in the sky, finding a quiet joy in finally embracing my witchy side. Astrology stopped feeling like forbidden territory and started feeling like a language for understanding myself. To be clear, I don’t use it as a script to perform. It’s simpler than that: I am not the way I am because I tried to fit a sign; I am who I am because of what the sky looked like the day I was born.

Take my big three, for instance. I’m a Virgo sun, an Aries moon, and a Libra rising. The short version of what that combination looks like? My Virgo sun wants every detail of the house meticulously organized and running smoothly, my Aries moon is secretly ready to tear through a project with a burst of fiery impatience at any given second, and my Libra rising is just trying to keep the peace and make sure everything looks aesthetic while we do it. It is a very specific kind of internal chaos.

Long before I knew what a “big three” even was, let alone what those placements meant, I was living out that exact dynamic every single day. Learning the terms didn’t change who I was; it just gave me a language—and a good bit of grace—for understanding why I’m wired the way I am.

Naturally, Virgo season invites a very specific kind of internet chatter—the relentless push to optimize, overhaul, and chase a rigid, impossible perfection (something I’ve discussed my disdain for in a previous Sunday Edit). Instead, I’m letting Virgo season inspire a softer, more practical kind of reset. It’s just about looking at my routines with a kinder eye, clearing out the summer clutter that has drifted into the corners of the house, and freshening up my space until it feels light enough to breathe in again. A little realignment, a little breathing room, and nothing more.

Outside of realigning the routine, here is a quick look at what I’ve been loving lately.

Reading

I’ve been flipping through old September issues of Vogue while I wait for this years copy to arrive. I tend to wear what I want regardless of if it’s “on trend” but I do enjoy reading about what the biggest names in fashion are wearing. After all, I’m just a girl! I’m between books right now—a rare and slightly disorienting place to find myself—but I have a book club meetup tomorrow, so I’m waiting to dive into my next read until after that wraps up. Matt Haig’s The Midnight Train is cued up and ready to go in my Kindle, and I’m genuinely excited to dive in. I have a different bookclub discussion for it on Thursday, and I’ll be sure to share how I liked it in next week’s Sunday Edit. Stay tuned!

Watching

I’ve been on a major Old Hollywood kick recently, rewatching a rotation of summer-themed favorites, including Rear Window, The Seven Year Itch, Pillow Talk, The Long, Hot Summer, and the original Parent Trap.

Wearing

Here in Chicago, the days are starting to cool down with chillier mornings and evenings once the sun drops lower in the sky, so summer-to-fall transitional dressing is officially in full swing! I’ve started leaving the house with a cotton sweater thrown over my linen shirt and jeans or sundresses, draping it over my shoulders when the afternoon warms up and layering it back on as the sun sets on my way home. I’m loving mixing warmer autumnal hues (deep olive greens, burgundy and cognac) with creamy white jeans and summer blues. I may or may not be drafting a guide to transitional dressing—you’ll just have to check back and see!

At Home & Elsewhere

I’m currently savoring all the incredible seasonal produce I can before the outdoor farmers’ markets close up shop until next year. I’ve been working figs, tomatoes, cherries, and summer squash into every meal I can, having so much fun flipping through my cookbook collection for inspiration and drumming up a few original recipes of my own. I’m also starting to transition my closet for the season pulling summer pieces that have run their course and cannot be repaired any further, packing up the items I know I won’t wear until next year, and deciding if anything needs to be donated. I love a chance to tidy and reset my wardrobe, and the change of season always feels like the perfect opportunity.

As we settle into Virgo season and the end of summer, I’d love to hear from you. Have you felt that subtle change in the air yet? What—if anything—have you felt inspired to tidy, shift, or routinize as we step into this new season?

Let me know in the comments! I always love hearing what’s on your mind.

Wishing you a calm, beautifully imperfect Sunday, friends.

Until next time,

Em

xx

TO SHOP THE EDIT: This jumbo Spode cup and saucer is my favorite to make my morning tea in. A very strong cup of early grey with honey and lemon tastes better in this than any other mug in my kitchen. I’ve used this Caudalie Beauty Elixer for years and always appreciate the refreshing fragrance. I love to light a candle in the mornings, and this Nest Amalfi lemon and Mint is my favorite in the warmer months. My Five Minute Journal is my favorite way to start and end my day, grounded in gratitude. These pajamas from J. Crew are my favorite and are comfortable all year round. My Ellie Nap Dresses from Hill House Home are my favorite pieces to wear when it’s hot out, so I’m enjoying them for as long as I can before the weather changes and they get packed up again till next summer.

This post contains affiliate links; I may earn a small commission if you choose to shop through them (at no additional cost to you!).

The Quiet Rebellion of the Everyday Ritual

I have never been one to embrace things I’m bad at—I just avoid them. I lack any sort of athletic ability, so I’ve always avoided sports. I’ve always struggled with dyscalculia, so math was my least favorite subject in school. But for the longest time, I foolishly tried to force myself through the one thing I felt uniquely terrible at: traditional, silent, mind-emptying meditation.

I’ve tried, over and over, to become the kind of woman who meditates. The kind of woman who can find a comfortable position, close her eyes, and clear her mind entirely, welcoming in alignment, divine intervention, whatever it is those women are clearing their minds to make room for.

But I’ve never been able to do it.

I can easily make my way through guided visual meditations—the ones where a calm and soothing voice walks you through closing your eyes and picturing every intricate detail of some peaceful scene. The kind of meditations where you’re envisioning yourself floating in a calm and still sea, walking through a lavender field, or sitting upright in a clearing in a dense forest, surrounded by woodland creatures who represent one thing or another.

But getting my mind to be blank and thoughtless? Not for me.

And this used to bother me. For months at a time, I’d try to start my days by sipping a perfect cup of tea, lighting candles, and journaling in a stream of consciousness for ten or twenty minutes—however long I needed to until it felt like my mind was empty. I’d find a comfortable position, make sure it wasn’t too hot or cold in the room, grab a blanket if necessary, and work to clear my mind. I’d do this every morning for months and months until I realized it wasn’t working.

Thinking perhaps the time of day simply wasn’t serving me, I’d try the entire routine in the evening, again for months and months, to no avail.

I’d feel that I was somehow deficient. That there was something fundamentally broken about the fact that I couldn’t clear my mind. That I couldn’t sink into the kind of meditative state millions of people have claimed to reach.

Redefining the Practice

What we often miss—and what I had to learn the hard way—is that the core point of meditation isn’t actually to become a blank slate. Trying to force absolute stillness on a brain designed to think usually creates more frustration than peace.

The true mechanics are much simpler: anchoring your awareness in the present moment while engaging with whatever you are doing.

For some, that happens in silence, seated on a cushion. But for me, traditional stillness is a mismatch. Instead, my meditation happens in moments of action:

• The sensorial experience of making a cup of tea in the morning: hearing the kettle sing as it reaches a boil, the fragrance of the tea leaves floating up to me from the tin, and the way the honey and lemon release their softly sweet and bright, citrusy scents.

• The grounding task of my morning skin-care routine: washing with warm water, patting my face and neck dry with a soft organic cotton cloth, and applying various toners, serums, and creams, their botanical scents awakening and centering me.

• The flow of repetitive tasks: like folding warm, clean laundry fresh from the dryer or chopping ingredients for dinner, with rhythmic, physical movements quieting frantic, racing thoughts and allowing me to slip into a state of relaxed focus.

• Enjoying a silent walk: free of music or podcasts streaming into my ears, letting my environment and the movement of my body anchor me in the now while making room for creative ideas I’ll elaborate on later.

These are my reminders that mindfulness is simply paying attention to sensory reality on purpose.

Finding the Reset

These are moments that happen every day, multiple times a day. These perfect little romantic rituals are when I finally find divine inspiration creeping in.

They’re the moments where I reach some sort of meditative state—one of peace and calm, where my nervous system gets a moment to catch up and reset.

You don’t need to force yourself into a rigid, quiet box to find your peace. Sometimes, the deepest stillness is found right in the middle of your daily life. So this Sunday, I’m sharing the things that I’m reading, watching, wearing, and doing at home and elsewhere to keep myself grounded and present.

Currently...

• Reading: I’m currently reading The Calamity Club by Kathryn Stockett for a Chicago book club I’m attending at the end of the month. I’ve jumped on the immersive reading trend that all of BookTok has been chatting about. The idea of listening to the audiobook version of the novel as I read along made me wonder if I’d feel like I was back in school, so to spruce up the experience and set the mood, I’ve been sipping themed drinks (sun tea with a bit of bourbon) and snacking on boiled peanuts and tomato sandwiches to really get into the spirit of Mississippi in the 1930s. I’m about halfway through and loving the book so far! Engaging so many senses while devouring this book has been the most lovely way to unwind in the evenings and prepare my body for rest.

• Watching: I’ve been trying to limit my screen time this summer as a way to give my eyes and mind a break, so when I am watching something, it’s either a film my wife and I are seeing together (we watched a re-release of the original Practical Magic in theaters last week, and I cannot wait for the second film to be released!) or something we’re watching at home. We recently re-watched A League of Their Own before taking a day trip to Springfield, Illinois, to attend a Women’s Professional Baseball League game, and we had so much fun! I’m excited to watch the league expand in the coming seasons.

• Wearing: Lately, I’ve been making an effort to wear all my favorite summer pieces that I know will have to go into storage soon. The linen dresses, the cotton sets—soon they’ll all be entirely inappropriate for the cooler temperatures, so I’m enjoying them as much as I can before summer is officially over. In the evenings, I’m relishing the new pajama sets I recently treated myself to (these have been my favorite for years and years, and I’ve owned them in nearly every color). There’s something really lovely about going through my evening wind-down routine, applying my skincare, and settling into bed with my book in a fresh set of pajamas.

• At Home and Elsewhere: At home, I’ve found myself restructuring some of my usual routines and daily rituals. My wife is a teacher and is heading back to school soon, so this is the time of year when we both prepare for a shift in our days and a return to the structure the school year brings with it. I’ve slowly been making my way through our space, getting rid of clutter and items that no longer serve us, and in addition to creating space, it’s given me some great moments of reflection and made me grateful for all we have.

At the end of the day, building a life that feels good isn’t about mastering the art of sitting still—it’s about noticing the quiet magic already happening in the margins of your routine. It’s about letting the steam from your morning tea or the steady rhythm of your steps remind you that you are already here, right where you need to be.

I hope this Sunday Edit inspires you to find the moments in your day where you feel grounded, present, and inspired, whether its silently in a seated position, or making your morning cup of coffee.

Until next time,

Em

xx

I’ve noticed a disturbing trend in recent years: before mid-July hits, school supplies practically smack you in the face when you walk into any store. Halloween decor and costumes start making their way onto drugstore shelves while tomatoes and cucumbers are just starting to show up at the farmers market.

Last night at dinner with friends, we were talking about how when we were much younger, summer vacation seemed to stretch endlessly from Memorial Day to Labor Day—and none of us could quite figure out when or why that changed.

The first of August arrives, and suddenly all anyone can talk about is how they “can’t believe summer is over,” despite the fact that Labor Day, the unofficial end of summer, is still a month away, and the autumnal equinox, the honest-to-goodness start of fall, doesn’t show up on our calendars until the last week of September.

It is so strange that summer, arguably our most anticipated season, is also the one we’re in the biggest hurry to push aside.

TO SHOP THE EDIT: Ellie Nap Dress from Hill House Home (they have so many fun colors and patterns). My favorite Nest lemon and mint candle. J. Crew linen Shirt (you’ll want every color, just watch). J. Crew slim wide full length jeans (I have these in fours different washes, they’re so great). Amazon sandal (I rarely buy vegan leather but these are made so well)! Target sun hat (this is the least expensive straw hat I’ve ever bought and somehow the most well made). Ice cream included for inspiration—go get some before it’s too cold outside!

This post contains affiliate links; I may earn a small commission if you choose to shop through them (at no additional cost to you!).

Near the start of summer, I wrote about my intention to slow down and savor the simplicity of the season. And while I acknowledge that the whole world seems to have declared “back to school” as a time to get back to structure and routines, no matter how old you are, I, personally, plan to soak up every moment of sun-drenched stillness I can before temperatures drop and autumn actually arrives. Here is everything I’m wearing, reading, watching, and doing—both at home and elsewhere—to soak up every last bit of it.

I have been taking every opportunity to read this summer, and the books I’ve consumed have really run the gamut! I’ve read everything from slightly smutty to biographical, TikTok recs to classic mysteries; it’s been a very book-heavy summer for yours truly. If you’re looking for a book to enjoy before the end of summer, I’d highly recommend one of these:

• Be Ready When the Luck Happens by Ina Garten. The Barefoot Contessa (not a name, I’ve come to learn, she chose, but one that fits her so perfectly) put out one of the best kinds of biographies: informative, easy to read, entertaining, and full of heart. Ina told her story in a way that I think will resonate with anyone who is still figuring out what they want to be when they grow up.

• Mean Moms by Emma Rosenblum. I grabbed this out of a Little Library when we were visiting family in North Carolina back in June, and I wasn’t sure what I had gotten myself into by the time I finished the first few chapters, but I was hooked. The plot centers around a group of affluent New York moms and had a few twists that I did not see coming. Quick and entertaining, this is a great beach read that will make you grateful for your group of, hopefully less troubled, friends.

• The Kennedys and the Windsors: The Story of Two Dynasties, One Born, One Made by Caroline Hallemann. As a lifelong lover of the Kennedys and the British Royal Family (not to mention Caroline Hallemann’s work at Town & Country), I was so eager to get this book into my hot little hands as soon as it was released, and, unsurprisingly, it did not disappoint! This thoughtfully researched book wasn’t just another list of historically significant scandals and accomplishments, but an engaging look at each family through both a historical and pop culture lens that is a must-read for anyone with even the slightest interest in or appreciation for two of the most significant families of the twentieth and twenty-first centuries.

My wife and I have been enjoying a retro series being put on by one of the movie theaters in our area. This summer we’ve seen Back to the Future, Erin Brockovich, Matilda, and Jurassic Park—highly recommend finding a theater near you that shows old movies you grew up with—there’s something so special about seeing them on the big screen!

We’ve also enjoyed some new releases. The Odyssey was, unsurprisingly, brilliant, and I was pleasantly surprised by the newest Spider-Man movie, too! Though it did inspire my wife to try and explain the entire X-Men universe to me, which I just wasn’t ready for (and now I see a super mutant movie marathon in my future—are there X-Men themed drinking games??).

We’ve also been re-watching Scandal, and I can officially report all the metaphorical and actual bludgeoning and dramatics are just as stress-inducing the second time around. Nothing a little palate cleanser of Gilmore Girls or Downton Abbey can’t fix.

I’ve had my summer uniform down to a sartorial science since my mid-twenties, and I don’t think it will ever change. When the temps are consistently above sixty degrees, you’ll usually find me wearing one of a few outfit combinations:

Nap Dresses from Hill House Home: I have followed this brand since its debut, and I have collected a dozen or so of their signature garments in different styles and patterns. The Ellie is my favorite design, and the style of Nap Dress I don most on the hottest of days. Every style of Nap Dress is so easy to throw on all by themselves or layer with other pieces as temperatures start to drop. Each item from Hill House is an investment, but one well worth making. I know I will wear all my Hill House pieces for years and years.

Linen, linen, linen: I tend to buy my linen pieces from J.Crew (I’ve worn their Baird McNutt Irish linen button-downs and their linen pants for years), but I also heard great things about the Quince linen pants and shirts from a friend, so I scooped some of those up at the start of the summer and have found that they’re great for the price point they’re sold at.

Gauzey Cotton pieces: There is something so nice about a fabric that can be rolled or folded and tossed into a weekender bag for a quick getaway in the summer, and that’s where I find cotton gauze to be the best kind of workhorse. I ordered lots of pieces last spring and kept several that have been so nice to have this summer, with pieces from Pact and Gap, making the cut. I have a few cotton gauze dresses, pants, and shirts that I love to incorporate into beach and pool day styling, travel day outfits, or even a day of sightseeing. The organic, crinkly nature of the material means there’s no need to worry about wrinkles, and it’s always comfortable and breezy, perfect for any summer destination. My cotton gauze pieces will keep me cool through the last blazing days of summer, and they’ll make great transitional pieces as cooler temperatures start to creep in.

Speaking of transitional dressing, August and September are my favorite months to start incorporating white denim—fashion faux pas be damned! I love a white jean after Labor Day, and I think J.Crew and Madewell do white wash denim the best. I staunchly avoid jeans most of the summer, but as temperatures begin to drop toward the end of the season, I love a crisp white or ecru jean with a cotton sweater or one of my favorite oversized button-downs, a pair of sandals, and a basket bag. Peak summer-to-fall dressing if you ask me.

When it comes to late summer footwear, I tend to steer clear of closed-toe shoes for as long as possible. I’ve mentioned my affinity for my Margaux sandals—such a chic option—but I also love a slide sandal, and these have been my favorite for three summers. They’re lightweight and feel very secure despite having no ankle strap, and they’re so comfortable to walk in. They aren’t real leather, but they can stand a beating on city sidewalks, and that’s a huge selling point to me. Plus, they’re so inexpensive! I have them in three colors, and after three summers of wear, I haven’t had to retire a single pair. I also caved and purchased my first pair of Crocs (never a brand I saw myself wearing) when a friend recommended them as a perfect replacement for flip-flops. I was shocked at how comfortable they are! They’ve been great for days at the pool and the beach, and for walking miles and miles. They are not the prettiest shoe, but they’ve been very practical.

I’m also loving this sun hat I got from Target, of all places. I have purchased dozens of sun hats in my life, most of which I’ve paid entirely too much money for, and this Target find is probably the best I’ve ever owned. It’s under $15 and truly seems indestructible. I have thrown it in every tote bag, folded it to fit in smaller handbags, tossed it in the backseat beneath groceries and boat totes, smashed it in my suitcase, worn it in the ocean, pool and lake, and even through all that, it has kept its shape. I don’t know what sort of witchcraft this thing was made with, but I own it in two colors and will be wearing them both well into September. Highly recommend if you’re in the market for a good wide-brim straw hat that can take a beating and still look chic as hell (while protecting your skin, of course).

And speaking of skin protection, do I even need to say it? Don’t we all know better by now? I suppose I’ll mention it for continuity purposes, but I’m obviously wearing sunscreen every day. I am not really a makeup-in-the-summer kind of girl, so reapplying is easy—because you have to reapply, friends—but even on the days I do wear makeup, I’m still sure to touch up my SPF with my favorite brush-on powder sunscreen. I keep one in every bag and hit my face, neck, and décolletage. Consider this your stern, but well-intentioned, reminder to do the same.

With just over six weeks of summer left, I’m making sure to take all the time outside I can before Chicago starts to change color and the winds get harsher. I’ve promised myself to soak up plenty of long walks, with the occasional stop for a frozen treat. I’m doing my best to dine al fresco and enjoy all of the outdoor fun Chicago has to offer, even as everyone rushes around to get back to school and start new routines, even if they’re just students of life.

Despite my desire to hold on to the feeling of summer as long as possible, I do have to face the fact that being married to a teacher means a complete vibe shift in mid-August, whether I like it or not. Even so, I’m planning to keep the ease of summer going, not just in how I dress or the content I consume, but in my homemaking as well. We’ll still be enjoying plenty of farmers market produce, and nary a pumpkin candle will be burned! I fully intend on sneaking in plenty more beach days, and enjoying my favorite lemon and mint candles from Nest (as well as these Mrs. Meyer’s tomato vine-scented products) until autumn actually makes her way to us.

I should clarify that I actually love fall—in fact, I enjoy it even more than summer. The clothes, the food, the scents, the weather—I love all of it infinitely more. But it’s the collective rush to move from one season to the next, to be so focused on what’s coming rather than enjoying the present, that I find distressing. In flitting from one thing to the next instead of truly savoring what season we are actually in, we end up wishing away time—the one thing we can never get back, and the one thing it feels there’s never enough of.

So while I eagerly await all the goodness fall ushers in, I will be right here, savoring the summer heat and all that comes with it, especially the bits that are simpler before the world returns to work.

Until next time,

Em

xx

Life has a way of stopping you in your tracks. In my last Sunday edit, I wrote about the seasonal shift that the warmer months bring, and embracing the slower pace and stillness of summer—a state of mind I fully intended on embracing. So when my wife and I were faced with a deeply difficult, personal loss, I found myself needing to retreat entirely. It wasn’t just about choosing to slow down; it was about survival, and learning how to hold myself and the woman I love together when everything felt fractured.

I’ve spent the last eight weeks intentionally shrinking my world so that I could heal myself enough to actually inhabit it again.

My wife and I packed up our car, and both dogs, and drove to North Carolina to spend time with my in-laws at their lakehouse. After a couple of weeks, we stole away to the Bahamas for even warmer weather and an even slower pace of living. Whether fresh or salty, there has been so much healing in and by the water. Something about the scale of the ocean makes grief feel smaller, or at least more manageable, though that could have been the rum.

I’ve been reminded that refilling my cup isn’t a passive act: it takes dedicated time and practice. For me, that meant finally leaning into the things I have to intentionally leave myself time for: slow mornings, hours and hours of reading, journaling, and strolls through museums and markets. Creating and testing out new recipes when inspiration strikes, sitting at a cafe and watching lives lived around and alongside mine, and enjoying the sights, smells, and sounds that make me feel alive and present. Also, I’ve been needlepointing and playing mahjong—tactile, rhythmic hobbies that keep my hands busy and my mind from racing.

I’ve also been kinder to myself in the kitchen. When the energy isn’t there, I outsource the cooking and grocery shopping (what else is DoorDash for?). When the inspiration is there, I try a new recipe, but only when it feels like a joy rather than a chore.

I’ve even started writing creatively. The characters and plot twists are just whispers right now—a distant, quiet goal—but for the first time in a long time, I have the mental space to imagine it, and getting back into the rhythm of creating feels like returning home.

Thank you for your patience and your grace while I’ve been quiet. I’m not back to 100%, and I’m not rushing to get there. For now, I’m just here, present in the stillness and ready to show up again. There are no curated lists in this Sunday Edit—just a simple reminder to slow down, notice the beauty around you, and embrace it in both the good times and the bad.

Until next time

xx

Em

Happy Memorial Day weekend, everyone! We did it, we survived another winter and warmer weather is finally here! Everyone I talk to is preparing for summer and the laidback days we have to look forward to.

The collective anticipation feels a bit deeper this year. As I discussed in the first installment of The Sunday Edit, I think our current obsession with the 90s is about more than just fashion; it’s a craving for a time when it felt easier to slow down and be present. My goal is to give myself a “90s summer” defined by analog activities and a firm avoidance of the decision fatigue and micro-trends that clutter our modern lives.

If you ask me, everything should be simpler in the warmer months. I’ve already started the process of stripping back; wearing less makeup, carrying less in my handbag, and allowing some spontaneity to find me. Even my time in the kitchen is shifting—the less I have to turn on my stove or oven, the better.

Whatever your summer plans look like, I think we are all looking to embrace a little less of everything. Less hustle, less bustle, and a return to routines that actually serve us.

TO SHOP THE EDIT: Lands End linen palazzo pants, Lands End linen peplum top, J. Crew linen pants, J.Crew linen shirt, Margaux sandals, market bag, Molly Moorkamp silk scarf, Jackie Ohh Raybans, Lack of Color Paloma sun hat.

This post contains affiliate links; I may earn a small commission if you choose to shop through them (at no additional cost to you!).

There is a physical relief that comes with shedding the winter uniform. I realized recently that I am quite literally carrying less weight in my every day bags. Gone are the emergency gloves, the extra wool socks and the hats and scarves I tend to tote around during Chicago winters “just in case.” I’ve even stored my parka, and Chicagoans know that’s a sure sign that warmer months are here to stay!

As I lighten my load, I’m applying the same “less is more” philosophy to my daily essentials and routines.

When the city fully opens up, my relationship with movement shifts entirely. During the winter, exercise feels like a chore; something I have to pack a bag for and commute to in the dark. At home routines are challenging too, because when the subzero temps are creeping through the windows, my dogs take my rolling out a mat for yoga or Pilates as an invitation to snuggle up and keep warm— and who am I to deny them that? But in the summer, movement becomes less incidental and, dare I say, enjoyable.

I find myself focusing much less on scheduled classes and rigid gym time, and more on the walkability of my beloved city. It’s the realization that a twenty minute walk to the train, or a stroll from the Art Institute up to the Bloomingdale’s building feels like a lighter feat when you aren’t fighting the wind and chill.

Getting my steps in is no longer a metric on a watch, it’s just the natural result of running errands on foot, or exploring a new-to-me neighborhood. And when I need to cool off, I’m trading higher intensity classes for a swim in Lake Michigan—or whatever body of water I’m closest to. It’s about movement that feels like a part of my life, not something separate to be sought out.

To help you slow down and simplify this summer, I’ve gathered a few things that are inspiring me as of late. From the pages I’m turning to the pieces keeping me comfortable as the weather warms up, here is what I’m currently reading, watching, wearing, and enjoying at home.

There’s something particularly delicious about reading in the summer. Savoring stories with my toes in the sand, lazily making my way through a chapter or two floating on the lake—it just feels like summer was made for reading.

• I just finished A Flicker in the Dark by Stacy Willingham for a book club I’m in. I liked the book overall, but had the plot twist pegged early on. Though I’ll admit that may have more to do with my lifelong affinity for Agatha Christie rather than a lack of imagination from the author.

• Currently reading all the glossies! I have subscribed to the same magazines for years (Vogue, Town & Country, Victoria, Architectural Digest), and can’t help but think society’s current obsession with the 90’s just may inspire a print media renaissance. I love reading my tried-and-true magazines even more in the summer, and I tend to pick up different options that catch my eye when I’m in a store. There’s just something about flipping through an editorial on vacation.

• Usually I am not one to take book recommendations from Booktok, but I did just order a copy of Yesteryear by Caro Claire Burke. I’ve added this to my summer reading list (along with everyone and their mother) and I’m excited to dive in!

• I tend to watch less tv in the summer, but I feel like nearly every day ends with a movie, so I know I’ll finish this list of 90’s films I shared in my first Sunday Edit.

• Summer feels like the perfect time to keep Nancy Meyers on in the background when I do need some screen time. Something’s Gotta Give, It’s Complicated, and The Parent Trap are the three I keep on rotation.

• Tennis! I’m not the biggest sports fan, but tennis was the one sport I willingly played growing up, so catching Wimbledon and The US Open is always something I enjoy (though I don’t watch religiously). There’s always some great fashion moments from the tournaments, too!

• The Handbag Edit: I’m storing my large leather neverfulls for the season and changing over to a small collection of canvas totes and basket bags. The bag I carry from one day to the next is no longer a survival kit for the tundra. I’ve swapped the heavy salves and thick creams I’d carry to re-apply after exposure to the cold and wind, opting instead for a more streamlined selection of products to have on hand. It’s amazing how much mental space you clear when you aren’t digging through piles of winter essentials just to find your keys.

• The SPF First Routine: My skincare and makeup have simplified significantly since entering my thirties, but I pare my products down even further in the summer time. I’m a bit of a fanatic about sun protection (something my mother passed down to me after years and years of her fretting over my fair skin). Since I’m reapplying SPF every 80 minutes, I’ve moved toward all daytime products that contain SPF—even my lipgloss and handcream are pulling double duty. If it doesn’t protect my skin, it isn’t making the cut.

• The Summer Uniform: For me, getting dressed in the summer is an exercise in natural fibers. I’m reaching exclusively for cotton and linen. I only want fabrics that breathe and move with me. My summer wardrobe consists of cotton and linen sets to mix a match, and plenty of light, flowy dresses.

• My accessories have shifted to the purely functional: a curated rotation of sun hats, ball caps, silk scarves, and a sunnies.

When it comes to seasonal transitions, I’m always sure to shake-up how I keep house. While my cleaning routines are consistent all year long, the way I decorate, host and cook are all simplified in the warmer months.

• Around the house: as soon as the temperatures are consistently above 60 degrees, I take it as a sign to swap out the flannel sheets and wool blankets for gauzy cotton throws. Seasonal flower arrangements replace the ivory roses I tend to keep around the house.

• To market, to market: Food shopping in the summer is almost exclusively done at farmers markets. I usually make it to mid-May before I lose my will to cook entirely. At that point, I try to turn on my oven only for Sunday roast chicken and the occasional loaf of sourdough. Otherwise, farm-fresh produce and other market wares make up most of our meals.

• Understated Hosting: In my opinion, the warmer months are the time to keep get-togethers pared back. Fresh flowers, fruit salads, charcuterie, and artisanal breads can all be acquired at your local market and displayed on trays you already own. There’s no need to cook up a storm when hosting in the heat, keep people snacking, make a couple pitchers of batched cocktails, have white wines and rosé chilled, and you’re set! Save the elaborate feasts and decor for cooler months when you’re all forced to stay inside. Make liberal use of your own outdoor space, or invite friends to meet up at a park nearby!

I’m realizing that this 90s summer I’ve been dreaming of is really just about removing the barriers between myself and the season. By carrying less, wearing less, and overthinking less, it feels as if summer finally offers us the space to just be. Whether your summer plans include intricate itineraries, or lots of lazy days, I hope this has inspired you to stick to the essentials and stay present. Summer always seems to pass too quickly, be sure to enjoy it while it’s here.

What are you stripping back this month? I’d love to hear how you’re editing your days to have your own simplified summer in the comments.

There is a specific kind of magic found in a quiet house before the rest of the world decides to wake up. It’s the blue-grey light filtering in through the curtains and the settled silence that hasn’t yet been broken by the frantic ping of a notification.

I’ll be the first to admit it: for the longest time, I treated my mornings like a race I was already losing. My phone was the first thing I touched every single day. I was scrolling through feeds, allowing the chaos of the internet to dictate my mood before I’d even gotten out of bed. It always left me feeling behind before the day had even started.

The Art of the Slow Rise

Lately, I’ve been perfecting what I’ve deemed the art of the slow rise and leaning into a much softer way of waking up. I am a career caretaker in the process of building my family, and my mornings are often the only time I get to myself. While many folks like to start the day early in an effort to begin tackling their to-do lists, for me, my mornings are less about productivity and more about the quiet rebellion of choosing myself first. It means waking a bit earlier—5:00 AM most days, though I’ll let my body rest longer if I feel I need it. My Hatch alarm has been my saving grace here; it allows me to curate a simulated sunrise and tinkling classical music so I’m nudged awake gently, rather than jarred by a phone alarm. That small shift has made rising early enough to give myself the gift of me-time, before starting my work caring for others.

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The Sacred First Hour

The rule is simple, though the execution requires a bit of effort for someone who is frequently online: no screens for the first sixty minutes. I realized that when I was checking my phone immediately, I was essentially inviting a hundred strangers into my bedroom to shout their opinions at me. Instead, I’ve been leaving the phone in the other room at night so I’m not even able to reach for it first thing. For that first hour I’m awake without it glued to my hand, I can focus on the things that actually make me feel grounded.

I start with hydration—a full glass of water to wake up my system while the kettle hums in the background. I’m not really a breakfast person, but I try to get in a bit of protein before my caffeine so I’m not crashing by noon. There is a profound difference in how the afternoon feels when the morning begins with real sustenance rather than just a caffeine-induced haze. I try to get in some light movement, too—nothing intense, just some gentle stretching or time on my vibration plate before the dog walk. These things feel like the best way to tell my body that we’re awake and we’re on the same team.

The Heart of the Morning

The real shift, though, happens when I settle at my vanity. I know some women prefer to rush this transition, treating it as a hurdle to clear before “real life” starts, but I delight in the ritual. I take my time applying my skincare and as much or as little makeup as I’d like. I fix my hair, taking my time to ensure it’s in a style I’ll be comfortable with all day. All the while, I listen to some calming classical music, an audiobook or podcast about something other than the news. This time is meant for me, and the rest of the world can wait.

Next, I dress in something I’ve usually chosen the night before, leaving time to lint roll, trim a dangling thread, or reinforce a loose button—making sure the outfit is exactly as I want it to be. There’s something so grounding about choosing to wear sumptuous, natural fabrics and embracing the art of dressing well. It’s not just about putting on clothes; it’s about choosing the uniform for the life I actually want to lead. I’m not sure when taking pride in your personal appearance became a thing of vanity, I was always taught it was a sign of respect for myself and others, something I wish more people understood. I know it seems old-fashioned, but, our grandmothers knew what they were talking about.

Whether I’m heading to work, keeping house or just preparing to sit at my desk to write, the way I present myself is the first favor I do for myself all day. I’ve started to romanticize this ritual because I know it’s often the only moment I get alone, and I find I am always more productive when I’ve truly gone through the process of grooming and dressing.

Setting the Tone

Once I am ready for the day, I take a moment to go over my calendar and check my daily list of tasks. I jot down anything we need from the market, do my best to make sure my wife and I are both headed out the door with a lunch packed, and I go about my day. Since making my morning routine a time I intentionally focus on myself, I’ve noticed the rest of my day runs more smoothly. I’m not feeling desperate for a moment alone by noon because I gave myself that first hour (sometimes two) of the day.

I know many women will read this and think, “I don’t have time for all of that…” but I’m sure you do, if you stay off your phone for that first hour and maybe wake just a bit earlier. I invite you to leave the phone on the nightstand when your alarm goes off, or leave it in a different room entirely. Reclaim your morning and see how the rest of your day follows suit. As discussed in last Sunday’s post, life isn’t something to be optimized, its something to be enjoyed.

Whether you’re heading out to tackle a busy schedule or staying in with a stack of magazines, I hope you find a way to make your morning feel like a gift you’ve given yourself rather than a chore to get through. It’s not about vanity; it’s about deciding that you—and the way you move through the world—are worth those extra few minutes of care.

xx

Em

Happy Sunday, friends.

Grab your something to sip on, a cozy spot, and let’s have a little chat. Because this week, I have a bit of a confession—and maybe a minor rant—to share.

If you’ve been around here for any length of time, you know I talk a lot about living a curated life. But lately, I’ve been thinking about how the word “curated” has been entirely misconstrued. Somewhere along the line, society decided that curating your life meant making it look perfect for an audience, or worse, hacking your daily existence to achieve peak, algorithmic efficiency.

We have become absolutely obsessed with optimization. We track our sleep, and our steps. We meal-prep identical plastic containers of fuel to save the thirty minutes on making a weeknight meal, and we turn our hobbies into “side hustles.” We treat our days like a corporate calendar to be managed, stripped of any empty space.

As a card-carrying, type-A Virgo, trust me when I say: I love efficiency. I love a routine and a checklist. But I fear we’ve become so engrossed in managing our time that we’ve accidentally optimized all the magic right out of it.

We are living as if life is a dress rehearsal. We’re constantly preparing for some vague, future moment when we’re finally successful enough, or organized enough, or rested enough to actually enjoy ourselves. But this is it. This is the one shot we get. And I refuse to spend my one wild and precious life rushing through it.

When I curate my life, it isn’t for content. It isn’t for anyone else’s eyes. It’s entirely for me.

TO SHOP THE EDIT: J. Crew Baird McNutt Irish linen shirt, J. Crew Soleil linen pants, J.Crew linen dress, Lands End cotton dress, Margaux flat sandals, handwoven Market Bag. Shop all my Summer staples here.

This post contains affiliate links; I may earn a small commission if you choose to shop through them,

(at no additional cost to you!).

If I look back at where this deep-seated need to live beautifully came from, it traces all the way back to a single weekend when I was ten years old, staying at my godmother’s house. I remember sitting captivated in front of the television, watching the original Audrey Hepburn version of Sabrina for the very first time. I was entirely spellbound by the transformation, the elegance, the romance of it all. When I went home and raved about how much I loved it, my stepfather immediately introduced me to the remake with Harrison Ford. Those two films became etched into my psyche.

They showed me that life could be treated like art.

But it wasn’t just Hollywood magic that shaped me; it was the real-life magic of my grandmother. She was a woman who never, ever waited for “the right time.” She pulled out the real, beautiful dishes for every snack and meal—I don’t think we ever used paper plates or plastic utensils at her house. She believed in using the best things we owned, wearing our best clothes, and presenting ourselves well to the world every single day. And not for anyone else’s benefit, simply because we owed it to ourselves.

Between those cinematic worlds and my grandmother’s daily standard, a blueprint was formed. Coupled with everything we talked about last week, these are the moments that inform exactly who I am today. It’s why I believe so fiercely in creating a beautiful existence, right now, in the present tense.

I know there are plenty of people out there who look at these choices and dismiss them as frivolous. They think romanticizing a morning routine or obsessing over aesthetics is superficial. And honestly? That is such a profound shame, because they’ll never understand the depth of beauty there is to be found in the everyday.

They miss the poetry entirely.

So yes, I romanticize my daily rituals because the alternative is letting the mundane swallow me whole.

I would infinitely rather cook a beautiful meal on a random weeknight—with classical music playing, a candle throwing shadows on the wall, and the kitchen smelling like garlic and butter—than open a pre-portioned container of leftovers. When I handle the never-ending cycle of keeping house, I put on an audiobook, and I find comfort in knowing that at the finish line, there is a hot cup of tea and a piece of really good chocolate waiting for me, because I’ve designed my day that way.

And yes, I wear the outfits I want to wear. I wear the classic silhouettes, the beautiful natural fibers, the pieces that make me feel alive, even when I know someone at the market is inevitably going to ask why I’m “so dressed up” for a Tuesday morning errand.

Why am I dressed up? Because I am alive. Because the simple act of putting myself together is an act of gratitude for the day I’ve been given.

Luxuriating in your morning routine instead of racing the clock isn’t a waste of time—it’s the whole point of time. Beauty, texture, and slow, deliberate enjoyment are not luxuries we earn after we’ve checked off every item on our to-do list. They are the baseline of a life well-lived.

To help you slow down and find a little pocket of unoptimized joy today, I’ve gathered a few things that are inspiring me to stay present this week. From the pages I’m turning to the pieces keeping me comfortable as the weather warms up, here is what I’m currently reading, watching, wearing, and enjoying at home.

I’m currently reading Jackie, Janet and Lee by J. Randy Taraborrelli. This book details the lives of three of the most glamorous women of the twentieth century. As a life long lover of all things Kennedy and Kennedy adjacent, I am finding this book fascinating!

I recently received a copy of The Daily Connoisseur’s Guide to Living Well at Home by Jennifer L. Scott. So far, I’ve only just flipped through this, but I can tell it’s one of those lifestyle books I’ll keep forever. The author discusses the extraordinary beauty of ordinary days, and delves into the philosophy of elegant, intentional living. A friend once recommended Jennifer’s YouTube channel to me, and I’ve consumed her content for years now! Her other books are great reads, too.

I recently re-watched both versions of Sabrina (1954 & 1995). The ‘95 version is wonderful, but, to me, Audrey’s version will always be the best. In a culture obsessed with “optimizing” every second, rewatching Sabrina feels like a necessary exhale. Whether Audrey Hepburn or Julia Ormond is on screen, the heart of this coming-of-age story reigns true. Sabrina’s journey isn’t a productivity hack or a quest for a billionaire lover; it’s about expansion. It’s a beautiful reminder that reinventing yourself is simply a deliberate choice to live beautifully, romanticize the everyday, and fully taste life rather than streamline it.

I’ve also been making my way through this list of the 32 best films from the 90’s that I mentioned in my very first Sunday Edit. Next up from this list? The Age of Innocence, one of my favorite Scorsese films. His lush adaptation of the Edith Wharton novel hits the exact same nerve from the opposite angle of both the ‘54 and ‘95 Sabrina films. New York high society is the ultimate, stifling exercise in social optimization, where lives are perfectly structured but completely hollow.

Together, these films expose the modern myth of the “perfectly curated life.” True coming-of-age isn’t about playing by a rigid set of rules; it’s about having the courage to actually live.

Now that the weather is finally warming, my daily uniform has officially shifted to my favorite linen and cotton sets and separates. Dresses are my go-to, and I hardly ever wear denim in the summer, but linen skirts, pants and shirts are a must. I keep my jewelry to a minimum, but will wear the occasional silk scarf for a touch of added glamour and sun protection. And I’ve never met a wide brimmed straw hat I didn’t like.

In a world that tells us to dress for the gaze of others or the trends of the minute, leaning into these natural fibers feels like a quiet act of defiance. It’s about dressing beautifully and entirely for myself—finding that perfect intersection of elegance and ease. As the temperatures rise, staying cool and comfortable shouldn’t mean compromising on style. Instead, it’s a daily practice in romanticizing the everyday, keeping things breathable, and moving through the heat with grace.

Living: Embracing the Shift

With a wave of very welcome change headed for my home in the coming months, my current systems and routines are about to be beautifully disrupted. To keep errands, appointments, and tasks grounded, I’m leaning heavily on my planners—both digital and paper-bound. But organization is only half the equation; I’m keeping the vibes high and the lights low, lighting my favorite summer candles, playing background music, and turning every ordinary moment into a movie scene. Effortless? Not entirely. But for the overall effect? Worth every single extra step.

Eating: Simple, Fresh & Al Fresco

As the weather warms, my interest in spending hours in a hot kitchen is rapidly dwindling. Instead, I’m returning to simple, fresh meals made from farmers market produce and specialty shop finds. On the days I am out and about, I’m skipping the optimized fast-casual spots to enjoy delicious, slow meals at sweet, family-owned restaurants representing different cultures—al fresco as often as humanly possible.

Doing: Artful Afternoons

When I find myself wandering the city with free time, I’m making good use of my art museum membership. Rather than rushing through to check off an exhibit, I’m lazily making my way through the Impressionists and whatever other masterpieces catch my eye. It is the ultimate antidote to the “optimized” day—just perusing the expositions that bring the most joy, at an entirely unhurried pace.

So for this week, my challenge to you is to do something entirely inefficient. Put your Tuesday night dinner on the heirloom china. Dine by candlelight. Wear the dress that’s “too nice” for a casual afternoon. Let the morning stretch out a little longer than it should. After all, if you can’t slow down to enjoy life in the summer, when can you? Stop optimizing, and just start living, beautifully.

With love,

Em

I realized I was not a woman embracing modernity, but a woman relying on the old-school lessons taught to me in my childhood and adolescence. I was suddenly smack-dab in the middle of a Chicago winter, meticulously checking fabric composition labels and realizing that the “buy cheap, buy twice” lecture was less of a critique and more of a prophecy. The first time I repeated the phrase, “Only boring people are bored,” my soul briefly left my body—I didn’t know when I had become my grandmother.

I am a woman who consists of the wise words and habits of the women that raised me. My sarcasm and sass are not only mine; the phrases I repeat are entirely unoriginal. I see it when I look at my own handwriting and realize it is a mirror image of my grandmother’s—small, succinct, and identical. I hear it when I open my mouth and a phrase comes out with my mother’s exact inflection, unplanned and perfectly timed. My ability to let a little one struggle to figure something out, knowing it will teach them in the long run, is a learned behavior. I exist entirely as I am because of the women who taught me everything they knew. This week’s Sunday Edit is a love letter to the collective wisdom of the women who saw it all coming and made me exactly who I am today.

The Woman I Am at Home

My maternal grandmother is most present with me when I’m in my kitchen. Her lessons come out in the way I approach a simple meal—the understanding that the best food doesn’t need to be complicated to be soulful. Her patience and expert timing are at the front of my mind each time I endeavor to bake; she always made it clear that baking is a science—a perfectly baked cake is not a “pinch of this, dash of that” situation. In a world of “viral” recipes and over-the-top tablescapes, I find myself returning to her grounded, simple cooking. It’s a reminder that the heart of a home is found in the rhythm of a kitchen that knows how to nourish.

I’ve loved hosting since I was a little girl. I was the friend inviting people over for tea; I was the friend insisting everyone come to my dorm to get ready. I didn’t want my college parties to be like other college parties, so there were always themes, planned games, and food prepared for guests who were used to bowls of chips or nothing at all. My love of hosting came from the collective effort of my “village.” My paternal grandmother taught me that “the good stuff”—the hats, the rugs, the fancy teacups—shouldn’t be hidden away. They are tools for making everyday life feel like an elegant affair; she’d throw blankets over her clothesline to create a tent, and bring out all sorts of treasures so my cousins and I could play “Queen of Sheba” in her backyard.

I watched the women in my life plan family gatherings meticulously, usually preparing most of the meals by hand, but I also learned the importance of choosing when and how to outsource. Because of them, sometimes I know to wave the white flag and order catering for an event, or a cake that I’d never have the time to replicate. Every woman who had a hand in raising me had her own culinary customs, tips, and tricks, and they’ve all played a part in making me the hostess and home chef I am now. Each woman also, in some way, impressed upon me the truth that the best way to ensure your guests are having a good time is to have a good time yourself.

On Personal Presentation

I owe my lack of fashion faux pas to my mother and my paternal grandmother. While these two women couldn’t be more different in their personal style, both encouraged me to take pride in my appearance and taught me that trends were fleeting, but the classics were forever.

Recently, color analysis has come back into vogue and everyone wants to find their “season,” but I’ve known mine since I was nine years old. While other girls my age were lost in the neon craze of the early 2000s, I knew better. I was taught to dress for my silhouette and to favor classic styles. I’ll never forget being taken to get my “colors done” at a tiny department store—a move that seemed so silly then, but one I now realize was invaluable. Because of that guidance, I understand my Autumn palette and the power of a well-chosen sweater set. My grandmother turned a dreaded trip for my first bra into a masterclass in womanhood, teaching me that how we present ourselves to the world is a form of self-respect. Admittedly, I did spend some of my younger years wearing too much black eye makeup, but eventually, I made my way back to my trusted brown and plum hues.

Auntie Influence

My father had three sisters, and if you’ve ever enjoyed or suffered a quick bout of witticism from me, you have them to thank. My father’s younger sisters were sassy, sarcastic, and usually armed with a perfectly timed joke; every bit of that is ingrained in me. They taught me that a sharp mind and a well-placed joke are the best accessories a woman can carry.

In my daily life, especially when the small creatures I care for are testing every boundary I’ve put in place, I find myself drawing on the patience of my father’s older sister and my godmother. Her steadfast faith and quiet calm are the blueprints I use to keep my own peace. She taught me that patience isn’t just about waiting; it’s about how you behave while you’re waiting.

My Mother’s Daughter

Growing up, I was always very aware of the fact that I don’t really resemble my mother. She’s petite, dark-haired, and olive-complexioned. I’m built like a Viking by comparison, and I was always very bothered that I didn’t look like her. I have realized, however, that I am exactly like my mother in so many ways—most of all in her resilience. I have watched my mother move from one catastrophe to another, all while keeping the people around her happy and well cared for. She’s taught me it’s great to be independent, but sometimes it’s necessary to ask for help. She’s taught me how to stay grounded, grateful, and present. She’s taught me to listen to my intuition and to believe people when they tell me who they really are. She’s also taught me that nothing can improve a bad day as well as turning up the music and singing at the top of my lungs.

While the women who raised me are all different in a myriad of ways, each one of them displayed an ability to keep moving forward through heartbreak, health scares, and loss. None of them ever got knocked down and stayed there. They taught me to roll with the punches—and to keep an eye out to avoid them when possible. But even when the unavoidable strikes, I know they’ve instilled in me the ability to persevere.

This week, I’m especially grateful for the women who played a hand in making me who I am. My sense of style comes from them. My love of classic film, music, and literature comes from them. My determination to live beautifully and embellish everyday moments comes from them. As we move through May, I want to invite you to consider where your sense of humor or your industriousness came from. What parts of you were inspired by the women who raised you? I’d also like to remind you to light the candles, use the good china, and make a “Queen of Sheba” moment out of a regular Tuesday.

Happy Mother’s Day,

xx

Em

But this past Sunday, I didn’t have it in me to drum up a bunch of sass and witticisms to share in a Substack post. I didn’t even have the energy to get online and share my frustrations with everything and nothing at all. Instead, I moped around my apartment, thinking briefly of going to an art museum to lift my spirits, but I quickly realized I didn’t have the energy to get out of my pajamas and go enjoy the Impressionists. Instead, I streamed a favorite movie of mine, one that always seems to help me feel something when I don’t want to feel anything at all: Breakfast at Tiffany’s.

As the film neared its end and I found myself feeling somewhat less annoyed with the world, I realized I was having my own bout of “the mean reds.” That’s what Holly Golightly calls the existential dread she’s feeling when she explains what’s wrong with her to Fred/Paul. She says, “…the blues are because you’re getting fat and maybe it’s been raining too long. You’re just sad, that’s all. But the mean reds are horrible. Suddenly you’re afraid and you don’t know what you’re afraid of.”

And that’s exactly what I was feeling. Maybe it was my hormones, or maybe it’s the bloviating crook “leading” this country, but I think it’s mostly the exhaustion of being a millennial. We are a generation trapped in a cycle of unending financial crises, a skyrocketing cost of living, and wars we never asked for. I look around and see so many women my age mourning the lives we were promised—still working and waiting for the babies, the dream homes, and a world that doesn’t feel like it’s on the verge of implosion. And while there is very little we can do in terms of fixing things (besides donating time and resources, contacting elected officials, and vote-vote-voting the warmongering morons out of office), I gathered my wits and set out to do the things I know are a surefire way to pull me out of a slump and help me move forward—or at the very least, make it easier to pretend everything is okay.

Holly’s famous solution for the mean reds is to jump into a taxi and head to Tiffany’s. For her, the jewelry store represents a world of absolute order, quiet, and prestige where “nothing very bad could happen to you.” The calm, clinical elegance of the store acts as an anchor against the chaotic, vibrating fear of the reds. My Tiffany’s is the Art Institute of Chicago; something about the Impressionist wing and the exhibit of the Thorne Miniature Rooms brings me such peace. But I knew heading into the tourist trap that the museum becomes on the weekends would only make matters worse, so I opted instead for some never-fail solutions that don’t require me to leave my home (well, all but one).

Want to shop the edit? The J. Crew drapey cotton-blend pajamas are my favorite (always utilize their monogramming service). The Voluspa Milk Rose candle is my bedroom & bathrooom fragrance of choice, all year long. Theres something so old Hollywood about these cozy faux fur slide slippers, and my Drowsy silk sleep mask is my favorite part of my evening routine, no matter my mood!

*This post contains affiliate links; I may earn a small commission if you choose to shop through them,

(at no additional cost to you!).

If you find yourself suffering your own bout of the “mean reds” and, like me, you can’t muster up the motivation to head out to whatever destination qualifies as your Tiffany’s fix, I hope you give my perfected reset routine a try to set yourself right and kick the existential dread taking up space in your head and heart.

Step One: The Temperature-Controlled Walk

My first attempt at feeling better usually involves a walk out in the fresh air, so long as the temperature outside is 75 degrees or lower. For me, going out in temps any higher than that is a surefire way to make things worse. Use your own judgment here.

Step Two: Internal Hydration

My second attempt at getting myself out of a funk always involves water. Usually drinking a great big glass of it, with lemon or mint for vibes. Half the time I am feeling cranky, it’s because I’m dehydrated (a fact my mother loves to bring up anytime I have even a hint of an attitude). Apparently, this has been true about me since I was a very little girl, but I don’t know that I entirely believe it.

Step Three: The “Everything” Shower

After downing a large glass of water, I refill it and head in for an “everything” shower—and I mean everything. This is not meant to be a quick thing. This is about luxuriating and enjoying the experience. I love taking my 40-ounce Stanley full of icy electrolyte water into the bathroom to sip on while I do the absolute most. I light candles in the bathroom and out, so that when I am finished and step into my bedroom, my space smells like Voluspa Milk Rose. I slather on a face mask, get the water as hot as I can stand, and do any and everything there is for a woman to do in the shower. Shampoo, shave, condition, treat, scrub, moisturize—this is the time to do it all. And just because you’ve stepped out of the shower doesn’t mean you’re done. Moisturizing from top to toe and sitting on your bed wrapped in a towel for at least half an hour is a required part of an everything shower. I don’t make the rules, okay? I just follow them, happily.

Step Four: The Uniform

Once you’re showered, moisturized, and hydrated, put on your favorite pair of pajamas. I don’t care what time it is; I don’t care if it’s noon. Loungewear is also acceptable, but no hard pants, no underwire. I mean it!

Step Five: Outsourced Fuel

The next step, and this is a very important one, is eating a delicious meal you have absolutely no hand in preparing. This is where your partner or your favorite delivery service has the chance to shine. My wife saw my mood coming from a million miles away yesterday and ordered us Chipotle for dinner. No mess in my kitchen and chips and queso? Major bonus points there!

Step Six: Curated Comfort Content

While enjoying your meal, it’s important to watch something that will thrill and/or delight you, but do not—I repeat, DO NOT—watch anything that will make you think of what an absolute dumpster fire living in America is right now. Be a responsible citizen later; you’re currently filling your cup so you can fight harder later. My viewing go-to is usually *Sex and the City* or some other pretty, frivolous syndicated show. True crime is also always a great option; yesterday I watched a couple hours of *Dateline*. They caught the guy at the end of both episodes, and justice was almost as sweet as the Yasso my wife had the forethought to grab for dessert.

If it’s too early to go to bed at this point, I like to reach for a stack of magazines (because I always have some nearby). I know plenty of people read and then toss their magazines, or they stopped subscribing entirely and only have digital access to their favorites now, but I never gave up my physical subscriptions. Nothing’s better than grabbing a stack of glossies and spending time flipping through their pages when I’m showered, fed, and waiting to go to bed at the stroke of 8:00 p.m.

So, if the “mean reds” have found you this week, please consider this your permission slip to stop performing and start preserving. Whether your Tiffany’s is a world-class museum or just the quiet sanctuary of your own bathroom lit by a single candle, honor that need for order and calm. The world—and all its noise—will still be there tomorrow, but it’s a lot easier to face when you’re hydrated, moisturized, and wearing your softest pajamas. Take care of yourselves, and I’ll see you next Sunday (hopefully with a bit more sass and a lot less dread).

Until then,

Em

xx

I am not usually a fan of trends. I find their fleeting nature exhausting—a race toward a finish line that doesn’t exist. However, there is one cultural shift gaining traction that I can’t help but champion: the natural aging movement. It is a radical rejection of the fear-based propaganda directed at women, a refusal to buy into the ludicrous concept of “anti-aging.” This shift feels like a warranted metaphorical middle finger to an industry that has, for far too long, made women over thirty feel less than—as if their best years were a finite resource already spent.

The Currency of Youth

In my mid-twenties, I lived in the belly of the beauty-retail beast. I flourished in sales and management, but the luster eventually wore off. As I careened toward thirty, I felt a mounting pressure that I was leaving my prime behind. I grew weary of the frantic energy; customers and employees alike were consumed by a desperate need to keep their faces from falling and their smile lines from forming. It was exhausting to witness and nearly impossible to avoid. Customers and colleagues traded recommendations for their favorite injectors like recipes. I knew exactly how many units of Botox were in my coworkers’ foreheads and precisely when they felt they were “due” for more filler. On more than one occasion, a well-meaning colleague offered to refer me to her girl to get my pesky “elevens” under control.

This obsession felt especially hollow because, at the time, my wife was fighting cancer at the age of twenty-seven. She was diagnosed just sixteen months after we were married—the kind of news that shifts your perspective forever. When you watch the person you love most fight for time itself, the “lines” those years leave behind stop looking like flaws and start looking like trophies. Growing old is a luxury afforded to few; fighting your face feels like an insult to the time you’ve been granted.

The Bare-Faced Revolution

This shift isn’t just personal; it is becoming a global standard of grace. We are seeing a bare-faced revolution led by figures like Pamela Anderson, who famously embraced attending major events without makeup, describing the experience as “freeing and rebellious.” Jamie Lee Curtis has called for the word “anti-aging” to be struck from our vernacular entirely, advocating for “pro-aging” with dignity and verve. Meanwhile, Andie MacDowell and Sarah Jessica Parker have publicly rejected the misogynistic chatter regarding silver hair and wrinkles, choosing instead to lean into their natural texture.

I should mention that I am not entirely immune to vanity. I have considered a bit of Botox, and I have no issue with women who visit their medspa—provided they are doing it for themselves and not out of a fear of being “less than.” I fully support prioritizing skin health: investing in at-home rituals and seeking treatments from trusted estheticians. There is so much we can do to keep skin even and glowing without immediately resorting to needles and knives.

Perspective is a powerful filter. When we stop frantically chasing youth, we start noticing the beauty in the present: the way a room catches the light, the comfort of a well-loved sweater, or the wisdom found in a good book. As I lean into this season of growth, here are a few things that have caught my eye and held my heart lately.

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• Currently reading: Colorful by Iris Apfel

  If this week’s essay is a middle finger to the industry, this book is the celebration that follows. Iris Apfel, who famously became a global fashion icon in her eighties and lived to be 102, left us this final, vibrant legacy. Colorful isn’t just a book of style; it’s a manifesto on how to stay interested in the world.

  Iris never tried to look “young”—she tried to look like herself, draped in layers of history, texture, and wit. Flipping through these pages feels like a conversation with the exact kind of woman I admired as a little girl (the kind of woman I hope to be): someone utterly sure of herself, who viewed her years as a canvas rather than a tragedy. It’s the perfect reminder that while we can’t stop the clock, we can certainly choose the palette we use to paint the time we have.

• Currently Watching: Come See me in the Good Light

  This Apple TV+ documentary is the visual companion to the “pro-aging” movement. It follows poet Andrea Gibson’s journey through a terminal illness, but it’s actually a film about how to live. It is raw, funny, and deeply rebellious—challenging the idea that a life is only beautiful if it is long or “perfect.” It left me feeling incredibly grateful for every line on my face.

• Currently Watching: All of my favorite “silver influencers.” I can’t speak to any procedures they may or may not have had, but these women-of-a-certain-age create content that proves its not all downhill after 30. I am most inspired when GreceGhanem, Paulina Porizkova, Joan MacDonald, and Nikol Johnson Sanchez grace my feed.

• Because I want to avoid invasive cosmetic procedures, I am always sure to wear plenty of sun protection. Since I was born, my mother has fretted over my fair skin, which meant reapplying sunscreen constantly, and insisting I wear rash-guards and sun-hats when the sun was at its highest point in the sky. I’m grateful she instilled these habits in me so young. I wear this primer with SPF beneath makeup, and I’m sure to touch up my protection every 80 minutes or so by using this powder over makeup. On barefaced days on/in the water, I use this on my face, and this sunscreen everywhere else.

• When I decided I wanted to invest in an at-home tool to keep my skin even and glowing, I purchased this red light mask. I used it about five times a week, and I have seen a dramatic difference in acne scars, skin tone and texture, and overall sensitivity.

The Grace of Acceptance

When I was a little girl, I didn’t fear the “older woman”; I wanted to be her. I was captivated by the women who seemed sure of themselves. I used to study my grandmother’s hands—the long fingers and soft skin I couldn’t wait to inherit. Her cheekbones, which I now realize were prominent due to the natural thinning of age, seemed the height of glamour. Her skin told a story of everywhere she had been and every laugh she had shared. The women in my life seemed to know everything: the best colors for their complexion, their perfect shade of lipstick, and how to make people feel seen. They were gracious hosts who didn’t have the time (or the interest) for gratuitous “nips and tucks.”

This pro-aging movement feels like a boon for all womankind, but on a personal level, it feels like a return to that childhood clarity. We are finally putting down the “anti-” weapons and realizing that a face with patina is far more interesting than one frozen in time. I’m choosing to see aging as a state to be supported, not a problem to be solved. If we are lucky enough to gain the years, the least we can do is wear them well.

Maybe it’s the change in seasons, or perhaps it is a response to the tumultuous world we live in, but recently I’ve felt a deep pull to slow down. I find myself reaching for pastimes I enjoyed as a kid in the 90’s—and I know I’m not the only one.

As someone who has always been a sucker for classic wardrobe staples and silhouettes, I allow a lot of trends to pass me by. I’ve long been a fan of the L.L. Bean boat totes, so last year’s resurgence of the classic bags on TikTok was something I rolled my eyes at. I felt the same way about gen Z’s obsession with J. Crew’s cotton roll neck sweaters and linen pieces—as if they were the first to discover them (the classics are classic for a reason). But something feels different about the current fascination with the 90s. People aren’t just working to recreate trendy outfits, this time the infatuation feels connected to something deeper.

It seems we’re all collectively yearning for a slower life: a return to an era defined by fewer devices, more print media, and the tangible warmth of in-person connection.

While 90s nostalgia has cycled through the fashion world since the early aughts, our current obsession feels novel. It isn’t just about the clothes anymore; it’s about the lifestyle. From “90s butter mom” aesthetics to the eternal, effortlessness of Carolyn Bessette-Kennedy, we are trying to recapture a specific kind of presence. Millennials want 90s inspired summers for our children and ourselves—defined by long, sun-drenched days, minimal tech, and genuine human interactions.

As someone who vividly remembers the frantic energy of Y2K and whose younger brother (born in 2006) recently described a thrifted 1991 tour shirt as “vintage” (being born in ‘91, this felt like a literal stab to the heart), I am leaning into this shift. There is something deeply restorative about returning to a culture that feels nostalgic, analog, and less digitally overwhelming (although I will say, I am very grateful I no-longer have to wait for dial up when I do want to venture online).

If you’re interested in your own kind of slow down, but need a little inspo, tuck into the rest of the Sunday edit below, to check out what I’m reading, wearing and watching as I curate my perfect 90s summer.

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• I’m currently reading The Vanity Fair Diaries by Tina Brown, and as a lifelong lover of the glossies, this book is fascinating! A must read for anyone interested in journalism and/or the inner workings of the magazine industry in its heyday. I’m convinced we’re in for a massive revival of print media, and as someone who has subscribed to the same four magazines for nearly twenty years, I am elated!

• A friend recently sent me this Goodreads list of the Best Books of the 1990s and I was delighted to see so many of my favorites from my childhood and pre-teen years make the cut. The Girl with the Pearl Earring is currently in my TBR stack by my bed, and I may just have to pick a few others from this list to include in my summer reading.

• Anytime I need to watch a good comfort show, I tend to turn to my 90s favorites: Friends, Sex and the City, The Nanny, and Dawson’s Creek have all provided background noise (or a good cry) when necessary.

• I recently re-watched the movie Now and Then and I had forgotten what a beautiful film it is. I first watched Now and Then in 1998 at a sleepover, and remember thinking “I’m not old enough to watch this” but I loved every bit of it. I remember noticing a lot of the girls’ clothes looked like things hanging in my closet at home. It was my first lesson in the cyclical nature of fashion.

• I’ve had this list of the 32 best films from the 90s bookmarked for ages, and I’m finally going to tackle it this summer. While I’ve already checked off quite a few, I plan to work my way through the list on those day’s when it’s simply too hot to stay outside, and on cozy, stormy evenings in.

• As a gift to myself and my mental health, I am limiting how and when I consume news media. Growing up, the adults around me seemed to consume headlines only twice a day: the morning paper, and the evening broadcast. They lived without the constant barrage of information we’re plagued with today. For my 90s-inspired summer, I plan on consuming just enough news to be a responsible citizen, but I am opting out of the 24-hour cycle. If something truly important happens, I know I’ll hear about it.

• If you didn’t own a pair of Steve Madden Slinky sandals in the 90s I’m not even sure you’re old enough to be here. These were the shoe to steal from your mother’s closet. I was gifted my own pair for my tenth birthday and I cried the happiest tears! These days I tend to reach for my favorite Fitflop option for a little more support and structure. My mid-thirties feet appreciate the security of the ankle strap and extra arch support.

• When I was younger, my father’s collection of Ralph Lauren Blake long sleeve button down shirts were some of my favorite things to borrow out of his closet. There’s something so quintessentially 90s about them. When he passed, I was sure to keep the two remaining in his closet, and have since scoured resale sites and thrift stores for more. RL doesn’t produce the Blake style anymore, but I’ve purchased a few of the Iconic Oxford shirt in the same big and tall size my dad wore, and they’re just as perfect as the Blake. Both options are great for throwing on over swimsuits, or with jeans or linen pants (and layering under sweaters). I reach for these all year round, but something about them gives a very specific “Chessy” vibe I plan on channeling all summer long.

• I’m adopting a mostly analog approach to music this summer. My wife and I have collected records for over a decade, and we have a pretty impressive collection for two girls born in the 90s. There are a few I will consistently listen to throughout the year, especially around the holidays, but I want to make a more concerted effort to listen to the rest of them this summer. Our Victrola turntable has the retro flare of record players my grandparents owned, but there are plenty of more modern options for anyone interested in starting their own record collection. I’ll still use my Bluetooth devices and stream my Nostalgic Reset Spotify playlist, but only because it’s perfectly curated and contains so many songs I was singing along with in the 90s and early 2000’s.

• My mother gifted me a Camp Snap video camera this past Christmas and I plan on making good use of it this summer. The video quality it captures is fantastic, and there’s something especially nostalgic about using a video camera at family get-togethers, just like my parents did in the 90s. If you’re interested in acquiring a Camp Snap camera of your own, you can use my discount code EMILY-H7 for 7% off your purchase.

• My wife has also been pulling out her Cannon camera more and I love that we’re still able to capture moments without constantly reaching for our phones. I’m not saying I won’t be capturing content with my iPhone anymore (I can’t totally leave my modern conveniences behind) but I am excited to have the option to have better quality photos and videos that we will likely do more with than let sit and take up storage space on “the cloud.”

• Recently I’ve been leaving my phone outside of my bedroom at night, as a way to stay screen free the first hour of my day and avoid rolling over and scrolling when insomnia hits. But I think I’m officially ready to take the plunge and Brick my phone. I’m seeing and more people do this and it seems like a sure fire way to really take control of my screen time, once and for all.

Ultimately, my mission to curate a perfect 90s Summer isn’t about pretending the last thirty years didn’t happen. It’s about intentionality. It’s about choosing the weight of a book over the glow of a screen, the grain of a film photo over the perfection of a filter, and the comfort of a lived-in Oxford shirt over the fleeting high of a micro-trend.

As we move into the heat of the season, I hope you’re inspired to find your own version of slowing down and having your own 90s summer; whether that’s through embracing analog media, rediscovering a new or long lost hobby, or by simply leaving your phone in the other room. Here’s to a summer of being exactly where our feet are.

Happy Sunday,

Em

If you’ve followed me here, or on any other platform, you know I’ve often shared my content as “The Embellished Edit.” For as long as I can remember, I’ve romanticized my life by “embellishing” daily tasks and seemingly mundane moments. When I started sharing my tips and tricks online, that title seemed like the most fitting banner to work under.

However, as I’ve grown—and as the community I long to build makes it clearer that they value raw, authentic voices—I’ve found that my more poised and polished posts weren’t resonating the way I wanted them to. While I often live as the most extra, curated version of myself, there are just as many moments where I find myself in a messier rhythm: sourdough starter on the counter, stacks of magazines by the bed, and schedules shifting last minute as my wife and I navigate the chaotic, beautiful process of building a family.

Rest assured my romantic side isn’t going anywhere, I am who I am, after all! “Embellishments” will now be a recurring series for when I want to share high-style, over-the-top inspiration.

The new heart of what I am creating is The Daily Edit. Expect more frequent, raw, and real check-ins—everything from my thoughts on political and pop-culture happenings to deep dives into the practicalities of homemaking and plus-size style, with plenty of curated days, romantic rituals, and classic outfits in the mix.

This change isn’t about doing less; it’s about having the room to do more. If you’ve stuck around through the evolution, thank you. And if you’re new here, welcome. I’m so glad to have you!

This album isn’t about proving anything. It’s about play. It’s sparkly, a little unserious, and maybe even indulgent—and that’s the beauty of it. For the first time in her career, Taylor doesn’t have anything to prove. She’s not clawing her way back after a scandal, she’s not reclaiming her masters, she’s not trying to outdo her last record. She’s a billionaire who owns every note and lyric she’s ever written after years of fighting. She’s free. And this is what freedom sounds like.

The context matters, too. This is her first post-billionaire, fully independent project. There are no label overlords, no “reputation rebuilding” narrative hanging over her. For the first time she’s not fighting for ownership, validation, or reinvention. She’s just making art because she can, and that can be disorienting for listeners who’ve attached themselves to her pain or her comeback arcs, especially when the world feels so heavy.

This album feels like the kind of music you make when you’re finally out from under the weight of everyone else’s expectations, when you’ve learned to trust yourself again. It’s glitzy, theatrical, and full of winks to her past. It’s also just objectively fun, and that, I think, is what’s throwing people off.

Because somewhere along the way, we started equating seriousness with a woman’s self worth. We’re inundated with bad news, outrage, and productivity culture 24/7—perhaps with the immediate apoplectic response to this album being a prime example. Less than twelve hours after its release, TLOAS was being decimated and dissected everywhere, from onscreen news, to online think pieces and comment sections. We’ve been trained to turn joy into homework: to analyze, to optimize, to take a stance on everything. And in that cycle we’ve forgotten what it feels like to simply enjoy something.

So when an artist like Taylor steps out in feathers and rhinestones and sings songs that sound like she’s actually having a good time, it almost feels radical, because it is.

Having fun, especially as a woman in 2025, can feel like rebellion. And maybe that’s why I love The Life of a Showgirl so much. It’s confident without apology. It’s feminine without justification. It’s joy for joy’s sake. It’s a reminder that sometimes, letting yourself have fun isn’t frivolous—it’s freedom.

The frequency with which I find myself wishing I were in my thirties in the 1990s rather than the 2020s borders on absurd. And yet, the thought returns again and again, unshakable. Of course, I know that era was not without its flaws—no time ever is—but something in me insists that adult Emily might have thrived there. Without the unending onslaught of 24/7 news-cycles built on reported half truths from media outlets lacking journalistic integrity and the declining decorum that currently exists due to divisive political rhetoric, it seems to me that happiness would have felt easier, lighter, more attainable.

Instead, in the actual 1990s, I was a child with little agency, raised in a household that clung tightly to duty and expectation. Sundays, in particular, were scripted: preparing for church, attending church, dissecting the sermon afterward, and then enduring the ritual of lunch with my grandparents, whose table carried not only food but a thick air of rules and restraint. It was an exhausting theater of “shoulds.” What I longed for was achingly simple: a chance to sleep late, to watch cartoons in pajamas, to gossip on the phone with friends—instead of confessing sins and counting prayers.

Perhaps that explains why, even now, I try to give myself the Sundays I imagine 30-something Emily might have claimed in the ’90s, had she been free to choose. My Sundays are rebellions disguised as rituals: a slow morning cocooned in bed, a tower of glossy magazines I refuse to cancel (consider it my humble support of print media), a steaming cup of coffee or tea, and jazz filling the silence because the news feels too heavy. I rise only when I must—usually for a gentle walk with my wife and our dog—before returning to the soft sanctuary of our home. Afternoons spill into evenings of quiet reading, simple meals, or a film with takeout.

Sunday’s are my respite, a break from the harsh realities I’ll undoubtedly plug back into each and every other day of the week. And though I no longer force myself to participate in any sort of organized religion, there is one commandment I have kept from childhood, and it is this: Sundays are sacred. Not because of pews or sermons or carefully folded hands. Sundays are sacred because I have made them so—because they remind me that rest, joy, and unhurried time are holy, too.

For as long as I can remember, I’ve dreamed of having a space that felt like mine—a quiet little corner of the internet where I could write, reflect, and share the beauty I notice in the everyday. I first found it in Xanga—my teenage digital diary—until it fell out of vogue and disappeared into the past.

In my twenties, I returned to writing with more intention, keeping a blog I owned and paid for. I poured myself into it for years, until the technical frustrations wore me down and the rise of Instagram and TikTok made blogs feel like relics of another era. Still, the longing to write, to gather my thoughts in one place, never really left.

From the time I was little, I was dramatic in the best sense—I loved beautiful things, and I wanted everything just so. People called me “a handful,” but really, I was simply a curator at heart. I’ve always been this way. So when the trend of “romanticizing life” came along, I realized it was what I had been doing all along: curating my wardrobe, my home, and even the smallest moments to make sure beauty was never out of reach.

In recent months, I’ve had the chance to focus more on content creation—posting consistently online, sharing glimpses of daily life, the outfits I love, bits of homemaking, quips and witticisms, and the occasional piece of life advice. Through that, I’ve built a small but kindhearted community on TikTok, and it reminded me how much I craved a slower, more intentional space for ideas, inspiration, and reflection. Now, with more room in my days, I’ve finally returned to writing and I’ve made a place where I can gather my thoughts and share more deeply.

While many believe in romanticizing life, I have chosen to call it living an “embellished life”—not because it’s extravagant, but because it’s about elevating the everyday, finding beauty in the mundane, and taking pride in the details that make life feel meaningful. For years, I was told I was “too much” or “too particular.” But through sharing online, I discovered an entire community of women who feel the same.

That’s why I named this space The Embellished Edit. The “embellished” speaks to my lifelong love of curating beauty and elevating the everyday. The “edit” comes from my long-held affection for glossy magazines—their ability to distill inspiration into concise pages while still leaving room for imagination and flair. It also reflects my selective nature: what I bring into my home, how I create a moment, the details I choose to highlight. And, of course, I can’t resist a touch of alliteration. The Embellished Edit by Emily simply felt right—it captures both my voice and my vision.

Here, I’ll share the classic wardrobe pieces I return to, some recipes and the homemaking rituals that bring me joy, and the little moments that make life feel magical. Because life isn’t a dress rehearsal, and if we only get one chance at it, why not make it as lovely as we can?

If you’ve ever been told you’re “too much” for caring about beauty, or “too particular” for taking pride in the details—consider this your safe space. You belong here.

With gratitude,

Emily

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