It feels decadent just typing this.

But also, somewhat liberating?

I just spent three days cruising down the Canal du Midi, a canal from the 17th Century in the South of France that you can navigate via houseboat. (I’ll tell you more about this soon, because a mini guide is necessary!)

The fiancé and I rented a boat and dedicated the last three days to slowly cruising a small portion of the canal, stopping at tiny French towns along the way, and just…existing.

What a concept.

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I’m someone who’s always struggled with rest. It takes me time to fall asleep at night because my brain takes a while to shut down. I was raised on productivity and frowns upon idle hands. “We’ll have time to sleep when we’re dead” is a family mantra. I made up projects to work on since I can remember, took pride on being oh-so-busy…and on being tired from being so busy.

In my brain…rest has always had a decadent layer attached to it.

Like dessert. Like it’s something extra, something optional.

It wasn’t until today that something in my brain just clicked.

And I’m sitting here, on the last evening of our little voyage, still groggy from a late afternoon nap, scrambling to write these words as I feel this revelation unraveling.

Rest is not not doing anything.

Rest time is not empty space that needs to be filled. Rest is the activity in itself.

Rest is an activity in itself!!!

Did it really take me 36 years to understand this? I’m embarrassed to admit that yes.

“Rest is being productive…”I know. I’ve said it many times, but mostly in an attempt to convince myself and ease my guilt of laying on the couch at times or shutting my phone off.

But it’s one thing to understand something in theory, and another to actually grasp the meaning of it.

And I don’t believe I had ever truly grasped the meaning of rest until this very weekend.

It’s been an intense year. Planning a wedding from afar. My dad’s health scare back in February. It’s been a year of many changes, of the ground shifting, of big and very adult questions and conversations. It’s been a year of making a lot of big and small choices and decisions. Plus, a year with a constant flurry of heavy world news.

And this summer, truth be told, the continuous heatwave we’ve had in Spain, which seems to have settled in like an unwelcome guest who’s overstayed its welcome, has undoubtedly taken a toll on everyone.

The past few weeks I’ve been a glass slowly beginning to overflow with mental stimulation to the point of exhaustion.

As you can see, this trip came at the perfect time.

Three days later, I’m still tired, I’m not gonna lie. But going into this little happy weekend bubble sparked something for me.

I’m making a promise to myself to be unapologetic on my rest, to take pride on rest instead of exhaustion, and to continue unlearning the notion that rest has to be painstakingly earned.

Image via Pinterest

Looking back, the fact that I ended up moving to a country internationally known for its “siestas” feels like kismeth.

So, if you’re reading this…and you’re tired, I see you and it’s okay to be tired.

Now put down your phone and go get some real, actual rest.

You have my full permission.

— emilia

I know. It’s been a while…

I won’t pretend I had a grand reason for going quiet. Life just got loud in the way it sometimes does…but I’ve been thinking about this little corner of the internet, and about you, and I didn’t want another week to go by without showing up.

So…Here I am.

A lot has happened since we last spoke.

I’ve been making art again — slowly, in a way that feels like coming home. I’ve been planning my wedding (I’m tying the knot next December! Eeeek!!!).

And I’ve been planning something that I’m genuinely excited to tell you about.

This November, I’m hosting a Food & Wine Adventure in Mexico City.

As someone who is Mexican, and who grew up loving that city…I’ve always wanted to bring a small group of women to this city.

Women who travel the way I do.
Curiously, and above all…hungrily.

It’s November 5–9, as part of the trips we do at Solo Girl Trips, and spots are limited!

These are some of the trip highlights:

✨Market & Food Tour
✨Mezcal Tasting
✨Natural Wine Class (with my sister! Who happens to be one of the OGs in natural wine in the city)
✨Temazcal Ceremony
✨Lucha libre match (because you can’t go to Mexico city without experiencing one!)
✨Xochimilco Floating Gardens at dawn
✨Exploring the beautiful neighborhood of Coyoacán
✨And…affordable wellness add-ons! (one of my best friends is a botox wiz…wink, wink!)

If any part of you has been thinking about Mexico City or just needs a trip that feels like more than a weekend getaway…I’d love for you to come.

See the Full Itinerary

More art, food and travel soon, I promise!

love,
Emilia

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Which is exactly when things get dangerous.

Comfort is where growth stops showing up to the party. As comfortable as I’ve become with my photography, I can also see the edges of it: the same angles, the same light, the same instincts on repeat. Familiar. A little too familiar.

So this spring, I’m treating photography like a subject I genuinely want to study. Not a checklist, but a curriculum I made for myself: books, movies, practices, to push past the comfortable and figure out what else my eye is capable of seeing.

I thought it would be more fun to do it in company, so I’m inviting you along…

First up… books!

Part One:
The Books to Read / Re-Read

The Artist’s Way by Julia Cameron

Let’s start with the hard truth: I have creative blocks. We all do. There are days when I pick up my camera and feel… nothing. No inspiration, no vision, just the weight of my own expectations and the nagging little voice of Imposter Syndrome in the back of my head.

The Artist’s Way is the book for that. Cameron’s 12-week program is designed to unblock the creative resistance that keeps us playing it safe, repeating ourselves, or worse, not creating at all. It’s a fail-safe guide to getting out of our own way first.

📷 Find it here.

The Creative Act: A Way of Being by Rick Rubin

Rick Rubin isn’t a photographer, he’s a legendary music producer (Johnny Cash, Kanye West, Red Hot Chili Peppers). But The Creative Act is one of the most profound books on creativity I’ve ever encountered, regardless of medium. Rubin’s philosophy is this: the work of art already exists. Our job isn’t to force it into being, but to tune ourselves to receive it. He writes about trusting intuition over perfection, about staying open to what wants to emerge rather than forcing our way to a predetermined outcome.

📷 Find it here.

On Photography by Susan Sontag

An essential for every photographer. Part of taking my own photography seriously, is taking the identity as a photographer seriously too. And I want to re-question myself what photography is. Not just the act of image-making, but the ethics of it, the politics of it, the philosophy of it.

Sontag’s collection of essays explores how photographs shape our understanding of reality. She asks hard questions: What does it mean to photograph suffering? What power dynamics exist between photographer and subject? What are we really doing when we “capture” a moment?

These aren’t comfortable questions. But they’re necessary ones. Especially if your work falls into travel and documentary photography.

📷 Find it here.

Ways of Seeing by John Berger

This one’s been on my list for a while. More than a photography book, it’s an essay on art, perception, and how we’ve been taught to look at images. In the book, Berger talks about how context, framing, and reproduction change meaning. So hopefully, this one will be great for challenging my own perspective and photograph with more intention.

📷 Find it here.

Part Two:
Movies to Watch / Re-Watch

…Not just for the stories they tell, but for how they frame their own worlds. Each one is a masterclass in visual language, and a great way to polish our vision and gather inspiration.

Paris, Texas

(1984, dir. Wim Wenders, cinematography by Robby Müller)

I originally watched this in Photography class while in Uni. The saturated color, the light, the way the landscape is a character of its own, Paris,Texas is visual language at its finest.

🎥Why I’m watching: For a masterclass in color theory

The Darjeeling Limited

(2007, dir. Wes Anderson)

While many say this isn’t Wes Anderson’s best work, there’s something I quite like about this one visually. Though I’m not a fan of his approach to cultural representation. His usually obsessively symmetrical composition feels slightly more relaxed in this movie. And I like that sweet spot he’s achieved in Darjeeling.

🎥Why I’m watching: To study how strict composition, not just color, can create emotional resonance

Days of Heaven

(1978, dir. Terrence Malick, cinematography by Néstor Almendros)

This is the gold standard for cinematography. Malick and Almendros shot almost entirely during magic hour…that fleeting window of soft, golden light just after sunrise and before sunset. The result is 94 minutes of pure visual poetry.

🎥Why I’m watching: To remind myself that light is everything. Also, to study patience…they waited for the perfect light, every- single-day.

A Single Man

(2009, dir. Tom Ford)

Tom Ford’s directorial debut is a meditation on grief, loneliness, and beauty. The film is obsessive about light, color, texture…and it’s the result is flawless.

🎥Why I’m watching: For its use or color theory when it comes to emotion, and the impeccable styling and art direction.

Chungking Express

(1994, dir. Wong Kar-wai)

Wong Kar-wai shoots Hong Kong the way I want I dream I shoot cities: a cinematic mix of motion blur, neon glow, and urban chaos. His collaborator Christopher Doyle uses handheld cameras, step-printing, and wide-angle lenses to create a visual style that feels both intimate and dynamic.

🎥Why I’m watching: To study how movement and composition can also create emotion and a more immersive experience for the viewer.

Sans Soleil

(1983, dir. Chris Marker)

Chris Marker’s essay film is unlike anything else — a meditation on memory, time, and travel, structured as a series of letters from a fictional cameraman. It’s about what we choose to film, what we choose to remember, and the unbridgeable gap between experience and documentation.

🎥Why I’m watching: To grapple with the ethics and philosophy of looking, and what it means to be behind the camera.

The Salt of the Earth

(2014, dir. Wim Wenders & Juliano Ribeiro Salgado)

This documentary about photographer Sebastião Salgado is proof that photography can change the world. One of my favorite photographers, Salgado’s work spans decades documenting human suffering, environmental destruction, and social injustice. He witness some of the darkest corners and crevices of humanity to the point that he quit photography. Until he then shifted to photographing the earth’s last wild places as an act of hope. Fair warning: It’s a hard watch, but a necessary one.

🎥Why I’m watching: For inspiration, yes, but also to understand the weight of responsibility that comes with serious photographic work.

Ripley

(2024, Netflix series, created by Steven Zaillian)

On the surface, this is a psychological thriller about identity and obsession. But visually, it’s a masterclass in black-and-white cinematography — stark contrasts and geometric shadows, empty Italian piazzas shot like architectural studies, and every frame composed with the precision of a Renaissance painting. While I love the movie, this adaptation had me gasping at every frame.

🎥 Why I’m watching: To study how light, shadow, and composition can tell a story as powerfully as dialogue.

Part 03:
The Practice

All the books and films in the world mean nothing if the camera stays on the shelf. So here’s the practical part…three exercises I’m playing with this spring, and I think you should too.

One: Shoot the same place, four times.

Pick somewhere within walking distance. Go back four times across the season: different light, different weather, different mood. Not to document change, but to see how you change. What you notice the third time that you missed the first.

Two: Go color hunting.

Pick one color. Just one. Then go outside and photograph only that color for an hour. Every shade, texture, and context you can find it in. It sounds simple until you realize how much you've been walking past. This one has become a trend on social media for good reason: it rewires how you see, fast.

Three: Steal a frame.

Pick one image from the books or films above that stopped you cold. Study it. Then go make your own version. Not copy, but something inspired and fed by it. Similar light logic, negative space, composition…whatever calls you from that frame.

When it comes to photography, the technical stuff matters. But what matters most is harder to teach: the thing that makes you stop on a street corner when everyone else keeps walking. The slightly too-long look at something ordinary.

That’s the whole curriculum, really. Learning to take that instinct seriously.

And this spring, we practice!

Let me know if you’re joining me in this practice and how it goes if you do so!

‘til next time!

Emilia

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If you enjoy reading Postmarked! and want to support what I do:

• Leave a like or comment—it really means a lot

• Share this with someone you think might enjoy it

• Follow me on Instagram for more!

And if you’re interested in partnering on a future issue or project, just send me a message at emilia@holaemilia.com. Thank you for being here!

I moved here, almost accidentally, because of my boyfriend (now fiancé).

But spending time in new places will always have a way of teaching us things whether you signed up for the class or not.

These aren’t grand revelations. They’re the the small shifts. The quiet lessons that creep up on you, and one day you realize they’ve become part of who you are.

And after almost four years of living here, Spain has definitely creeped up on me. And I can see it not only in my now-mixed Spanish (always bouncing between Mexican and Spanish expressions!). But on how I view and live life.

There’s definitely a lot to learn from the Spanish, but these are a few of the things I’ve been taking note on:

The Art of Simplicity

In Spain, a great meal is rarely complicated. It’s a piece of fish, a piece of bread, a dash of good olive oil. A tomato rubbed on toast. Jamón sliced impossibly and perfectly thin.

The Spanish don’t dress up their ingredients. They trust them. And this applies way beyond the kitchen.

It’s true in life…and even in style.

Spanish women have an elegance that’s almost entirely understated. Good basics, worn well. Nothing too extra. They trust their “ingredients”, they know exactly who they are, and they walk like they know it.

Rest Is Real Work

There’s a kind of rest that’s just guilt in disguise: the whole time you’re horizontal, your brain is listing everything you should be doing instead.

That’s not what rest looks like here. In Spain, rest is real. It’s built into the day like a meeting you can’t cancel. The notion of the siesta, which is more of an afternoon pause than actual sleep, by the way, isn’t laziness. It’s living with the knowledge that you are a person, not a productivity machine. That your body needs food and shade and stillness before it can give you anything good.

I used to work while I ate. Sometimes I still do if I’m honest. But nowadays, I strive to close my laptop at 2pm and eat like I mean it. I resume my work in the afternoon refreshed and ready to create some more.

Dress for the Season, Not the Weather

This sounds silly, but it’s so real. In Spain, you dress for the season. When it’s autumn, you wear autumn clothes. Not because the thermometer demands it, but because there’s a kind of unspoken collective agreement that the season has arrived and you’re part of it. You’ll see people pulling out their coats when October comes, even if it’s still 22 degrees.

I’m still trying to understand this one, but what it feels like is a ceremony around the anticipation for the changing of the seasons. Each season has a look, a texture, a wardrobe. It marks the year in a way that dressing for the forecast alone never does.

Maybe it’s not about fashion, but a way of being present?

There’s Always Something to Celebrate

In Spain, you don’t need a reason to open the good wine. The fact that it’s Thursday is reason enough. That the figs are finally ripe. That your friend came over. That the week is almost done. That you are, right now, together.

I grew up saving things for special occasions: the fancy candles, the pretty dress, the bottle someone brought from somewhere. The Spanish taught me that the occasion is now. And that waiting for the perfect moment to celebrate is how you end up never celebrating at all.

Stay Long Enough to Belong

Spaniards are loyal to their places. Their bar, their market stall, their Sunday route through the neighborhood. They go back. Consistently, without much fanfare, they go back.

And something happens when you do that: The waiter brings your usual without asking. The lady at your go-to grocery store asks about how you’re doing. The bar downstairs becomes your trusted package receiver.

The city stops being just the place where you live in and becomes community.

This is the quietest lesson, and maybe the most important one: belonging isn’t something you find. It’s a slow burn, something you build over time.

What’s a habit from where you live that’s quietly changed how you move through the world? Let me know in the comments!

‘til next time!

Emilia

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If you enjoy reading Postmarked! and want to support what I do:

• Leave a like or comment—it really means a lot

• Share this with someone you think might enjoy it

• Follow me on Instagram for more!

And if you’re interested in partnering on a future issue or project, just send me a message at emilia@holaemilia.com. Thank you for being here!

I already knew my dad was having a minor medical procedure back home in Mexico, scheduled while I slept, so I reached for my phone the moment I opened my eyes.

My worst fear from the night before had come true.

While being wheeled into the OR, my dad had a heart attack. By the time I woke up, he was stable and conscious. But my heart sank… and stayed there for days.

A couple of interventions later, I’m happy to report that he’s well and back home.

Still, the past two weeks have been a lot. The kind of a lot that makes it hard to think straight and get through the everyday things. And layered on top of the personal, last week’s unrest in Mexico, and now in the Middle East…it’s been heavy.

So today I’m not going to pretend otherwise and share things like lipsticks or books this month. Instead, here are a few things that have been on my mind lately:

On the fact that life actually is short…

Nothing like a scare like this to remind you that it really, truly is.

That things can change in a second. That the phone can ring, or in my case, buzz with a flood of WhatsApp messages, and nothing is the same anymore.

It made me think about bravery. About the things I’ve been putting off, the chances I haven’t taken, the version of myself I keep promising I’ll step into later.

Now that my dad’s safely home and the fog is lifting, I realize this has made me want to go after things more. To stop waiting for the right moment, because the right moment is just a story we tell ourselves.

And maybe most of all, it made me want to slow down and actually enjoy the little things. The coffee in the morning. The walk. The laugh with a friend. It’s too easy to go through life in tunnel vision mode and realize you’re letting it all pass by.

The truth is, as cliché as it sounds, that there is no later. There’s just now.

On Mexico…

Mexico is an incredible country, one that faces many complex and layered issues. And it doesn’t deserve to be reduced to last week’s headlines, or to the actions of a few. As a Mexican who creates travel guides that help women to explore the world safely…I am aware that Mexico is a country you need to know how to navigate. But the fact that some areas were and are affected by these issues doesn’t mean the whole country should get blacklisted,

So, please, don’t cancel Mexico.

If you’re traveling to Mexico or planning to, and you have questions, my inbox is always open!! Reach out in the comments or shoot me an email at emilia@holaemilia.com

On re-writing my relationship with my phone…

I’ve been so engulfed by my phone these past two weeks. Between family news and everything that’s going on around the world…I’ve been glued to my feed, hitting refresh, refresh, refresh. I’ve been going to bed exhausted and waking up still exhausted.

And while I don’t believe in dissociating from what’s going on, our brains were not made to process so many heavy news 24/7,

For my mental health, I’ve been regulating my social media time with an app called Opal. It’s not only helping me be more productive during my work and creative hours, but it’s allowing me to unplug a bit more, especially at night and early in the mornings.

If you’re struggling with this as well, or you just want to work on having a better relationship with your phone, you can check out Opal here.

On surrounding myself with creative people…

Ever since I arrived in Zaragoza, everyone’s been incredibly nice and welcoming. But after a while, I realized I really wanted my own little world. Friends who weren’t my fiancé’s friends. Creative friends who spoke my (metaphorical) language.

It’s taken me a while, but now I have my own little group of friends, fellow creatives who have really enriched my life here. especially as a foreigner. And having friends and a support system, especially these past couple of week, has made all the difference.

If you’re freshly arrived somewhere, my advice for you is this:

Put it out there. Say out loud that you’re looking for friends. When you say things out loud, the Universe has a way of delivering. But you gotta take action too. Be bold, put yourself out there. Join classes. Ask a stranger out for coffee. The group of friends I’ve made partially happened thanks to the fact that I asked a fellow photographer out for coffee.

If these past two weeks taught me anything, it’s that we’re all just doing our best: navigating the personal and the global, the heavy and the mundane, all at once. And somehow, we keep going.

So here’s to that. To keeping going. To being brave. To calling the people we love a little more often. To the ordinary Tuesdays.

Thank you for being here, and for reading. It means more than you know.

‘til next time!

Emilia

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If you enjoy reading Postmarked! and want to support what I do:

• Leave a like or comment—it really means a lot

• Share this with someone you think might enjoy it

• Follow me on Instagram for more!

And if you’re interested in partnering on a future issue or project, just send me a message at emilia@holaemilia.com. Thank you for being here!

Hello friend,

It’s been a while since I’ve hit your inbox with a recipe. To be honest, I’ve been on a bit of an identity roller-coaster lately about what I want Postmarked! to be. Am I a photographer? Am I an artist? Should I share more food when I’m not an actual cook?

But what I know for certain is this: I’m a Mexican living abroad who uses food as a landline home. And today’s postcard is taking us there.

And the best part is that this time I got to bring my friends Pat and Isa along for the ride. For the duration of a gray and rainy morning at least, we filled Isa’s kitchen with the smell of fresh tortillas, the sound of cumbias, and the warmth of Mexico.

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Pat is an amazing cook who shares recipes on Instagram. Last year, we embarked on the mission to learn how to make Pan de Muerto together. That kitchen session sparked an idea: "Why don't we make a series on Mexican recipes?"

So here’s the second installment of our Mexican food series:

Making tortillas from scratch.

Tostadas with ceviche on the coast, flour tortillas filled with machaca burritos on the North, small tacos on the curbs of Mexico City…Tortillas are the common thread that ties Mexican cuisine together.

They’re what bread is to Europeans, what rice is to Asians: the essential, non-negotiable base of nearly every meal. They’re not just used to prepare countless dishes; they also accompany almost everything else.

Soup? Tear off a piece of tortilla and dip it. Eggs? Wrap them in a tortilla. Meat? Use a tortilla to push the last bits onto your fork. There are Mexicans who simply will not eat a meal, any meal, without tortillas within arm’s reach.

Fresh tortillas are bought daily from tortillerías: small neighborhood shops dedicated exclusively to making and selling tortillas. But obviously, you can’t find that here. And while, sure, you can find good tortillas in Spain (like these ones), there’s nothing in the world like a freshly made tortilla.

So since I live in Zaragoza, I’ve really polished my tortilla-making skills and picked up a few tricks along the way (even Enrique, my fiancé, is a seasoned pro by now).

And today I'm passing on that wisdom to you:

What you need:

For regular or blue tortillas…

• Corn flour…white or blue. But ideally, not regular cornmeal, but nixtamalized corn flour (treated with lime to unlock its flavor and pliability). Also, I don’t love yellow corn, as it’s sweeter. If you’re in the US, you can find Masienda in different locations. Or you can look for Maseca at your local Mexican store.

• A tortilla press. You can find online, or again…at your local Mexican store.

• Baking paper, or a thin plastic bag.

• Lukewarm water.

• A non-stick pan.

• Salt

• Time…Because this will take a while! But you’ll have fun with the process.

For pink tortillas…

• White corn flour

• Dried Jamaica (hibiscus) flowers. Ps. Learn more about Jamaica here.

The Process

Step One: Mix the flour with lukewarm (it’s important water isn't too cold or too hot) and a pinch of salt until it comes together into a soft dough.

The standard ratio is 2 cups of flour and 1 1/2 of water. But I usually end up adjust according of how I see and feel the masa. Too dry and it’ll crack when you press it. Too wet and it’ll stick to everything.

The ideal consistency is that your masa feels like Play-Doh. It should that hold together without cracking when you press it.

Step Two: Once you have your masa, proceed to make ping pong-sized balls. Then set aside.

Step Three: Heat a non-stick pan and line your press with baking paper or plastic (I like using biodegradable plastic bags because I find the masa sticks way less).

Step Four: Place your ball in the center of the lower plate, close, and press. Make sure your tortilla isn’t too thick, or too thin. Aim for a 15cm / 6-inch diameter and a thickness around 2-3mm or 1/8 in.

Step Five: Place on the hot pan, and what I usually do is this:

• Wait for 30 seconds, then flip.

• With a spatula, pat the outer rim of the tortilla gently, to help create a pocket of air in the center.

• After 20-30 seconds, flip again.

• And now, your tortilla should puff. Wait 20 secs, flip again…

• Then another 20 secs, and remove from the pan…And there you go!

If your tortilla doesn’t puff, don’t worry, it’ll still be delicious. But here’s what it might mean:

• The dough is too thick: Thicker tortillas have a harder time trapping steam between layers, so they stay flat.

• The heat isn’t high enough: The tortilla needs intense, immediate heat to create steam quickly. If the pan is too cool, moisture escapes slowly instead of puffing the layers apart.

• Not enough moisture in the dough: If the masa was on the dry side, there’s less steam to create that puff.

• You’re flipping too early or too late: The first side needs to set just enough to create a skin before you flip. Flip too soon. and it’s underdeveloped; too late, and it’s already released its steam.

The puff is a sign you’ve nailed the technique, but even flat tortillas that are cooked through with those charred spots will be delicious. The puff is more about texture, a puffed tortilla tends to be slightly lighter and more layered.

So really, what you need the most is patience and practice, practice, practice.

To make pink tortillas…

• Add hot water to dried hibiscus flowers and let steep for 30 min. The more concentrated, the more color you'll have.

• Repeate the process above to make the masa, but replace water for the hibiscus concentrate. Blend until you have a uniform color. And that's it!

(If you can't find hibiscus, you can also use beets.)

Once we had our tortillas, we made some quesadillas and guacamole. But next time we’re set on making tortillas once again to transform them into chilaquiles - a Mexican breakfast staple that, in my opinion, is the best thing Mexicans have ever invented. Make sure to subscribe if you haven't already for that recipe! ♡

Let me know if you end up making tortillas and how it goes…

‘til next time!

Emilia

Ps. This is my go-to kitchen soundtrack :)

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I celebrated my birthday just a few weeks ago, and somehow that already feels like it happened in another life. How does January feel so long if the days are short?

There’s something deeply counterintuitive about how we’re expected to start the year: leap into new habits, new versions of ourselves, ready to move, ready to go…right in the dead of winter.

When everything outside feels frozen. When life is quieter, slower, suspended.

January isn’t a beginning… it’s limbo.

After a month in sunny, colorful Mexico, I came home to gray skies and rain, and it took me a couple of weeks to find my rhythm again here in Spain. To get back into my routine, my stride, my body clock. January asked me for patience and for letting things come back to their usual rhythm in their own time.

I’ve never been someone to pay much attention to Chinese astrology, but this year it’s been everywhere. The Year of the Snake ending…changes, endings, both quiet and loud ones. The big shed. And 2025 absolutely felt like one huge shed.

Thankfully, as February kicks in, so does the so-called Year of the Horse. A year of momentum, energy, and fire. And whether it’s symbolic or purely psychological…I can feel that subtle shift approaching. The first signs of thaw. The feeling that energy is starting to shift. And I maaan, what a relief.

I can’t wait for old and new ideas to sprout, and for things to feel less up in the air.

I like to think that if January were a sound, it’d be that of an orchestra tuning. Anticipation filling the room. The Instruments warming up, slightly off-key but hauntingly beautiful, announcing what’s to come.

And February? February is when the orchestra finally begins to play.

So if, like me, you’ve been still feeling foggy, or suspended in time…Hang in there. Things are still tuning. The orchestra will begin shortly.

Ok, enough of my ramblings, here are a few of my obsessions and recommendations from January!

Makeup: Violette’s Syrah Fumé

I love a good red lipstick. And ever since my friend Isa introduced me to this one, it’s been game over: Violette FR’s Plume Lip in Syrah Fumé. I got it over Christmas, and I pretty much haven’t used another lipstick since. It’s velvety, lasts forever, and the color is this smoky, soft red that works just as well during the day as it does at night. It’s the perfect amount of lip drama. I genuinely think I’ll be wearing this lipstick forever.

Music: Reliquia - Rosalia

I’ll confess… I was never that into Rosalía. Yep, even living in Spain, where, believe it or not, she’s literally in the study materials for your citizenship test. But her last album? Blew my mind. Some of it still feels a little abstract for me, but a few songs have been on repeat since December. Reliquia especially…this song is a freaking work of art.

Books: Hamnet

Yes, I know Hamnet is everywhere right now because of the movie. I finished the book earlier this month—I wanted to read it before the film came out here in Spain—and I have mixed feelings.

The movie is visually stunning, with incredible performances, but it left me wanting more. Maggie O’Farrell’s writing is so deeply sensory, so interior, that the film just didn’t fully translate that texture (in my very humble opinion).

That said, the movie is still very much worth watching. But if you’re feeling drawn to the book, do read it. You won’t regret it.

Bajío: Recipes & Wanderings Through Mexico’s Heartland

Some friends gifted me the fourth installment of Belmond and Apartamento’s collaboration cookbook, this one focused on Mexico, and it’s stunning. Perfect timing, too. I had just arrived back at my Spanish home from my Mexican one, still completely drenched in homesickness. The images by Heather Sten are beautiful, and I just know I’ll be diving into it every time homesickness makes an appearance. You can the book here.

Places: Mexico City

The Mexican nostalgia has hit me hard this year. But more than that, it’s been the Mexican FOMO. I loved spending time in Mexico City this holiday season a little too much. It’s such an exciting place, so alive, so colorful, always something going on…it’s a city that feeds your creativity ceaselessly. And returning home has felt, well….quiet. If you haven’t been, I have no idea what you’re waiting for. Book your trip asap. And get our guide while you’re at it.

— ‘til next time!

Emilia

Website | Instagram | TikTok | Pinterest | Travel Guides

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• Leave a like or comment—it really means a lot

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And if you’re interested in partnering on a future issue or project, just send me a message at emilia@holaemilia.com. Thank you for being here!

Having two homes is incredible.

It’s a privilege I don’t take lightly. But it also means your heart is permanently divided in two.

Your life here.
Your life there.

And for some reason, this year, it’s been particularly hard leaving my Mexican world behind. The colors, the rhythms, the way everything feels just…natural.

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I’ll be honest: moving somewhere new is one of the most exciting, formative, incredible things you can do. But it’s not for the faint of heart. Neither is choosing a life that spans borders, time zones, and identities.

It takes constantly translating yourself, all while learning a whole new culture at the same time. The pace, the jokes, the references…Living abroad means asking oh-so-many questions every day.

But there’s also so much beauty in living abroad. It sharpens your senses. Curiosity replaces autopilot. Distance also gives you perspective; it teaches you what you miss and what to never take for granted again.

And you know what I’ve learned over the years?

That home isn’t a place. It’s something you practice daily.

And something you can practice anywhere.

Here are a few small ways, and some big ones, I’ve picked up along the way to create a sense of home wherever I am. In a new apartment, a new city, or even while traveling solo. I hope they help you too. ♡

1. Carry rituals with you

Rituals are anchors. They tell your body: you’re safe, you’re grounded, this is familiar.

For me, it’s coffee and journaling in the morning. No matter the country, no matter the view outside the window, that first cup and those first pages are mine.

But yours can be anything: It can be your nighttime skincare routine—the same order, the same products, all while you watch an episode of your favorite show. Or it can be waking up to your favorite song every day. Going for a walk or a run. Playing a sport…

When so much around you is changing, rituals become a kind of portable stability.

2. Smells that transport you

I spray Dr Teal’s Sleep Spray on my pillow every night, and now the smell of lavender and chamomile makes me feel immediately at home.

Smell bypasses logic and goes straight to the nervous system. One breath can take you somewhere else entirely. So you can use smell to help you feel cozy and grounded: A candle you’ve carried across continents. A soap or a perfume that reminds you of a specific time in your life. A certain type of incense to start your mornings.

Scent is memory’s fastest shortcut, and one of the easiest ways to feel at home.

3. Photos and postcards

Back in 2020, when I was living in Bali, I moved to a new place almost every month. Every time, the first things I unpacked were photos and postcards I could put up somewhere, even if it was just propped on my desk.

Family. Friends. Faces that made me feel surrounded by the people I love.

No matter how temporary the space, those images made it mine. Home isn’t always about where you are. Sometimes it’s about who you carry with you.

4. Cooking

If you’ve been around for a while or follow me on Instagram, you know my love for cooking is deeply tied to travel.

I wrote about this last year in Travel Is a State of Mind, and it’s still true: the kitchen can be an incredible portal to different places. And in my life here in Spain, cooking Mexican food is often a portal to feeling like I’m actually there.

5. Create your own world

I moved to Zaragoza because that’s where my boyfriend lived. I was lucky: I wasn’t tethered to any one place, which meant I could choose to move here so we could build a life together. And from the beginning, everyone I met here was always welcoming, kind, and open.

I was also incredibly fortunate that when I arrived, one of my friends from home was already living here. A friend I’ve known since I was 13. She became my safety net beyond my relationship, a piece of home we can always turn to.

But still, I wanted my own world. One that didn’t orbit my boyfriend’s life or my friend’s existing circles. I wanted my tribe. Girlfriends I could call my own.

Making friends in your 30s, especially in a new country where you’re not going into an office or a classroom, can be hard.

It requires effort, courage, and a willingness to be uncomfortable. You have to make an active effort to put yourself in situations where you can meet people.

Join local communities. Sign up for classes and workshops. Say hello to people, invite someone for coffee. Say out loud that you’re calling out for new friends. The Universe listens.

When you live between places, you can’t rely on geography to make you feel whole. You have to become the constant.

In the end, home isn’t something you arrive at once and for all.
It’s something you build again and again through small, daily moments: your inner world, your routines, your books, your friends, your plans.

Over time. Slowly. Steadily.

And one day, you’ll wake up and realize: you’re home, no matter where you are.

— ‘til next time!

Emilia

Website | Instagram | TikTok | Pinterest | Travel Guides

Previously on Postmarked!

It’s been a while, life got a bit hectic the last two months of 2025. But I’m back for a fresh new year with Postmarked!

I’m writing this on my birthday, which also happens to be my last day in Mexico for a while. Tomorrow I’m heading back to Spain—half excited about going home, half heart-wrenched about leaving home.

I absolutely love living in Zaragoza. Europe is beautiful. Ornate buildings, ancient churches, quiet elegance, well-kept parks filled with fountains and flowers, a quality of life that wraps my days in peace.

But for me, there’s always something missing.

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And every time I land in Mexico, it hits me almost immediately:

Ahhh. This is what I’ve been missing.

It’s the color.

But not just the literal color: the colorful facades, the bustling markets, the streets that know nothing about the concept of “neutral”.

The colorful chaos of Mexico.

How nothing ever happens quietly. How life spills out onto the streets, how everyone is ready to smile and say “buenos días” or how a señora calls you “mi amor” without even knowing your name. How colors don’t ask for permission (who cares about colors matching?). How hand-painted signage still remains. How it can feel exhausting and exhilarating at the same time.

These past few weeks I’ve been romancing my own country, and my own culture. Falling in love with it all over again, with fresh eyes and comforted heart.

And no, this isn’t a naive love letter. Not everything in Mexico is romantic, but I’m not writing this to unpack the politics, the complexities, the daily heaviness this country carries.

Mexico lives with open wounds. It always has. And that reality shaped us.

Somewhere along the way, we developed some kind of magic powers: an alchemic instinct to transform pain into something that protects us. To transform pain into a talisman that heals, in Frida Kahlo’s words.

Mexicans have an almost supernatural ability to enjoy life, no matter what life looks like.

To cast jokes as if they were healing spells. To fill silence with laughter. To season even the bleakest moments with humor, warmth, and music. To dance even when the song is over.

Joy is our secret ingredient.

Like the salsa we add to any taco, if there’s one thing us Mexicans are good at, it’s adding spice to life. No matter how hard, how stressful, how crazy things get.

Color, music, noise, celebration are an armor worn against the battle of daily life. Even death becomes something we sit with, decorate, honor, and sing to.

Mexico is extra. Mexico is flamboyant. Mexico is irreverent. Mexico refuses to be quiet. And I wouldn’t have it any other way.

So here I am, sitting with the impossible question:

How do I pack all of this?

How do I fold color and chaos into a suitcase?

How do I bring it back with me?

How do I let my Spanish life— so beautiful, calm, and collected—make room for more Mexican spice?

I don’t have the answer yet.

But I know this: wherever I live, I don’t want to lose that instinct to add spice. To choose joy as an act of defiance.

To meet life, no matter how messy, painful, or how magnificent with color first.

Now I’m off to celebrate the rest of my birthday, and hopefully find way to pack a bit more of Mexico into my suitcase.

— ‘til next time!

Emilia

Website | Instagram | TikTok | Pinterest | Travel Guides

P.S. If Mexico City has ever called to you, or if you want to experience some of this color for yourself, we poured a lot of love into our Mexico City Travel Guide. It’s equal parts practical and poetic, designed to help you wander and explore safely and with intention. You can find it here.

Previously on Postmarked!

Día de Muertos, or Day of the Dead, is one of my favorite traditions. I feel it captures something deeply essential about who we are as Mexicans: the way we celebrate life rather than mourn death, how we manage to find humor in everything, and the importance we place on family and community. So being far from home at this time of year always stirs a certain ache.

Beyond setting up my altar, I decided to learn how to bake pan de muerto, as a way to bring another piece of that tradition into my life here in Spain.

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So I teamed up with my friend Pat. She’s an amazing cook and she shares my passion for the crossover between food and culture. We spent and entire day figuring out this recipe and swapping stories about Mexican and Spanish traditions. By the end of the day, our pan de muerto was coming out of the oven perfectly golden brown, and the kitchen smelled like sugar and orange zest.

As everything related to the Day of the Dead, Pan the muerto is also full of meaning. From the ingredients to the shape. The round base represents the circle of life, the little ball on top symbolizes the soul, and the crossed “bones” stand for the four directions, guiding spirits back home.

The process is fun, but it takes time and patience. But at the end of the day, it feels extra special to share this bread with loved ones because after all, it’s something we make to rember those who came before us. Here’s the recipe if you want to join along and dip your toes into this lovely Mexican tradition.

Ingredients (for 1 large loaf or approx. 10 individual ones)

• 500 g all-purpose flour (or bread flour)

• 10 g instant dry yeast (or 25 g fresh yeast)

• 120 g sugar

• ½ tsp salt

• 4 eggs

• 120 ml warm milk (use about 50 ml to activate the yeast)

• 1½ tsp orange blossom water (agua de azahar)

• Zest of 1 large orange

• 150 g unsalted butter, at room temperature (soft, not melted)

• Extra melted butter, for brushing

• Sugar, for sprinkling

The Process…

1. Activate the yeast:

   Mix the yeast with 50 ml of the warm milk and a teaspoon of sugar. Let it sit for about 10 minutes, until it starts to foam.

2. Make the dough:

   First, sift the flour. In a large bowl, combine flour, remaining sugar, salt, orange zest, and orange blossom water. Add the eggs and the activated yeast mixture. Gradually pour in the remaining milk and start mixing until it forms a rough dough.

3. Add the butter:

   Incorporate the soft butter little by little while kneading. The dough will be sticky at first, but keep going — after 20 minutes of kneading (or 12–15 minutes in a stand mixer), it should become smooth, elastic, and slightly glossy.

   
   Note: This was the trickiest part. Hand kneading was taking forever, and we ended up doing it in Pat’s kneader.

4. First rise:

   Shape the dough into a ball, place it in a greased bowl, cover it with a clean cloth, and let it rise for 1½ to 2 hours, or until it doubles in size.

   

5. Shape your loaves:

   Set aside a small piece of dough (about the size of an orange) for the decorative “bones” and center ball.

   Shape the rest into small-to-medium-sized balls (between 50g-70g of dough per ball)

   Roll the reserved dough into four thin strips and one small ball, like a button. Use your fingers to create dents in the thin strips to create “bones”. Lay the “bones” in a crisscross pattern over the top and place the small ball in the center.

6. Second rise:

   Cover again and let rise for another 20-30 min. until visibly puffy.

7. Bake:

   Preheat your oven to 180°C / 350°F. Brush your loaves with egg or butter before putting them into the oven. Bake for 20-25 min, until golden brown and the bottom sounds hollow when tapped.

8. Finish:

   Fill a bowl that’s big enough to fit your loaves with sugar. Brush the warm bread with melted butter and dip to cover the upper side with sugar.

Have you ever tried pan de muerto before?
Let me know if the comments!

— ‘til next time!

Emilia

Website | Instagram | TikTok | Pinterest | Travel Guides

Previously on Postmarked!

And it makes me want to be there so bad because here, there are no cempasúchil flowers filling the streets, no bakeries overflowing with pan de muerto, and no altars brightening every storefront. So last year, I decided to bring the tradition into my Spanish home.

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📷 Spanish photographer Pia Riverola has an incredible series of photographs surrounding how Mexico preps for the Day of the Dead

In Mexican tradition, Día de los Muertos (November 2nd) is the time when the veil between worlds grows thin. It’s believed that, for a couple of nights, the spirits of our loved ones can return to visit.

An altar, or ofrenda, is how we welcome them back. It’s a space to remember, to invite their presence for a little while, and to guide them on their journey home.

Everything on the altar carries meaning: candles to light the way, cempasúchil flowers to guide them, salt for purification, food for the road, and personal items so they feel invited and remembered.

It’s a beautiful tradition that celebrates life instead of mourning death. And even from across the ocean, it connects me to my family, to my culture, and to where I come from.

This year, I thought I’d share what an altar really is (beyond just a pretty Instagram backdrop) and how you can set up one yourself.

But wait…isn’t inviting non-Mexicans to take part in this basically cultural appropriation?

Here’s my take.

A few years ago, an American friend messaged me with a question. Her family had always spent a lot of time in Mexico, and Día de Muertos had become her father’s favorite time of year. After he passed, the holiday took on a whole new meaning for them.

And after her dad passed away a few years ago, she wanted to set up an altar in his honor and host a small dinner to share this adopted tradition with friends. But as soon as she mentioned it, she started getting messages from people saying what she was doing was cultural appropriation.

So she texted me, asking for a Mexican’s opinion.

Here’s what I told her:

Culture, to me, is meant to be shared. Every culture we know today exists because of exchange and influence. I think what matters most is the intention behind it—approaching it with curiosity, respect, and genuine appreciation instead of performance.

Dressing up as a Catrina (the colorful skull-like makeup) for Halloween without knowing what she represents? Big no. But truly learning about and taking part in a tradition that honors our ancestors? That’s a yes in my book.

My own altar is already a blended one, with pieces for my Mexican departed loved ones and my boyfriend’s Spanish ones. He’s not Mexican, but he’s grown to love this tradition and looks forward to it now.

So consider this your blessing—from a Mexican—to set up your own Day of the Dead altar at home. Here’s how.

How To Set Up Your Day of the Dead Ofrenda:

Find a small spot in your home where you can build it. Traditional altars can be big and elaborate, but a simple corner is enough. What matters most is taking a quiet moment to remember and honor those who came before us.

Altars traditionally have levels—seven in the most symbolic versions—but you can keep it simple with two or three. The levels represent the different steps in the journey back from the afterlife.

Our altar has three levels, and we’ve added different traditional elements, like candles, papel picado (cut-out paper flags), food and drinks, and items our grandparents loved and enjoyed.

Here are some of the elements altars usually have and what they represent:

• Water: Purity, and refreshment for the soul after its journey.

• Salt: Protection and purification during the passage between worlds.

• Candles: To light the way back from the afterlife.

• Cempasúchil: Their color and scent form a path for the departed. They’re not exactly the same, but marigolds will do!

• Papel Picado: The colorful paper cutouts often seen across Mexico; their patterns allow the soul to “enter” the altar.

• Food & Drink: For sustenance on their journey—add seasonal fruit, sweets, or things they loved.

• Pan de Muerto: The traditional sweet bread that symbolizes the life–death cycle; the circular top represents the skull.

• Personal Objects: Things that belonged to them or reflect what they enjoyed. On our altar, we have a deck of playing cards for my boyfriend’s grandparents, books for my grandma, and watercolors for my other grandmother, etc.

• Incense or Copal: Cleanses the space and keeps away unwelcome spirits.

I know it can be hard to find traditional Mexican elements abroad, but check your local Mexican store—there’s usually something. And even if you can’t, you can still play with the colors and their meanings:

• Orange & Yellow: The color of marigolds—representing the sun and guiding light.

• White: Purity, hope, and renewal.

• Purple: Mourning, spirituality, and remembrance.

• Pink: Celebration and affection.

• Red: Life, vitality, and the blood that connects us.

• Black: The mystery of death and transformation.

One last thing: there’s a growing trend of “aesthetic ofrendas” making the rounds on social media this year. And while they’re pretty, they’re totally missing the point. Mexico is all about color, and so is this tradition.

If you end up setting up an altar home, please let me know or send me a pic! I would love to see how you join in this beloved tradition.

Ps. If you haven’t already, do watch Disney’s Coco. When the news first broke out that Disney was going to make a Day of the Dead movie, we had a collective heart attack. But thankfully, the movie they made isn’t just wonderful, it’s completely accurate and respectful of Mexican culture. Now you know what to watch next weekend!

— ‘til next time!

Emilia

Website | Instagram | TikTok | Pinterest | Travel Guides

Previously on Postmarked!

I’ve been a little obsessed lately with the collective excitement around Fall’s arrival. In times as crazy as the ones we’re living, celebrating the small things feels like an act of sanity.

And maybe that’s what makes Fall so magical: it’s all about the little things —

The morning golden light.
The softness of sweater weather.
The smell of soup simmering on the stove.
Warming chilly hands with a hot cup of tea.
Lighting a candle just because.

No pomp, no circumstance…Just the quiet and easy comfort of curling up with a blanket, a good book, and letting the world slow down for a while.

And because I love creating soundtracks for eeeeeverything in life, I’ve whipped up a second volume for Moonlight Radio! A curated playlist for Fall…a mix that’s cozy, dreamy, a little jazzy, a little hopeful.

Pour yourself something warm, press play, and enjoy.
I hope this mix is a good companion to the season. 🍁

— ‘til next time!

Emilia

Website | Instagram | TikTok | Pinterest | Travel Guides

Previously on Postmarked!

It’s taken me a few extra days to send you a new postcard. Things have been a little busy around here lately…exciting things are happening behind the scenes at The Solo Girl’s Travel Guide (and hopefully I can tell you all about it soon!).

But in the meantime, today I finally carved out some time to sit down with you and send another postcard from the kitchen.

I wasn’t really planning on Postmarked! being so food-centric, but I keep circling back to how much food and travel overlap for me. The flavors, the smells, the little rituals—food is such a big part of how and why I travel, and how I stay connected to those travels when I’m home…which brings me to today’s topic:

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Let me begin by saying that I hate throwing out food. Seriously, few things put me in a sour mood like tossing something that’s gone bad.

And hibiscus — Jamaica, as we call it in Mexico — is one of those ingredients I’m always trying to squeeze the life out of. The flowers are usually boiled to make “agua fresca” (a cold hibiscus infusion or tea), and then discarded.

But there is so much goodness in them still that it breaks my heart not using them further! So my usual trick is a quick stir-fry with garlic to tuck into quesadillas (add a pinch of salt to your quesadillas always. Thank me later!)

But lately I’ve been in a jam-making mood, after a couple of kitchen sessions preserving this year’s figs and berries. So this weekend, as I brewed some Jamaica to alleviate some PMS-fueled inflammation, I thought: why not turn the leftover flowers into jam?

Jamaica is one of those ingredients I grew up taking for granted. It was just… there. You’d come home from school, open the fridge, and more often than not the “agua fresca” of the day was Jamaica. At your favorite taco stand, same story: agua del día, Jamaica. At my grandma’s house there was a permanent jar filled with Jamaica in the fridge. Intense, sour, no sugar whatsoever. Grown-up Jamaica, my sister, my cousin, and I called it.

Living in Spain, Jamaica is one of those things I sometimes get a random hankering for. And of course, living on the other side of the Atlantic…I’ve stopped taking it for granted. Jamaica isn’t just there anymore. It’s something I purposefully go buy at my go-to locutorio (immigrant-owned convenience stores where you can usually find all kinds of foreign products) and that I boil and brew with so much love and intention. It went from being an everyday ingredient to a sweet-and-tart special treat that connects me to home.

Because Jamaica is as Mexican as tortillas. Right?

Except…*gasp*… It’s not Mexican at all.
And it wasn’t until this year that I found from where this drink is really from.

This past February, I visited Egypt for the first time. We landed in Luxor at night, and as we boarded our ship on the banks of the Nile, we were handed a welcome drink. One sip and I knew the taste instantly.

“This is hibiscus,” I said.

“Yes,” our guide replied, unbothered, “this is hibiscus.”

I was as excited as a kid on Christmas morning. What was this little piece of Mexico doing in Egypt?

Turns out hibiscus flowers are native to Sudan, Egypt’s southern neighbor, from where they traveled up the Nile corridor through Egypt, and where it has been sipped for millennia. Known as karkadeh, pharaohs drank it to endure the desert heat. As time passed, it became part of the country’s identity: an everyday drink found at homes, cafes, and street stalls, served either hot or cold.

So how did it end up on the other side of the world, becoming part of Mexico’s identity as well?

From Africa, hibiscus traveled east and was cultivated in parts of Asia. Then, during the Spanish colonial era, the Manila–Acapulco galleon, the “Nao de China”, transported plants, seeds, textiles, and spices across the Pacific into La Nueva España (New Spain). Hibiscus likely came aboard, disembarking in Mexico and taking root in its soil. After centuries of being grown, cooked with, and passed down, it just lost its “foreign” label along the way.

And over time, it became so embedded in daily life that it’s now indistinguishable from Mexican gastronomy. Chances are, if you go to a Mexican restaurant anywhere in the world, you’ll find “agua de Jamaica” on the menu.

Hibiscus became Mexican the way tomatoes became Italian: so deeply adopted into the food culture that nobody questions it.

And now, centuries later, here I am boiling down the leftover flowers from a pitcher of agua de Jamaica, turning them into jam. Pondering the millenary life of this flower — how it went from being sipped by pharaohs in Ancient Egypt, to taquerías and family kitchens all across Mexico.

I find it marvelous how two cultures, oceans apart, can both be convinced hibiscus is part of who they are. Being served Jamaica or Kardakeh in Egypt made me feel like Egyptians and I were already friends, as if we belonged to a secret club that was on to some kind of secret the rest of the world didn’t know.

And isn’t that the magic of travel?
Finding the little things that connect us with others, as different and distant as our cultures might be.

Now, let’s get to that jam, shall we?

Jamaica Jam

Ingredients…

• 2 cups rehydrated hibiscus petals (the leftover from making agua de Jamaica, squeezed but still moist).

• 1–1 ½ cups sugar (to taste)

• 1 cup of the Jamaica concentrate we will brew.

• 1 apple or 1 peach / apricot (to add pectin to the mix)

• Chia seeds (to taste)

• Juice of 1 lime (or half a lemon)

• Optional: a cinnamon stick, ginger, or even a splash of mezcal for a smoky note (I’m so trying that next time).

How to make it…

1. First, make your “agua fresca”. Bring the water to a boil first, then add the dried hibiscus petals and let them steep for 10–15 minutes until the water turns deep red. Strain and keep the concentrate in a pitcher or a bottle. You can water it down and drink it with ice, or even use it to make a cocktail or mocktail.

2. Press the remaining flowers well to remove excess liquid. Chop them finely so they break down easier.

3. In a saucepan, combine hibiscus petals, the 1 cup of concentrate, sugar, and the grated apple or apricot. Stir over medium heat until the sugar dissolves.

4. Let it simmer! Let it cook on very low heat, stirring now and then, until it thickens. Here’s the tricky part: since we’re working with flowers rather than fruit, you won’t get that classic jammy, sticky texture. I let mine go for about two hours, and added a spoonful of chia seeds because they swell up and help give it that ‘jam-like’ feel.

5. Finish: Add lime juice and any spices or extras you like. Taste and adjust sweetness/acidity.

6. Jar it: Spoon into clean jars. It will keep for about 2 weeks in the fridge, or longer if you sterilize and seal properly.

The result is a deep crimson, tart-sweet, chunky jam that is perfect on toast, paired with cheese, mixed with olive oil to make a vinaigrette, or even as a sauce or topping for a taco.

— ‘til next time!

Emilia

Website | Instagram | TikTok | Pinterest | Travel Guides

Previously on Postmarked!

Anyway, all this to say that, it’s now September, and September means it’s officially Fall, right? Right?!

I swear, the second the air cools just a little, my brain immediately goes into Fall mode. I immediately switch my go-to iced lattes and summer espresso tonics for a warm, foamy flat white. Ahhh that sip of the first flat white of the season.

I love Fall (in case it wasn’t obvious by now), and I had always wanted to live somewhere where the seasons were visible and palpable. Opposed to growing up on the Mexican Pacific Coast, where seasons go from unbearably hot and humid to actually nice to sit outside and maybe, just maybe, put on a light sweater. Besides, Autumn falls in the stickiest moments in the calendar, right during hurricane season, so we never had any of this cozy, wrap-yourself-in-a-sweater-while-having-a-warm-drink kind of magic.

But here, Fall is a thing. The leaves are beginning to fall from the trees. There’s a hint of a crisp chill in the morning air. And everyone is excited about the season changing and what that means. Escapades to yellow-and-orange country scenes. Halloween movie marathons. Chats over chai lattes while wearing cozy sweaters. Ok, maybe not everyone, but at least my friends and I are.

It’s the most romantic season of them all, if you ask me. Or at least the best one to romanticize your life. Which is exactly why I love starting it off with…a moodboard!

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A Moodboard for Fall

If you were around for the first iterations of Postmarked!, you already know I have a soft spot for moodboards. Back when I worked as a Brand Designer, creating a first moodboard was always my favorite part of the process: it set the tone, the feeling, and the vibes of the whole world we were about to build.

These days, seasonal or thematic moodboards might not serve such a “practical” purpose, but I still love making them as a little ritual to mentally step into a new season. It’s about the aesthetics, of course, but also about the intention. Like opening a tiny portal that helps you close one chapter and ease into the next.

And with every moodboard, as you assemble them, themes become inevitably visible. Like threads you can pull to unravel to see where they may take you. For this season, these are the themes I’m exploring:

Themes for Fall

🍁 Transitions and Thresholds
Fall is an “in-between” — between light and dark, summer and winter, life and death. I don’t know about you, but there are big changes lining up in my life. It’s shaping up to be a true harvest season and a threshold for exciting things ahead. Use this season as an invitation, a door creaking open into new worlds and possibilities.

🍁 Witchy…but Grounded
Kitchen spells, simmer pots, and rituals that bring magic into the everyday—without even leaving home. Lean into practical magic and make the return to your routine anything but boring.

🍁 Ancestral Autumn
With Día de Muertos, Samhain, and other ancestral festivals, fall is a season of remembrance and connecting with those who came before us. It’s a time for altars, marigolds, candles, family heirlooms, and offerings. I’m looking forward to baking some pan de muerto and building an altar for the Day of the Dead this year (I promise to share both!).

🍁 Still but Still Moving
As soon as Fall hits, everything slows down after the summer frenzy. But underneath the quiet, this season is quietly productive. It’s a time of balance: being still, yet still moving forward. Find your balance in the in-between.

These themes are invitations for you to explore this season. Pick the ones that resonate with you, or explore your own. But I hope these inspire your own rituals this season.

Little things to celebrate the arrival of Fall…

And to soak up all the seasonal excitement, here’s a mini guide of little ways to welcome Fall…

• Create your own Fall moodboard: What’s the vibe you’re calling in this season? Collect textures, colors, outfits, quotes…whatever speaks to you. Light a candle, set an intention for the season, and make your moodboard to call it in.

• Host an at-home café: I’ve been a little obsessed with this idea ever since I saw on TikTok turn her apartment into a coffee shop for her friends. She even started a monthly “Saturday Café” where everyone comes over for lattes and pastries, and I haven’t been able to get this idea out of my head. I’ve been daydreaming about doing this —setting up a little menu, maybe baking something seasonal, lighting a candle or two—and I feel like Fall might be the perfect season to finally try it.

• Make a movie bucket-list: Season classics like "It’s The Great Pumpkin, Charlie Brown”, “Practical Magic”, “You’ve Got Mail”, “Hocus Pocus”…Pull your blankets out of storage and snuggle up on the couch for a cozy movie night.

• Get into the witchy spirit in the kitchen: With Halloween and Samhain (basically the witches’ New Year) crowning the season, this is the witchiest time of the year. And nothing makes me feel more like a witch than stirring a pot of soup on the stove. Fall flavors and ingredients just feel so magical: pumpkin, squash, apples, cinnamon sprinkled on everything. It’s time to let that inner child, the one who always dreamed of being a witch, come out and play.

• Curate your perfect Fall playlist: Or lean on mine (coming very soon) if you want instant inspiration for your autumn soundtrack.

• Choose a new scent for yourself or your home: Candles, perfumes, or essential oils that capture the season’s warmth and mystery. Scents like cedarwood, sandalwood, nutmeg, amber, sage…

• Candlelit evenings: As the sun starts to set earlier each day, it’s time to stock your favorite candles and turn your home into a snug retreat.

I hope this little celebration of Fall sparks some inspiration for your season, and I’d love to hear what you’re looking forward to this Fall.
Any rituals I should try?
Movies to add to the list?
Candles you’re obsessed with?
Fall getaways I should check out?
Let me know!

— ‘til next time!

Emilia

Website | Instagram | TikTok | Pinterest | Travel Guides

Previously on Postmarked!

Is it just me, or did August swoosh by in a blur? One moment it felt like August stretched in front of me in all its hazy-lazy summer days glory….and now, well, September is tomorrow. Don’t get me wrong, I’m so excited for Fall, but, like I shared on my last post, a little nostalgia for the ending of summer is inevitable.

So, before we embrace Fall fully, let’s wrap up this season with this month’s R.E.P.O.R.T.

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Reading: Kitchen Confidential
by Anthony Bourdain Book

I’ve watched more Anthony Bourdain episodes than I can count. Anytime I’m planning a trip, I’ll look up whatever adventure he had there. No Reservations, Parts Unknown, whatever I can find. Going to Egypt? I had to know what he ate on the streets of Cairo. Going to Sri Lanka? His conversations with locals provided incredible context about the country we were about to visit.

And recently, not knowing what to play on Netflix, the boyfriend and I stumbled upon Roadrunner, the posthumous documentary about him from 2021. And watching it made me realize that for all the hours I’ve spent with him on screen, I’d never actually cracked open his books! So, I decided to start with: Kitchen Confidential: Adventures in the Culinary Underbelly.

His first incursion in non-fiction dives into candid stories of his beginnings as a chef, his time in the CIA (no, no that CIA), and brutal honesty about the behind-the-scenes of the culinary world. It’s funny, it’s irreverent, it’s deep and lighthearted at the same time.

I’m halfway through and I’m enjoying it immensely. His words truly feel like sitting across from him at a bar, sharing beers, messy stories — and it kinda leaves you with a sense of encouragement to be as unapologetic as you can be. If you love food and spending time in the kitchen and haven’t read Kitchen Confidential, don’t waste another second.

Eating: Raw fish galore!

With September’s arrival, I’m glad to feel life slowly drifting back into rhythm and my usual routine. The “back-to-school” vibes are floating in the air, and it’s put me in such a homey-cozy mood. And for me, that means being in a cooking mood.

I’m having fun planning meals and gathering kitchen inspiration for fall, but before I jump into soups and all the cozy recipes and spices, I realized I barely made any ceviche this summer. And for me, a coastal girl from Mexico, that’s just unforgivable!!! So, as a last little ode to the remainder of summer, I’ve decided to squeeze in as much ceviche, poke, and raw dishes as possible before autumn fully settles in.

Playing: The soundtrack to “Manhattan”

A couple of weeks ago, I visited an antiques market in France with some friends. And as always, my radar was tuned to records. I love going through dusty crates in search of a gem (earlier this year, I found Pink Floyd’s Wish You Were Here in pristine conditions at the local market!!!!). This time, between the furniture and endless ornate French vases, I stumbled upon a stand with records for ten euros, and tucked among them was the soundtrack to Manhattan.

Now, I can’t stand Woody Allen — but Manhattan (and Annie Hall) still pull me in, mostly because of how iconic Diane Keaton and Meryl Streep are. But also because of the music: a soundtrack built from George Gershwin’s compositions, set against sweeping black-and-white shots of New York City. While so many songs and artists can be the quintessential soundtrack to the city that never sleeps, Gershwin definitely belongs among the top of that list.

Obsessing: Lace details for Fall

The best part about fall creeping in? Finally feeling in the mood to play dress-up again. Fall clothes are hands down my favorite: trench coats, sweaters, layers on layers! It feels so good to finally be able to add something extra again, without immediately feeling like melting cheese and regretting it.

But one thing I’m looking forward to having fun with is this trend that’s been popping all over my Pinterest feed: unexpected touches of lace. It’s such an easy way to add some fun to a tired trench or that sweater you’ve already worn to death. Just the right amount of pizazz, sourced straight from your grandma’s closet — or Vinted.

Recommending: Argan Oil + Rosemary Hair Mask

My hair is ridiculously long right now, and between the summer heat and time spent in the pool, I had to take my hair care up a notch. Don’t worry, I’m not about to recommend some expensive hair product (I confess that my hair is super low-maintenance).

My trick is extremely simple — and affordable: A couple of tablespoons of argan oil, a few drops of rosemary essential oil, and that’s it. I mix it up, coat my hair from roots to ends, twist it into a bun, and let it sit for half an hour. Then, I jump in the shower, rinse it all off, then leave it to air dry (or I’ll blow-dry it if I’m in the mood).

The result? Soft, glossy, bouncy hair that almost makes me feel like a Disney princess, and that birds might just come help make my bed any minute now.

I do this once every 1-2 weeks since I’ve read that too much oil masking can weigh hair down. And the only reason I stick to argan is because I still have a big bottle I lugged back from Morocco last year, but jojoba, coconut, or even olive oil work just as well.

Treating: Home-made Lavender Lattes

Around this time last year, I spent a month in Seattle visiting Lexi, my best friend (and business partner at the Solo Girl’s Travel Guide). The very first place she took me, straight from the airport, was a little coffee shop near her place. She ordered us lavender lattes, and I haven’t stopped thinking about that drink since. It was one of those “if I ever opened a café, this would definitely be on the menu” kind of moments. (Because honestly, what girl hasn’t daydreamed about owning a café at least once?)

Anyway, this week I decided I’d learn how to make lavender syrup at home to try to recreate that latte. Or at least something close to it. And I nailed it! Don’t worry, I’ll share the full how-to very soon, because this latte feels like the perfect little treat for Fall.

‘til next time!

Emilia

Website | Instagram | TikTok | Pinterest | Travel Guides

Previously on Postmarked!

But, there’s always a part of me that wants summer to linger juuuust a little bit longer. I can’t stop the calendar, so the next best thing is bottling a small piece of summer to carry into the colder months — and lemons are the perfect piece of summer essence to capture.

Since I first visited Marrakech in 2022, I fell in love with it. I fell hard for the color, the chaotic rhythm of the city…and the cuisine obviously. Just as the city itself, Moroccan food is all about contrast: soft and subtle notes set against sudden bursts of intensity. I’ve always described this city as a triple shot of espresso to the senses. It’s chaotic, but in a wonderful way.

Naturally, I started experimenting with Moroccan-inspired dishes back home, but as much as I tried, there was always something missing. A punch, an aromatic final touch I couldn’t quite pinpoint. Until I discovered that the missing magical ingredient was…preserved lemons.

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What are preserved lemons? Preserved lemons are lemons that have been packed in salt (and sometimes spices) and left to ferment until the acidity mellows into a deep, savory, almost floral flavor.

Preserving lemons this way is a tradition that runs deep across North Africa and the Middle East, with roots stretching back centuries. In Morocco, they’re called leems makbouss or leems m’qadad, and no well-stocked pantry is without a jar. Long before refrigeration, salting citrus was a way to capture a fleeting season, to keep the brightness of winter fruit alive all year long.

You’ll find different versions from Egypt to India — sometimes spiced with chili and fenugreek, sometimes simply bathed in their own juice and lots of salt. But in Morocco, their use goes hand in hand with the country’s gastronomy, providing that “something special” to tagines, salads, and stews.

Preserved lemons are pure magic: the transformation of something sharp and bright into something soft and layered. You cut them, salt them, and wait. That’s it. It’s the simplest trick in the book. And yet, weeks later, when you open the jar, the scent that hits your nose is like summer aged in glass — warm, mellow, and with just enough tang to transform any dish from good to “I’m so having seconds”.

A spoonful stirred into a chicken marinade, a sliver slipped into a vinaigrette, a smudge of the softened rind mashed into butter for a lemony, aromatic pasta. Anyway you use it, preserved lemons will change your life, I swear.

How to Make Preserved Lemons

(makes 1 jar, lasts for months)

What you need:

• 5–6 unwaxed lemons

• Sea salt (about 1 tablespoon per lemon)

• Extra lemon juice. As much as you need to cover the lemons fully.

• I usually keep mine plain, but you can add a few peppercorns, bay leaves, or even a cinnamon stick if you want a little drama.

How to prepare them:

1. Scrub the lemons well. Cut each one into quarters almost all the way through, so they stay attached at the base.

2. Pack each lemon generously with salt, then tuck them into a clean jar, pressing down to release some juice. Every time you add a lemon, add a a spoonful of salt. Keep going until you fill the whole jar.

3. Add any spices, then pour in enough extra lemon juice to cover.

4. Seal and leave in a cool, dark place for about 3–4 weeks, turning the jar upside down every few days. Once softened and fragrant, store in the fridge.

5. Use the rinds or the juice, according to the intensity of the flavor you want!

I hope you enjoy them! If you give them a try, I’d love to hear how they turn out — and which recipes they end up brightening in your kitchen.

‘til next time!

Emilia

Website | Instagram | TikTok | Pinterest | Travel Guides

Instead of scheduling that post, I found myself drafting this one.

Because every once in a while, we all have days that feel impossibly heavy. Or where it feels like everything is going left, while you’re working so hard on going right. But crappy days have a way of stacking themselves higher and heavier than they really are. And sometimes all we need is a small, gentle antidote to make things better and lighter, and remind us that in the end, things probably aren’t that bad.

So here’s my Bad Day Rescue List — a random assortment of things that usually make me feel better on those days that feel like everything, even myself, is too much.

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My Bad-Day Rescue List

1. Sing this song as loud as you can. I don’t why this one, but it works.

2. Or this one. There’s no dark cloud this song can’t dissipate.

3. Close your computer. Put your phone down. Ignore the world for a little while and go for a walk. Task yourself with noticing 5 things. Flowers, colors, whatever helps you stay present and grounded.

4. Zoom out. Do the mental excercise of zooming out as if you were zooming out on Google Earth. When you remember we’re just a tiny speck in an infinite Universe…things don’t seem as drastic.

5. Cry to your best friend(s). Vent it all out. You’ll start with tears and end with laughter.

6. Or write it all out. Everything that feels heavy, everything that feels wrong, everything you’re feeling and not feeling. Putting it all on paper has a way of really lightening the burden.

7. Drink something citrusy and bubbly. Bright flavors to brighten the mood.

8. Eat dark chocolate. This was actual advice given to me by a therapist. Dark chocolate releases the “feel good” chemicals in our brain.

9. Take a shower in the middle of the day and let it be your reset. Let everything heavy be washed down.

10. Do something with your hands. Cook, knit, paint, play with air dry clay. Let your hands pull you out of your head and into your body.

11. Ask the best hugger you know for a hug. A tight one.

12. Make a list of things to be grateful for. Gratitude literally rewires the brain.

13. Organize your space. While it feels like we can’t control or help some things that happen around us, focus on the things you can control or make better. Plus, organizing your space will declutter your mind as well. Tidy space = tidy mind.

I hope you don’t need this list any time soon — but in case that you do, I hope it does help brighten your day…even if it’s just a little 💘

What do you on your bad- day rescue list? Anything I should add to mine? I read you.

‘til next time!

Emilia

Website | Instagram | TikTok | Pinterest | Travel Guides

I slipped away to France this weekend with a few friends, just a quick escape to visit an antiques market (I’ll tell you more about that soon). But now I’m back home and easing into the week, and I thought I’d send you this impromptu postcard from my couch, teacup in hand, and cramps in full swing.

To the men reading: yes, we’re talking cramps today. I could tell you to skip this post, but chances are you have a woman, a mother, sister, friend, partner, who deals with period pain and hormonal rollercoasters. Consider this a window to understand a little more, and maybe even pass it along to them.

In my last post, I mentioned how excited I am to share different threads of my life here: travel, of course, but also the kitchen experiments that feel like little acts of witchcraft. My inner child who dreamt of being a witch does a little celebratory dance anytime I learn about the properties of plants, herbs, and the power certain combinations can hold.

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Food, after all, is pure alchemy. And somewhere along the way, we were cheated out of so much ancestral wisdom about food as medicine—especially when it comes to our own seasons and cycles. I’m no expert whatsoever, but I’ve gotten good at tuning in to what my body’s asking for, following those hunches like little nudges from some inner voice pointing me toward things I need to learn or look into.

Before I go on, a quick disclaimer: this isn’t medical advice, this is just my own experience, which I’m sharing in case it’s useful to anyone. Don’t take this as a substitute for professional guidance. If you’re considering making changes to your health, diet, or lifestyle, it’s always best to check in with a qualified professional first.

And one of those hunches led me to creating the tea blend I’m sharing today. I started making it earlier this year, after my periods became more painful than usual. I dove into learning about the plants and herbs that could help me make my cycles easier.

This mix soothes my cramps almost instantly and eases away most of the PMS symptoms. Sometimes I even start sipping it as soon as my luteal phase begins, just to soften the landing before my period arrives. And I can see and feel a tangible difference between the months when I take this tea and the ones I don’t.

Here’s what’s in the blend…

My Happy Hormones Tea Blend :)

White Nettle, Dandelion Root, Spearmint, Fennel Seeds, Lemon Verbena, Rose Petals — optional Licorice Root

Here’s the breakdown:

• White Nettle: Good for inflammation and the nervous system.

• Dandelion Root: A deep cleanser for liver and lymph, that aids the body’s natural detox and hormonal regulation.

• Spearmint: Cooling, sweet, and incredibly supportive of androgen balance.

• Fennel Seeds: Harmonizes digestion and supports estrogen balance.

• Lemon Verbena: A bright, citrusy touch to brighten your mood and lift the spirits.

• Rose Petals: To add a sprinkle of feminine energy and self-love.

• Optional: Licorice Root — a potent adaptogen and endocrine ally. However, licorice root can be irritating for the stomach if taken too often, so I didn’t add it to my general mix. I add a little bit to my tea from time to time.

I filled a big jar with mostly equal parts of each ingredient, except for spearmint, which I added more generously. And to prepare the tea, just steep 1–2 teaspoons of the blend in freshly boiled water for 7–10 minutes.

I enjoy this tea better while hot, but during the summer, it’s been nice to have it iced too. You can make a big jar and leave it in the fridge and enjoy it chilled :)

Let me know if you end up trying this blend and if it’s helpful to you in any way!

Previously on Postmarked!

‘til next time!

Emilia

Website | Instagram | TikTok | Pinterest | Travel Guides

The title alone hit deep chord. Because for the past few years, I’ve lived with this gnawing sense that I have to ask for that very thing: permission to be more than one thing…All while living in the era of the Personal Brand.

Erifili writes:

“Hearing the advice that I had to pick a niche used to feel like I was being told to cut off a limb, until I realized I just don’t have to. Interdisciplinarity is a strength, just as singular laser-focus is a strength. It’s not that one is right and the other wrong — they are different strengths because we are different people.”

I couldn’t have articulated the torturous, suffocating weight of “niching down” any better. I’ve often found myself at that crossroads, told to choose one passion, one facet of my multi-hyphenate self, and stay with it ‘til death do us part.

On one hand, I do understand the need for niches, especially when it comes to personal branding. I understand repetition is what makes a brand memorable, and that our brain uses labels to make sense of the world. I am this. You are that.

But on the other hand, the whole notion of niches has always felt like an invisible hand tightening around my throat. Suffocating and paralyzing. Because we are not designed to be just one thing. At least not forever.

Life is not meant to be just one dish. Life is a ten-course dinner that journeys through different recipes, flavors, textures, and ingredients. We are not meant to fit neatly into a 4:5 grid or a 150-character bio. We are not designed to fit within an ever-changing algorithm that wants you to do the same thing over, and over, and over.

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“Telling a multi-passionate person to “pick a niche” is like asking a rainbow to choose one colour” -

There are days when I feel more like a painter. And there are other days, when I feel like I’m utterly in love with photography, and I don’t want to do anything else ever again. Some days, I crave the thrill of travel, and others, the quiet bliss of my daily rituals at home. It’s human to contradict ourselves. Because we’re complex, ever-evolving beings. Because we contain multitudes.

Just think about all the incredible artists and creatives throughout history who refused to fit neatly into one box.

Like Dalí. Sure, he painted surreal dreamscapes, but he also designed jewelry, collaborated with Elsa Schiaparelli on the infamous lobster dress, co-directed avant-garde films with Luis Buñuel, illustrated books, and even created elaborate department store window displays. He even created a cookbook for his beloved Gala.

Or Hedy Lamarr, one of the most glamorous Hollywood stars of the 1940s, who also co-invented a frequency-hopping communication system to prevent torpedo jamming during WWII…which became the foundation for Wi-Fi. Imagine what the world would look like if she’d stuck to acting, and acting alone.

And what about Anthony Bourdain. A chef who wrote an email to a friend that snowballed into Kitchen Confidential, his first book, launching him into publishing, and then to becoming host and producer of some of the most unforgettable travel shows ever made. If he’d stayed cooped up in the kitchen, we would’ve missed seeing the world through his eyes.

This list could go on forever, but what I’m here to say is: Don’t forget that, in real life, we get to write our own narrative, and we get to edit it as often as we want. We can try on different hats and see which fits. We can follow a flicker of curiosity just to see where it takes us.

We can be explorers — of roads and passions alike. We can be dancers and painters. Architects and tattoo artists. Boss girls and moss girls. Moms and solo travelers. Writers and cooks. Businesspeople and healers. Bombshells and geniuses.

So this is a little reminder not to let yourself be defined by your online persona. The digital world is simply a space where we can share who we are. Every version, every color, every era that makes us, well, us.

The world doesn’t benefit when we trim our edges and sand down our corners to fit inside a tiny box. The world expands when we do.

And I believe this topic is why I’ve enjoyed Substack so much: it’s turned out to be such a healing place for me. It’s a space where I can wander between my own facets, document and share them…and witness so many others doing the same.

So, thank you, dear reader, for being here and allowing me to share this journey with you.

I’m looking forward to continuing to share the myriad of things that excite me, and that hopefully, will excite you too :)

Previously on Postmarked!

‘til next time!

Emilia

Website | Instagram | TikTok | Pinterest | Travel Guides

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This Etched Tumbler Set

This etched glass tumbler set from East Fork Pottery has me completely smitten. Each tumbler is made from recycled glass in Mexico (some areas, like Guadalajara, are known for glassblowing!) and hand-etched, one by one. I love the contrast of the softness of the thistles against the sturdiness of the glass. This set feels like a modern take on something I might’ve found in my late grandmother’s house. Sadly, East Fork is based in North Carolina, in the States, so it feels completely out of reach here in Spain. But oh, how these are going to live rent-free in my brain!

Cecil Beaton’s Garden Party Exhibit

I haven’t made it to London yet, but this exhibit alone is enough to put it at the top of my travel wish list. It must be quite a thing stepping into the fascinating mind of Cecil Beaton, a master of elegance and whimsy, and his dreamy world of florals, fashion and photography. You can read more about the exhibit in this article by Blumenhaus.

This Mandarin Miso Brownie Recipe…

If there’s miso involved, consider me hooked from the start. So when I stumbled across this brownie recipe that pairs miso with tangerines (one of my all-time favorite fruits) it jumped straight onto my “Definitely trying to make that” list. And ’s videos were an instant crush. Her storytelling and editing are as delicious as the recipes she shares. The best part? She’s got a Substack too, and you can subscribe right here.

Maison Balzac’s Bloody Mary Glass

Pretty much everything in Maison Balzac’s catalogue feels like a little moment of perfection, but this Bloody Mary glass takes it to a whole new level. It’s not a glass, but a playful reimagining of Sunday’s favorite cocktail. It comes with a “celery stick” stirrer included, an effortlessly clever wink to the original garnish. As if drinking Bloody Marys wasn’t fun enough.

Physical Phones

Remember when talking on the phone was actually a thing? When phones would ring casually through the house, and you’d pick up without a second thought—no smart-phone anxiety, no constant juggling between notifications or living in DND mode. The other day, I stumbled across this brilliant video of a girl who’s literally bringing physical phones back. Grandma-style rotary phones and wall phones that hook up to your iPhone and even let you use Siri through them to dial. It’s nice to see how some “old ways” are having a come back in our hyper-digital world.

Previously on Postmarked!

‘til next time!

Emilia

Website | Instagram | TikTok | Pinterest | Travel Guides