Curating my life one unpurchase at a time.

I’ve been thinking a lot lately (what else is there to do?) about the idea of curating my life. Not in the “Pinterest board” way, where everything is perfectly color-coordinated and photogenic, but in the quieter, more intentional sense. The truth is, I’ve been far too susceptible to the pull of social media influencers, the ones who convince me that my perfectly fine coffee mug is suddenly inadequate because it’s not hand-thrown by an artisan in the Alps and photographed on a marble countertop.

I’m tired of the impulse buys that thrill me for all of five minutes before they’re shoved into the back of a packed cupboard. I want to be content with what I already have, and I want to actually enjoy it, rather than constantly chasing the next best thing. The irony is, I’ve surrounded myself with beautiful things over the years: objects, clothes, and even rituals that already feel like “me”, yet I keep letting trends whisper in my ear, telling me I need more, different, newer.

So here’s my quiet rebellion: I’m slowing down. I’m editing my space, my wardrobe, my habits, and yes, my scrolling. I want to live in a way where everything I own and everything I do feels intentional. Where I can look around my home or open my closet and think, “Yes, this is mine, and I love it,” instead of, “Oh right, that was a 2 a.m. Instagram purchase.”

It’s not about perfection, or minimalism, or joining some anti-consumerist cult. It’s about curating a life that feels deeply mine, rather than one pieced together from other people’s highlight reels. And honestly, I think that’s the trend worth following.