My mornings begin with Ella Fitzgerald singing me out of dreams, her voice swirling through my apartment like steam curling from a fresh cappuccino. It’s not the most practical wake-up ritual—there’s no blaring alarm to shock me into productivity—but it’s an ode to what I hold sacred: nurturing creativity through moments of beauty. Over the years, I’ve experimented with countless routines, from rigid schedules to chaotic bursts of inspiration fueled by last-minute deadlines. What I’ve come to realize, however, is that creativity is like a shy houseguest—it doesn’t simply arrive on demand. It needs to be thoughtfully invited, encouraged through rituals that balance humor, introspection, and, occasionally, the right mood lighting.

Let me take you through my creative rituals. They’re not revolutionary, but they’ve become the metronome to my chaotic, art-soaked symphony of a life. And who knows? You might find they strike a chord with your own.

Artfully Unplugging: Why Silence is Today’s Greatest Luxury

Picture this: Manhattan at rush hour, car horns blaring, throngs of pedestrians swarming like bees. Now imagine my studio apartment—a mid-century velvet armchair, the faint aroma of peonies, and absolute silence. To me, silence isn’t just golden; it’s titanium-plated.

Every morning, after Ella drifts into her final note, I turn off my phone. The world gets louder with every notification, email, or meme about someone making bread from their backyard starter. But creativity doesn’t flourish in distractions—it needs uninterrupted space to breathe. Without the noise of social media or a dozen unanswered texts, I allow my mind to wander uninterrupted. Sometimes, I write. Sometimes, I stare at the ceiling (an underrated pastime). Often, an idea will emerge in that pristine silence, like a Monet lily blooming on a still pond.

Takeaway: Start your day by giving creativity the VIP treatment—carve out time free of distractions, even if just for 20 minutes. Silence is the blank canvas every masterpiece deserves.

A Coffee Routine That Borders on Performance Art

Ask anyone who knows me: I take coffee very seriously. If my Nespresso machine ever grew sentient, it would probably draft a restraining order. Still, this isn’t just about caffeine; it’s about ritual. Grinding beans (yes, I do that by hand); staring wistfully out my window like I’m in an indie film montage; using my favorite Art Deco mug I bought in London as a reminder of past adventures.

It’s the one part of my day where I prioritize process over results. And isn’t that what creativity truly demands? By the time I’ve sat down with my velvety americano, I’ve already gotten into the mindset that great work takes care, patience, and a little performance flair. Caffeine doesn’t hurt, either.

Takeaway: Creativity isn’t just in the work you do; it’s in the care you take to set the stage for it. Build small rituals into your day that let you romanticize the mundane.

The Magic of Moving—No, Not to Tuscany (Yet)

Back during graduate school in Oxford, I discovered that pacing the cobblestone streets with no clear direction was a sure way to summon inspiration. There’s something about slipping into physical motion that shakes ideas loose. These days, I replicate that magic with long, meandering strolls through Central Park or along the Chelsea galleries. No headphones—just the rhythm of my steps and whatever thoughts follow.

Movement gives me distance from the storm of overthinking. On a recent walk, I had been ruminating over a stubborn paragraph in an essay about art and modern dating—and boom, clarity hit as soon as I spotted a toddler enthusiastically attempting to ‘hug’ a statue of Balto. Stop taking it so seriously, I thought. You’re not saving the sled dogs of Alaska, you’re just writing. There’s freedom in remembering that.

Takeaway: Creativity thrives when you step away from your desk. Go for a walk, dance in your kitchen, or do yoga—movement can loosen not only your muscles but your mental knots.

The Candlelight Confession Hour

In the evenings, especially on those moody, rainy nights that make Manhattan feel cinematic, I light a candle and journal. Not the “Dear Diary, here is what I ate today” kind of journaling (though, no shame if that’s your thing). I write without a prompt, without a plan—half the time, it’s just incoherent musings about whatever wants to pour out.

Somewhere amid the words, though, there are glimmers of potential: a phrase that sticks in my head like Velcro, a new perspective on yesterday’s frustrating conversation, or an epiphany about why Georgia O’Keeffe’s paintings still haunt me so deeply. Writing without judgment reminds me that not every idea starts as a masterpiece—many ideas are just seedlings buried in the dirt, waiting to sprout.

Also, candlelight makes everything feel more poetic. Even if my “confession” is literally “must stop impulse-buying tote bags.”

Takeaway: Let your thoughts flow freely and imperfectly. Journaling is less about brilliance and more about cultivating space for your subconscious to speak up—bonus points if you add candles for flair.

Romanticizing Randomness: The Joy of the Unexpected

One of the best lessons I learned from the art world is that the best inspiration frequently comes from accidents. A spilled bottle of wine during a paint-and-sip class with friends once became the perfect shade of plum in a painting I hated until it suddenly worked. These moments remind me that creativity doesn’t always follow a tidy formula; sometimes, it’s serendipity at play.

That’s why I make randomness part of my ritual. When I feel creatively stuck, I try something unexpected—it could be flipping open a book of poetry to a random page, cutting collage papers out of an old Cartier catalog, or visiting an artsy hole-in-the-wall café I’ve never been to. Creativity has a mischievous spirit, and I’ve found it tends to return when I surprise myself.

Takeaway: Don’t wait for inspiration to strike like lightning—poke it with a stick. Inject novelty into your life, and let the unexpected spark something new.

Final Musings: Embrace Your Inner Eccentric

Look, we live in a world that sometimes makes creativity feel impractical, a luxury left for dreamers or eccentric heiresses in sweeping war dramas. (For the record, I’ve always identified with Edith Wharton’s Lily Bart, minus the tragic ending.) But the truth is, we all need creativity—it’s what makes life vibrant, relatable, and human. Creativity isn’t reserved for artists or writers; it’s there when you solve a problem, write a witty text, or add garnish to your spaghetti because Ina Garten would want you to.

So, my rituals might sound hyper-specific, but they’re simply my way of making space for inspiration to play. Borrow them, tweak them, or make up your own—but whatever you do, honor your curiosity. Creativity is inherently personal, but it’s also contagious, luring others into their own exciting ideas.

Remember this: You don’t need to be a tortured genius in an attic to take your creativity seriously. Sometimes, it’s as simple—and as lovely—as putting on Ella Fitzgerald, sipping beautiful coffee, and enjoying the quirky chaos of your mind. Creativity, just like love, starts with tending the relationship you have with yourself.

Now go grab your favorite mug or take a stroll—your next great idea might just be waiting.