The Things I Can’t Live Without

There’s an unspoken magic in the little things that keep us tethered to ourselves, isn’t there? The objects, rituals, and comforts that help us weather heartbreaks, celebrate wins, or simply navigate the madness of modern life. If you’re reading this over your overpriced cold brew (extra oat milk), nodding already, welcome—you’re my kind of people. Pull up a chair, because today I’m peeling back the velvet curtain on the absolute essentials that make my world go round.

From the sentimental to the slightly absurd, here are the things I can’t live without—cue dramatic soundtrack and a Nora Ephron-esque voiceover about perspective, love, and a really good bagel.

The Perfect Red Lipstick

You don’t grow up with Beverly Hills gala photos plastered across the tabloids without learning one thing: confidence is 75% attitude, 25% lipstick. And no, I’m not exaggerating. After years of trial, error, and one too many orange-leaning reds (burn the Sephora receipts), I found mine: MAC’s Ruby Woo. It’s the red that somehow works for every skin tone, even when you’re on your third mimosa at brunch pretending life’s got no curveballs.
Dab it on for a casual “Oh, this? I just woke up like Vera Farmiga in an indie rom-com,” or swipe it boldly for a first date when you need Tucker from Venice Beach to know you’re unshakable. (You’re not, but he doesn’t need to know that.) Ruby Woo rallies me from bad moods and Sunday scaries alike. Chipped nails, messy hair? No one notices if the lipstick’s right.

The Notebook I Will One Day Write My Screenplay In (I Swear)

Is it cliché for a writer to talk about their journal? Absolutely. But this isn’t just any journal—this is my Moleskine obsession. I’ve carried one since I interned in New York City, wandering SoHo with Taylor Swift’s “1989” on repeat, fully imagining Nora Ephron applause-winning dialogue spilling from my head onto paper (spoiler: it’s mostly to-do lists and snarky boyfriend anecdotes).
But here’s the thing: a good notebook is less about manifesting the next bestseller and more about the quiet act of claiming space for your thoughts. I probably have two dozen stacked up on a shelf, filled with everything from potential essay titles to Shabbat dinner debates that could outshine a Netflix special. Some pages revisit heartbreaks that have healed, others revisit ideas that haven’t yet bloomed. It keeps me grounded and dreaming all at once.

My Grandma’s Necklace—A Little Sparkle, A Lot of Soul

It’s delicate, gold, and slightly weathered—kind of like who I hope to be at 90. My grandmother, who we called “Bubbe Roz,” slipped it off her neck and onto mine when I graduated from UCLA, an act that seemed casual for her but monumental for me. She wore it to her first red carpet (a mid-70s Hitchcock film premiere!), at every Seder, and even to her favorite deli in Studio City, “just in case she saw someone important,” which is exactly the level of over-prepared energy I aspire to.
This necklace doesn’t just remind me of her—it anchors me when the world feels like a zero-star Yelp review. Plus, throwing it on always garners compliments from strangers. My Bubbe Roz was right: a little glam can change everything, even if you’re just running errands.

The “Almost Too Good to Eat” Bagel

Oh please, you didn’t think I’d write an entire article without mentioning bagels, did you? Bagels are my love language. And while LA doesn’t have the same New York swagger when it comes to bagels, the right one can heal your soul, head cold, and maybe even your procrastination habit.
My favorite? The genius that is a seeded everything bagel from Yeastie Boys food truck. Toasted to perfection, slathered in scallion cream cheese, topped with lox if I’m splurging. It’s a reminder of my roots—both Jewish ones and Hollywood ones because, let’s be real, food trucks are LA culture—and of simpler times spent savoring flavors, not scrolling through dating app disasters.

My Friday Night Ritual (Because Rest Is Essential)

I grew up with Friday nights draped in tradition: Shabbat dinner as non-negotiable as reruns of Friends. These dinners felt sacred—not just for challah and wine (hello, carbs) but for the way they made life pause. No phones. No shoot schedules. Just people around a table, laughing, debating the finer points of Streisand versus Midler, reminding each other that connection doesn’t need Wi-Fi.
Even now, as an “adult” (debatable), I try to maintain some form of this reset ritual, even if it’s just me lighting a candle and pouring a glass of Pinot Noir while humming Hebrew blessings. It’s grounding, like a cosmic reminder to inhale deeply, exhale fully, and be here for once.

Pilates Classes That Humble Me AND Make My Jeans Fit

As someone who’s spent years cultivating the lofty “effortless” aesthetic of LA living, let me tell you—Pilates is the bias-cut slip dress of fitness routines: deceptively minimalist but wildly unforgiving if you don’t show up and do the work.
I attend reformer classes at this boutique studio in West Hollywood where at least two former Bachelorette contestants are regulars. And while yes, the experience includes overpriced juice shots and occasional existential dread when my instructor cheerfully says “activate your pelvic floor,” it also gives me peace. An hour away from screens, reminding me I have muscles (since typing doesn’t count as cardio). Best thing? It boosts my confidence when I’m stuck in my head replaying awkward Tinder date moments. (A Pilates glow is a real glow, trust me.)

My Vintage Movie Posters

Because, naturally, any reflection on What I Can’t Live Without must include an homage to classic cinema. My apartment is a shrine to films that shaped me—Audrey Hepburn gazing longingly in Breakfast at Tiffany’s, Paul Newman smoldering in Cool Hand Luke. These are more than decor; they’re time machines. Growing up, I sat cross-legged in front of my dad’s editing bay, begging to watch just one more classic movie scene. Whether it’s Hepburn’s pearls or Spielberg’s shark, these posters remind me why I fell for storytelling in the first place.

Takeaway: Life Is Built on The Little Big Things

What I can’t live without isn’t always shiny or expensive (except, let’s be real, the occasional $9 matcha latte). It’s the lipstick that saves me on bad days, the necklace that links me to a legacy, and the lox-soaked mornings that remind me how delicious small joys can be. Sometimes, life is just about savoring a bagel or scribbling big dreams into a tiny notebook. And when you share those joys—over dinner tables, on yoga mats, or even on dime-a-dozen dating profiles—you might just find the best connection yet.