When I was little, I used to carry a scrappy bundle of pressed flowers in my backpack wherever I went, convinced they were my good luck charm. Somewhere along the way, that bundle vanished, but the feeling it gave me stuck around—a sense that small rituals and personal essentials are what keep us grounded, even when life gets messy. Cut to today, and I now have a carefully curated list of things I genuinely can’t live without—objects, experiences, even flavors that keep me tethered to the best parts of myself.
We may romanticize the grand gestures in life, but often, it’s the quiet constants that make all the difference—especially in our relationships. (It’s the same logic that makes marinating your morning miso soup so much more essential than splurging on an overpriced bottle of white truffle oil.) Want to know mine? Here’s a glimpse into the personal miscellany that keeps me, well, me.
1. My Mint-Green Fountain Pen
Sometimes in life, you swipe right. Other times, you glide left—with a fountain pen, that is. Mine is a relic of my grad school days in Vancouver when sleek gel pens were all the rage, but I was busy scouring antique stores for something with a little more soul.
A fountain pen reminds me that slowing down can be a good thing, whether you’re sketching an outline for an article or penning an overdue “thank you” note. It’s also a lesson in maintenance—refilling ink, keeping the nib clean, staying attentive to the little things. Sound familiar? Relationships often need the same care. (Pro tip: A handwritten love note hits differently than a texting spree littered with emojis.)
2. The Playlist That Knows Me Better Than I Know Myself
Imagine walking through the rainy streets of Tokyo with nothing but headphones and Ryuichi Sakamoto’s piano quietly cradling your thoughts. That’s my happy place. My playlists—a carefully balanced blend of Sakamoto, Mitski, and the occasional early ’00s Christina Aguilera for dramatic flair—are my portable therapy sessions.
Music is non-negotiable on tough days and endless train commutes. But here’s the thing: sharing those songs with someone else? That’s a form of intimacy that can sneak up on you. Swap a playlist, and you're sharing your soul without needing to overshare on a first date. It’s a modern mixtape—sans the awkward CD-burning process.
3. Eucalyptus-Scented Everything
I never thought I’d become the type of person who worships a smell, but eucalyptus has become an unofficial mascot for my life. It feels like an olfactory hug—a forest breeze bottled up. I burn eucalyptus candles during long winter nights, spritz eucalyptus mist on my duvet cover, and daydream about hanging bundles of it from the showerhead for that in-home spa vibe.
Eucalyptus reminds me that small sensory pleasures are worth prioritizing, not unlike how your partner offering you the last piece of sushi is a gesture that says, “I see you.” Self-care may feel ridiculously indulgent at times, but so are the best relationships. Have the eucalyptus. Lights the candles. Offer the last sushi roll.
4. My Ugly-Cute Coffee Mug
Picture this: a hideous teal ceramic mug I impulse-bought from a kiln while living in Paris. It has a blob of glaze that looks vaguely like a melting snail. My best friend called it an “artistic atrocity,” but this mug has become part of my daily ritual—a morning moment of grounding, cradling it between my hands as I scroll through emails or just stare into space.
It’s not so much about the mug itself but what it represents: comforting routines that feel like home, no matter where you are or who you’re with. In relationships, we often chase novelty, but it’s the everyday moments shared—sipping coffee side by side—that form the basis of genuine intimacy.
5. A Story Only I Know How to Tell
It’s not an object, per se, but an intangible essential: my go-to story that gets people to crack a smile, even on the cringiest of first dates. We all have one. Mine involves a botched Parisian art gallery internship, a rogue pigeon breaking into the exhibit room, and me chasing it out barefoot while horrified patrons watched.
The thing about this story isn’t just its sheer absurdity—it’s the way it reminds me that it’s okay to laugh at yourself. Shared laughter can diffuse tension faster than trying to memorize the perfect opening line. Whether you’re sitting across from someone new or enduring an awkward dinner with your in-laws, humor is a bridge. Sometimes, it’s the only bridge.
6. A Bowl of Rice (Order Restored)
Growing up, every meal at home began and ended with rice. Well, almost every meal—I have yet to figure out the compatibility of rice and pancakes. But the point? No matter how extravagant or simple our kitchen experiments got, the rice was the constant. In the tempest of mismatched trends and fleeting connections, rice remains a reminder of stability.
Now, no matter how many new cuisines I explore, rice stays at the heart of my eating habits. It’s anchoring, much like the values that sustain a strong relationship: consistency, effort, mutual respect. Rice, for me, says “I’m home.”
7. A Beautifully Broken Fragrance Bottle
At some point in Vancouver, I knocked my favorite perfume bottle off the bathroom counter, leaving it in a gloriously shattered—but still functional—state. And yet, I refuse to throw it out. It now lives proudly on my dresser.
This bottle reminds me that perfection is overrated. Flaws give character to objects, people, and relationships alike. Whether you’re recovering from heartbreak or navigating your partner’s weird attachment to their college hoodie, remembering that imperfection can be beautiful makes life feel less like a high-stakes balancing act.
8. My Passport
Yes, it’s practical. But it’s so much more than a booklet full of stamps. My passport, often borderline expired but miraculously renewed just in time, is proof of my adventures, lessons, and open-ended curiosity. Travel has taught me that love feels different in different cultures—that Paris romance may bloom over late espresso, while Tokyo love unfolds in quiet subway exchanges.
In dating jargon, my passport is my wingman. But in truth, it’s my reminder to stay open to exploration and make space for new ideas, perspectives, and yes, people.
These are my essentials—the little things that fill my cup (or, in the case of that teal ceramic mug, blob). If there’s one takeaway from this list, it’s this: Life isn’t an endless chase for “more.” Sometimes, fulfillment comes from deliberately choosing the constants, the quirks, and the comforts that remind you who you are.
And maybe, if you’re lucky, the people and connections you value most will reflect that same sense of home. It’s like passing your scrappy bundle of pressed flowers to someone else, hoping they get it—hoping they get you. And isn’t that what we’re all looking for?
