If you ever want to know what really anchors a person, ask them what they absolutely can’t live without. Not the life-or-death essentials like oxygen, water, or coffee (although, let’s be real, coffee is walking a thin line between luxury and necessity). I’m talking about the quirky, non-negotiables—the things that feel like a survival pack stuffed with bits of your personality.

For me? My list isn’t flashy or curated to impress strangers on Instagram. These are the tried-and-true staples—the comforts, joys, and little sparks of magic that keep my world turning. So, here it is. A peek into the Kaylee Starter Pack, because who doesn’t love a good nosey, light-hearted glimpse at someone else’s lifelines?

1. Sunscreen… Always Sunscreen

No, I’m not sponsored by Big Sunscreen (yet). But if I had a dime for every time I’ve been the only person in a group slathering SPF 50 across my shoulders like I’m frosting a birthday cake—well, let’s just say I wouldn’t be renting beach chairs anymore.

Growing up along the Grand Strand, sunscreen wasn’t optional. My mom, armed with a bottle of Coppertone and a tone you didn’t argue with, made sure I never took the sun for granted. And yes, I got annoyed. (What kid doesn’t when their salty skin gets rubbed down before the next round of sandcastle competitions?) But adult-me? Oh, I’m obsessed.

Sunscreen is insurance for those “spontaneous beach bonfire” nights when someone’s waxing poetic about how their ex looked like a young Jeff Goldblum. It’s also my unspoken love letter to future Kaylee, who I hope has glowing, wrinkle-free skin, thank you very much.

2. My Notebook: A Brain Dump in Spiral Form

Here’s the thing: when your mind works like a touristy pier—buzzing, colorful, chaotic—it’s easy to lose track of the important stuff. Enter my trusty notebook.

This isn’t one of those fancy, leather-bound agendas with gold-edged pages. It’s a paper-clad workhorse I picked up at the drugstore. Sand smudges on the cover? Oh, absolutely. Filled with more crossed-out thoughts than coherent ones? You bet. But it’s sacred. It’s where my half-finished article ideas (and occasionally embarrassing poetry attempts) go to live.

Need proof of its value? The first draft of my novel was born in its pages during a lazy afternoon on the pier, fueled by a basket of hush puppies and too much Diet Coke. It’s a time capsule of my messy brain, and honestly, I’d panic without it.

3. The Grand Strand Playlist

The playlist has no official name, but it lives on every device I own, ready for a quick dopamine hit. Think warm, acoustic strumming paired with a little coastal melancholy. It’s Jimmy Buffett-meets-Hozier, perfect for sunset drives that feel like they belong in an indie movie trailer.

Music like this doesn’t just fill the silence; it sets a rhythm for everything I do. If you’ve ever tried to write breakup advice while Stevie Nicks croons in the background, you’ll know what I mean. It’s magic.

Sometimes I add in curveballs—like a pop banger that reminds me of high school beach bonfires or a Patsy Cline classic my dad used to hum while prepping tables at our café. It’s not just a list of songs; it’s an emotional scrapbook of all the places I’ve been (physically and emotionally).

4. My Go-To Maxi Dress

Hear me out: a good maxi dress is less about fashion and more about a lifestyle. Mine is teal, flows like a dream, and has pockets (which honestly might be its defining feature). It’s survived years of wear and tear—from sunrise coffee chats at the café to those serendipitous boardwalk strolls where you end up eating shrimp tacos at midnight.

This dress gives me main-character energy. It sits at the perfect crossroads of comfort and “maybe I’ll bump into the love of my life at the farmer’s market.” If life ever gets turned into one of those breezy indie romance films, I’ll be wearing this dress during the dramatic confession scene, probably as the Atlantic wind swirls through my hair.

5. A Single Polaroid of My Grandparents

It’s from the ‘70s, slightly yellowed around the edges, and shows them laughing on the pier’s Ferris wheel. My grandpa has this tube-sock commitment, my grandma is rocking oversized sunglasses, and the moment captures exactly the kind of love I’ve always hoped to find.

By the time I got old enough to really appreciate their love story, they’d already become one of those couples who finished each other’s sentences and couldn’t agree on whose pot roast recipe was better. But the backstory—the long summer walks, the awkward decades of figuring each other out—makes their type of bond feel real and attainable.

It’s not on my phone or tucked in an album. It’s in my wallet because it reminds me, on tough days, that even imperfect beginnings can lead to remarkable endings.

6. A 3-Piece Skincare Routine

Full disclosure: My skincare strategy didn’t become a priority until after a few questionable Charleston summers where I thought spraying aloe on a sunburn qualified as “self-care.” Today, I live and die by my trifecta: cleanser, moisturizer, and hyaluronic acid serum.

Why? Because relationships take work—and so does your skin barrier. In the same way I remind friends to water their metaphorical “connection plants” (ya know—the ones that shrivel when ignored), I remind myself not to skip the PM routine. There’s something oddly grounding about carving out 10 minutes every evening to care for yourself, even if it’s just patting serum into your face while Lizzo plays faintly in the background.

7. Flip-Flops That Have Seen Too Much

They’re not cute. Honestly, if flip-flops could speak, they’d probably whisper tragic secrets about all the bad date conversations I’ve endured at beachfront diners. But I can’t part with them. They’ve molded to my arches, and wearing them feels like greeting an old friend.

These shoes have been with me during spontaneous midnight swims, puddle-filled downpours, and lengthy boardwalk debates over fried Oreos vs. funnel cakes (the correct answer is funnel cakes, fight me). Losing them would feel like losing a co-pilot who never complains about detours.

8. The Grand Strand Seen From My Paddleboard

Okay, technically this one isn’t a thing—but it’s an irreplaceable perspective. There’s something about floating just far enough from shore, where the sound shifts from human chatter to seabird chaos, that clears my brain better than any guided meditation app.

Wobbly as I am on a paddleboard, this is my therapy. It’s where I go to untangle thoughts, heal heartbreak, or simply revel in the beauty of existing on this weird, spinning planet. Bonus: It’s easier to spot the good seashells before they hit the tourist-strewn shores.

9. My Mom’s Biscuit Recipe

She wrote it out on a napkin corner, complete with cryptic instructions like “pinch till it feels right” (what is that supposed to mean, mom?). I used to think biscuits just magically appeared on weekend mornings in our café kitchen. Now, I know they happen because someone pours their whole heart into dough and butter.

Whenever I feel homesick for a time when things felt simpler, I bake her biscuits. They bring me back to summer mornings when life smelled like coffee and possibilities, and the only emotion big enough to freak me out was whether or not the YMCA boy would dance with me.

Conclusion: Collecting Your Own Essentials

The things you can’t live without don’t have to make sense to everyone. They just have to make you feel at home—in your skin, in your daily rhythm, in your world. Relationships, like life, are better when you know what anchors you—what comforts you when nothing makes sense and what gives you joy just because it exists.

So, go ahead. Start your own list. Bonus if it includes sunscreen. It’s a love language, I promise.