Y’all, I've been hoarding a beautiful Italian sketchbook for months.
It's a Luchetti. 100% cotton paper. Lays completely flat. No gutters. I preordered the thing and waited weeks for it to arrive.
Then I put it on a shelf and didn't touch it — because I wasn't “good enough” for it yet.
Today, I said fuck it and used the damn sketchbook.
The Luchetti, the Watercolors, and Me
If you've followed me for any amount of time, you know I've been teaching myself watercolors. I'm working my way through a course called Watercolors for Relaxation, and I'm finally — finally — starting to feel like I'm getting better. My brush control is still shaky. My drawing skills are still basically nonexistent. But I'm improving, I'm having fun, and that's what matters.
Today I sat down to work on a larger spread for the course. I could have done it in one of my cheap wire-bound watercolor pads. I have several. They're perfectly fine. They're for practice.
But I kept looking at the Luchetti on my shelf and thinking… why? Why am I saving this for some future, “better” version of me who supposedly deserves the nice sketchbook? Especially considering my next sketchbook is going to be one I make by hand. So when, exactly, was I planning to use this gorgeous preordered thing I'd already paid good money for?
So I cracked it open. I started the spread. And, sigh, the paper is incredible. The way watercolor pools and dries on real cotton paper is a whole different experience. I almost cried.
But, of course, this isn't just about a sketchbook.
The Pattern I've Been Running My Whole Life
The Luchetti is just the latest example of something I've been doing for decades.
I save things. I hoard them. I tuck them away in drawers and closets and on shelves, waiting for the “right” moment to use them. And the right moment never comes, so the thing just sits there — going stale, going out of style, or just… not getting used.
The perfume in the drawer.
The nice clothes hanging in the closet with the tags still on.
The “good” pens. The fancy notebook. The bottle of something special I bought on a trip that's “too nice to wear on a regular Tuesday.”
Sound familiar? Tell me I'm not the only one.
The Work-From-Home Trap
It probably doesn't help that I work from home. I have for years.
When I look at the gorgeous perfume in my drawer or the nicer clothes hanging in my closet, my brain immediately says: “Why would I wear that? Nobody's going to see me.”
But lately I've started asking myself: why does someone else need to see me for the good thing to be worth it?
I'm the one wearing the perfume. I'm the one in the soft sweater. I'm the one living in this body, in this house, in this life every single day. If I can't dress up for myself, who am I waiting to dress up for? Some hypothetical future audience that may never exist?
That's bonkers when you spell it out.
Why Do We Do This?
I think a lot of it comes down to fear.
We're afraid of fucking it up. Afraid of using it up and not being able to replace it. Afraid that the version of us we are right now isn't worthy of the nice thing.
For me, it goes a little deeper. I'm a Capricorn (yes, this is relevant, hush). Saving things is genuinely in my nature. I want to make sure I'll always have enough of whatever it is.
A big chunk of it is plain old scarcity mindset. I grew up in the 80s and 90s, watching my family ride out the recession. Saving the good stuff, stockpiling, making things last, not using the nice thing because you might not be able to get another — those are deeply ingrained habits for a lot of us who grew up that way. It's not irrational. It's just… exhausting.
And it costs you things you can't get back.
A reframe started for me earlier this year, when I turned 50.
I don't know what it is about hitting a milestone birthday, but something clicked. I started spritzing the perfume I'd been hoarding — the expensive bottles, the special ones, the ones I'd been saving for occasions that never came. I just… started wearing them. On regular Wednesdays. To go grocery shopping. To sit at my desk and write.
And nothing bad happened. The world didn't end. The perfume didn't run out faster than I could replace it. It just made me feel really, really good. Every day.
So I kept going. And now it's creeping into other corners of my life. The Luchetti today is the latest battle in a slow, steady campaign to stop saving things for a perfect time that's never going to come.
There Is No Perfect Time
There is no perfect time. There is no future version of you who will magically deserve the nice things more than you do right now. The thing will age. The thing will expire. Or — and I know this is uncomfortable to say — you will expire before you ever use the thing.
So use the good perfume. Wear the nice clothes around the house. Open the fancy sketchbook. Crack into the special tea you've been saving. Light the expensive candle. Eat off the good plates on a Tuesday for no reason at all.
You are the special occasion. Today is the perfect time. The “you” right now is the only “you” you get.
So tell me, what's the “good” thing you've been saving for some imaginary perfect day? Maybe today is the day. I'd love to hear what you decide to finally use.
I am glad you used the new sketchbook. I also have a bit of that tendency to hoard or save things and I am always very careful with the things I own, but like you I also try to actually use them as what’s the point if you don’t get to actually use them and get happy from having those products. I’ve gotten a lot better at it as when I was younger I was way worse at not using things and just keeping them for the future.
Yeah, I was definitely a lot worse at hoarding things when I was younger. It seems to be something I am growing out of!
I know I do this with a lot of things. Can’t think of one at the moment exactly? The closest at the moment I can think of is all the books I buy because I know I am going to read them. But then they sit on my TBR bookcase, lol.