I may only have 100 square feet to work with, but it’s all happening in my balcony container garden right now. The only thing I’ve wanted this spring is to cover my space in flowers. It’s only natural given the darkness we are being forced to live in. I’ve spent the past two months obsessing over my perfect summer garden and now it’s go time in zone 10b.

I started the outdoor season with an overflowing bulb display at the end of February: sunny yellow daffodils, white and purple tulips, showy pink hyacinths and pale pink cyclamen. And when the 90-degree heat wave (in March!) killed them all, I didn’t wait a day before going to the garden center to start sourcing their late spring replacements.

My entire kitchen, office and living room overlook my balcony, and while my pothos, monsteras, ficuses and ferns add a lovely array of greens to the space, these days I only have eyes for flowers.

Of course I had to research all of my spring and summer flower options within an inch of their life, and while you can absolutely get all the gardening information you need from the internet, I wanted my spring gardening to be guided by the Garden Mother herself, Martha Stewart. I had idealistic visions of a Julie-and-Julia moment— Martha as teacher, container garden as classroom. But it turns out that a zone 10b gardener cannot garden hand in hand with a zone 6 gardener because basically everything is completely different. So I did what any self-respecting Martha devotee would do. I picked up her first gardening book and her latest, read them side by side, took what I could apply to my garden, and wrote a substack about the rest.

Martha wrote her first gardening book, Martha Stewart’s Gardening Month by Month, in 1991— nine years after the famed Entertaining— from her six-acre Turkey Hill property, a scale I deeply relate to with my “urban jungle.” I mean, she had a rose border around her cut flower garden beds and I have a pretty big window box.

But scale be damned, because upon opening the book for the first time, I quickly realized I was there for the vibes. This book has Gael Towey’s influence all over it. The Creative Director of the Martha Stewart Living empire, and one of my personal special interests, has a signature warm, romantic style that is thankfully displayed generously throughout the book.

Martha spent four years creating this book. From the 19th-century-style sketch of Turkey Hill farm gracing the inside cover, complete with tiny accurate labels in perfect script, to the extensive bibliography on thick, creamy cardstock — the entire thing is beautiful. French botanical prints introduce every section, there are hundreds of stunning photos of her iconic gardens, and the introduction is truly heartfelt (it made me tear up). You really feel welcomed into her world. Always the hostess.

The book is organized in a straightforward way, January through December. January gets twelve pages and June gets eighty. Because that’s how gardening works and she wasn’t going to pretend otherwise.

Starting with the least photogenic month is something I don’t think you could get away with in 2026. But in 1991, Martha wasn’t trying to stop the scroll. She includes pictures of dead foliage and imperfect flowers when appropriate and it’s refreshing. Overall, she’s captured rather casually. She’s pruning, she’s raking, she’s kneeling in the dirt. Not polished, just gardening.

Of course Martha provides expert gardening information throughout the book, but it’s the imperfect and intimate nature of the writing that makes it so special. She notes her mistakes, like buckwheat hull mulch that didn’t work and sweet peas that got eaten by rabbits. She includes a small journal section in each chapter with seasonal to-dos and mini diary entries, noting that the garden is at its best in May so she must entertain every weekend, and her refusal to travel at all in June because the garden is in peak bloom.

She starts February by saying that meticulous seed planning is “still one of the most satisfying ways to spend one’s time,” and having just planned and planted my spring seeds, I’d have to agree.

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The real treasures are buried in the photo captions. Her favorite English gardens to visit near London (Hidcote, Upton House, Kew). Her favorite garden hoe (a heart hoe, naturally). The best example of this early peer-to-peer style is when she casually drops that Alexis, her daughter, is a vegetarian. To date, practically the most personal information we know about Alexis. Sips tea.

Thirty four years later, in March 2025, Martha published Martha Stewart’s Gardening Handbook. Her 101st book! I bought it the day it came out, obviously. Three hundred and sixty-eight pages of comprehensive, well-organized gardening instruction covering basically everything you could ever want to know. And next spring I’ll absolutely be creating the exact bulb lasagne technique that I learned in the container gardening section.

It’s also a completely different Martha.

Ever the serious teacher, she spends the whole first section of the book discussing native plants and their importance. You know, little things like removing carbon from the air, providing shelter and food for wildlife, and promoting biodiversity. And given the climate crisis we are in, I found that unsurprisingly responsible. She also taught me the word deciduous, which I will now be using at any opportunity.

The charm from Gardening Month by Month does surface occasionally in her niche advice, like a tip to always store garden tools in buckets of oiled sand or “play.” And the original Gael Towey aesthetic is referenced in her flatlays and styled floral photography.

But this is clearly a book written by Martha-as-brand, and (to my horror) the garden photos come from gardens all over the country with only a few from her Bedford farm sprinkled in. After over a hundred books, I don’t blame the queen for having a different tone. I guess I’ll just have to wait for her autobiography (which we know is currently in process) to get the personal angle I’m craving.

While Month by Month got the full notes-with-a-fountain-pen-in-my-leather-Paper-Republic treatment, the Handbook got a respectful skim.

Armed with Martha’s knowledge and my own obsessive research, I’m now aiming to create a fully designed, courtyard-like space on my balcony. My view is a lovely white wall, so I literally have a blank slate to fill. My inspiration boards are full of hanging baskets spilling over with lush florals, massive ceramic urns brimming with thrillers, fillers and spillers, and trellises covered in weaving vines.

The color palette I chose (after weeks of deliberation) is inspired by the “Dark and Rich” palette from Sarah Raven’s A Year Full of Pots, my new container gardening bible. Raven describes this palette as “the velvet colors you want to wrap yourself in.”

So far, I’ve planted an oversized antique style urn with golden rose begonias, blush calibrachoas, deep red petunias and silver dichondra trailing over the edge. The black window box with five scarlet African daisy plants lined up neatly in a row and a large vermillion abutilon (lantern plant). This week I picked up three fuchsia plug plants from Select Seeds' excellent selection of annuals that will soon have full, bell-shaped flowers. Of course, I need to acclimate the fuchsia to the balcony wind before potting them up in their black wire hanging basket. As you do. Finally, the most recent addition is four Rockapulco impatiens — a rosebush-looking shade plant, so that even my darkest corners can be full of blooms.

In everything I’ve learned thus far, I’ve used the “take what works and leave the rest” method to curate a gardening education from Martha, Sarah Raven, garden center plant tags, British strangers on Instagram, many panicked google searches, and my own trial and error.

If you need me from now until October I’ll be outside enjoying my 100 square feet for its own imperfect charm and potential for growth.

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My mental health is currently being held together by exactly nine Phalaenopsis orchids.

At the end of May, I had two. Now I have a collection and, let’s be honest, an obsession. It’s an orchid girl summer over here. Yes, I still love my houseplants and I’m still gardening through the chaos in my little balcony garden (I’m a millennial, after all), but these days? It’s all about the orchids.

In my defense, July is my birthday month, and my nervous system demands a steady stream of little treats just to stay regulated. Who am I to deny it? If I had to celebrate another year—against my will, and in this economy—we’re all lucky it’s just orchids.

The gateway drug was two Home Depot beauties (Romy and Michele). Then two more. Then I discovered I live five minutes from one of the best orchid nurseries in Los Angeles, and things escalated. Orchid Fever is one of the few places where the inner turmoil in my brain goes silent long enough for me to enjoy being alive. So yes, I’m a regular.

Once I’m in, I’m in. I need to know the players, the game, and the entire evolutionary backstory. I urgently need a comprehensive understanding of what I’m dealing with—what’s rare, what’s overrated, and what the bloom schedules are looking like. It’s completely unserious, but the emotional stakes are high. And while my other current sources of dopamine include Love Island and Formula 1, orchids are by far the most gorgeous. Which is why we’re here.

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Why I Love Orchids (And You Should Too)

Well—specifically—we’re talking about Phalaenopsis orchids. And in short? They barely need anything and they bloom for months.

But let’s go a little deeper: orchids are among the oldest flowering plants on Earth, and that ancient energy is exactly what I need to ground my home. Also, unlike most flowering houseplants that burn out after a few seasons, a Phalaenopsis under proper care can live 20–25 years.

Tell me where else you’re getting that kind of ROI on a $20 investment.

And while their lives are long, they cycle through periods of dormancy like clockwork. That cyclical rhythm feels deeply feminine. And in a world obsessed with constant output, orchids are a good reminder that rest is part of growth.

Truly, they hold space better than any therapist I know.

Orchids are always becoming—even when they appear to be doing nothing. Their stillness is not stagnation. It’s a kind of elegant endurance I’m trying to learn in my own nervous system.

When orchids bloom again, they wait for the right temperature, the right setting, the right vibe. They don’t rush to perform.

If you’ve ever felt slow, inconsistent, or behind, I offer you this: You’re not lazy—you’re in your orchid era. They’ll bloom again when they’re ready. And so will you.

Famous Orchid Lovers We Care About

Orchids seem to attract the emotionally high-maintenance and the taste-obsessed. And while I don’t love what that implies about me, I’m clearly in excellent company. Known orchid obsessives include Halston, Mapplethorpe, Noguchi, Georgia O’Keeffe, and Pauline de Rothschild. It makes sense. Orchids have an artist-like temperament: beautiful, finicky, a bit mysterious, and somehow surviving on almost nothing.

Things You Need to Be an Orchid Girl

Bright Light

A south-facing window is ideal, but any window where your orchid can see the sky will do. If you aren’t blessed with these conditions, just grab a cheap grow light off Amazon.

Water

Ideally filtered. Personally, my orchids drink exclusively ZeroWater because I enjoy the finer things in life and LA tap water is scary. But of course, they each get their own (very weak) cocktail. The ones in bloom get a literal drop of this for pest management, and the growing orchids get a few drops of this fertilizer.

Green roots? Hydrated. Silvery roots? Thirsty. It’s like a mood ring and it works.

Adorable Pots

All of my orchids live in clear orchid pots that provide ample airflow. Not only do these pots let you see the roots (a great health indicator), but they also create a uniform look—and best of all, you’re never locked into one “cache” or display pot.

The cache pot is just the outfit and accessories. The key is making sure it’s at least two inches bigger than your plant’s nursery pot. If needed, you can always boost the plant up with a drip tray or small container inside to get the right height. I love playing around with different pot styles. Some favorites include:

• Terracotta

  The classic choice. Whether traditional or something softer like grey, brown, or white, terracotta warms up any space. Plus, it naturally ages and develops mineral buildup over time—and then we’re in British greenhouse territory.

• Ceramics & Large Bowls

  These add a more traditional charm to your display. I prefer vintage finds on eBay or at thrift stores, but HomeGoods is also a great easy option. Right now I’m using some vintage chinoiserie planters and an old brass bowl from Target and I love the look.

• Kitchen Storage Canisters & Candle Jars

  Perfect for repurposing—especially polished copper canisters that will patina over time, and colored glass jars in greens and ambers.

• Large Glass Vases or Urns

  The only orchid that enjoyed my water culture experiments looks so chic in a massive ribbed glass urn. Michaels is my go to for this type of glassware.

Potting Medium

Orchid people are extreme. They remind me of the obsessive collectors and dealers I met managing consignments at Sotheby’s. There’s definitely overlap.

For example, I recently heard a prominent “orchid person” say that choosing a potting medium is “as personal as religion.” Ridiculous, but also kind of endearing. I’ve quickly learned there are a million ways to pot an orchid, and everyone swears their way is the way.

Personally? I have one core rule: don’t repot until all the flowers fall off.

Yes, the moss they come in is suspicious. But trust me—leave it alone until the bloom cycle ends. Then upgrade to a proper mix. After much trial and error (and hours on r/orchids), my go-to is: mostly orchid bark, with a handful of perlite and charcoal tossed in for airflow and drainage.

Orchid Style

I swear your orchid will grow better if it’s displayed beautifully. That’s just science. I recently moved one of mine from a crowded table to its own display shelf with soft lighting, and within a week it had two new blooms.

Also, I truly believe you shouldn’t just get one orchid. I like to buy them in pairs, but I think a minimum of three blooming at all times is best. Orchids are inherently luxurious—and what goes best with luxury? Abundance.

And of course, I only buy orchids with unopened buds. Because the joy of watching orchids bloom is one of the few joys we have left in life.

The Only Places I Buy Orchids

• Orchid Fever (Los Angeles, CA) – See above. My obsession. No online store, but the Culver City location is such a fun experience and totally worth the trip.

• Andy’s Orchids (Encinitas, CA) – For all your rare orchid desires. Specializes in tiny miniatures that will adorn my greenhouse one day. Also has a great online store.

• OrchidWeb (Online only) – Like the Nordstrom of orchids. High quality, great site, strong selection of elevated varieties.

• Trader Joe’s – I’m not above it!

• LA Orchid Exchange (Baton Rouge, LA) – Truly for collectors, and probably for people with more experience than me. But this is where you get rare orchids young. They’re cheaper, but you’ll wait years for a bloom. It’s a long game.

How to Learn More About Orchids

Social Media

• @OhioTropics and @MissOrchidGirl on Instagram and YouTube are a wealth of info.

• r/orchids for niche advice from people who are deep in it.

Books

• Understanding Orchids by William Cullina

• The Kew Gardener’s Guide to Growing Orchids by Philip Seaton

• Orchid Modern by Marc Hachadourian

Orchid Finds I Can’t Stop Thinking About

If you’re not ready for the responsibility but still want to engage with orchid culture, here are some vintage finds I’m obsessed with:

• This orchid pin makes me want to cry

• Someone needs to own these fab 1999 Versace orchid pants

• This gold orchid choker – say less

• This sweet scarf

And two non-vintage indulgences:

• This black leather bag charm that i personally find to be chic as hell

• This butter yellow orchid bikini top is actually screaming my name

If you catch me wearing a vintage orchid brooch like it’s the newest Labubu, you’ve been warned.

In all honesty, orchids have taught me a lot so far. About patience, beauty, and not rushing just because I’m uncomfortable with stillness. I don’t always know what’s coming next, but I can stay hydrated, face the light, and try to trust that something good is forming. Right?

And sure, I might be nine orchids deep with a wish list double the size. But there are worse coping mechanisms. At least this one’s beautiful.

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Past Lives, Present Plants

Yes, we're going there. And according to my intuitive medium, I have several. During my most recent quarterly check-in (it's LA, let me live), she dropped a very aligned bombshell: apparently, past-life-me was an herbalist and witch who healed her entire village with flower essences. Given my rather complicated karmic history, this is definitely my best past life yet. And I'm fully leaning into my botanical roots. Don't worry, this isn't a hard sell for DoTerra, I promise. Just a girl creating the indoor plant corner of her dreams.

Plant Parent Reality Check

With this new knowledge, the current state of my indoor and outdoor plants became unacceptable. Aesthetics had certainly overtaken ethics in my plant parenting. Turns out my lovely variegated pothos that looks so cute in a sunny hanging basket absolutely hates its life. And that's just the start. So, as the newly awakened and now conscientious plant mother that I am, I spent the past week with ChatGPT creating a detailed care plan for each of my twenty plants.

At first glance, my plant count seems ambitious for someone who admittedly has very few applicable skills. But some are doomed (lavender, RIP), others suspiciously unalive (looking at you, albuca "bulb"), and four are fresh arrivals justified entirely by retail therapy. Financially irresponsible? Maybe. Emotionally necessary? Absolutely.

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Serial Home Improver

I'm deep into another home-upgrade phase, systematically transforming every part of my apartment so it doesn't scream "backdrop of my latest crisis." Last time it was stained glass doors. This time, I'm moving to the opposite corner: a small spot of unrealized potential by my 8-foot windows. There's no grand reveal yet (sorry), but there's something deeply satisfying about channeling difficult emotions into meticulous planning, moodboarding, and plant hunting. The promise of progress I can control, an outcome I can almost guarantee. And right now, I'll take progress in any area of my life that I can get it.

Aesthetic Organization

In search of a way to manage this and all my various projects, I started looking into project management tools. Having done plenty of project management in a corporate past life, I knew exactly what I didn't want. I swore off Notion due to workplace trauma, Google products have always been lacking in vibes, and the last thing I need is some complicated tool meant for office settings. So what's a gal to do?

Enter Milanote: clean, intuitive, and refreshingly minimalistic. (Not sponsored, tragically.)

If you find Canva’s endless options exhausting, Milanote could be your minimalist bff. Exactly five clean fonts, essential tools only, and zero temptation to spiral into unnecessary graphic flourishes. Intentionally simple, deeply satisfying.

I've already mapped out boards for upcoming kitchen tweaks and a desk revamp. DIY addicts, consider yourselves enabled.

The 2AM Vision

The overall vibe of the space should be part editorial tableau, part lush botanical sanctuary. Here's a peek at the vision: sculptural silhouettes, artistic propagation setups, and as much vintage glassware as I can get my hands on.

Of course, the inspiration hit at 2am when my overactive brain loves to do its best work. I'm talking about dramatic height variation, unexpected textures, and a mix of plants that give aspirational yet attainable energy.

Speaking of the plants themselves, here are the divas who'll be calling it home:

Stars, They're Just Like Us

Bertha (Dracaena Massangeana): My actual rock. The first plant I purchased in LA over four years ago. Emotional attachment is an understatement. If anything ever happens to my low-maintenance queen, I won't be okay. Thank god this plant can't talk because she's seen some things. Bertha’s facecard never declines and i believe that in an alternative timeline she’s an Onlyfans star. Loves: Bright light, frequent compliments. Hates: Scorpios

Romy & Michele (Orchid Duo): Never to be outdone, these girls exude the unshakeable optimism and fashion-forward looks of their namesakes. They recently took a transfer to semi-hydroponic like it was just another party (meanwhile I'm waking up in the middle of the night checking on them). Loves: Chic glass vessels, the humidifier. Hates: Christie Masters

Bella Hadid (String of Hearts): Named for her supermodel stature, this girl must be highlighted because she just bloomed three flowers! I obviously cried. And then immediately gave her a bitchy bob and propagated ten strands in hopes of a future fuller plant. Loves: A refreshing mist, getting attached. Hates: The photoshoot we had today (paparazzi trauma, obviously).

Understanding my current plants’ personalities has me thinking about what’s missing from the family dynamic. Which brings me to my carefully curated wish list:

The list is long and growing by the day but, if i get my way, the jewel of my indoor garden will an orchid collection. Each one feels like a living sculpture and there are endless varieties and display options. The internet told me that growing orchids teaches patience and lord knows i need that.

Another plant i must highlight is the chocolate flower anthurium. It’s almost too decadent to be real. Bold, moody, and elegant, it will need a thought daughter-esque name. For now, though, I’m content to let these dreams live in Milanote while I perfect the art of keeping my current group thriving.

If you made it this far, you're probably as plant-obsessed as I am. Thanks for reading and feel free to send this to someone who needs permission to buy that monstera they've been eyeing.

Now if you'll excuse me, I have seven new propagations to obsess over and a snake plant that's probably judging my life choices from its new LECA home.

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Coming to you live from a bit of a chronic fatigue flare (it’s always something). So this week, we're introducing Lamp Posts - shorter, more frequent aesthetic memos straight from my brain to your inbox without ten rounds of editing.

Personally, I really need a pick-me-up, and my vintage magazine collection never lets me down. Today we're diving into an assortment of beautiful spring layouts from the April/May 1992 issue of Martha Stewart Living. No matter what the weather is where you are, these rich visuals are sure to transport you to an idyllic, sun-drenched East Coast spring.

After flipping through this magazine at least fifty times, I'm already planning a deep dive into the magazine's art director, Gael Towey. (Spoiler alert: Towey’s website is a treasure trove of layout inspo from her 20+ year career at Martha Stewart Living.)

Last month, I mentioned that I was watching season one of Martha Stewart Living. I’m now halfway through season three and here’s what I’ve learned: the content of the show tends to mirror the magazine. Martha was a content distribution genius before most of us even knew what multi-channel meant. She was already doing what today’s social media “gurus” preach: say one thing, post it everywhere, tailor it to the platform.

I don't know why I find the lo-fi version of this strategy so fascinating? Maybe because we don't need to reinvent the wheel as much as we think we do?

Regardless, thanks to her flawless communication strategy, I am now an expert at forcing hyacinths, polishing silver, and trompe l'oeil furniture painting1. If only Martha taught personal finance...

If you need me, I'll be polishing my thrifted silver clamshell serving tray until it gleams with the false promise of control!

Grab a seasonal beverage, take a deep breath of spring air, and enjoy.

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A tulip spread that should be in a museum2:

I’m sorry but that took my breath away.

This reminds me of Stacy Greene’s lipstick portraits.

No notes.

I absolutely love this charmingly clunky layout. It’s light yet awkward and I can’t stop looking at it? It wouldn’t get an A in graphic design class and that is exactly why I love it.

Everything else that caught my eye:

Maybe it’s that early 90’s optimism, but each image has that specific spring feeling you can somehow feel through the page. Light, hopeful, a little over the top. But per usual, Martha said it best in her Letter from the Editor:

“This is the setting in which to enjoy the company of friends and the tastes of spring’s delicate harvest.”

See you next time for another trip into the visual archive. Until then, treat yourself to something beautiful - you know you need it.

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The algorithm made me do it

If you’ve flipped through Architectural Digest this month or fallen down a Pinterest rabbit hole recently, you’ve seen it: stained glass, the mid‑century kaleidoscopic daydream, is back. Not in that sad church basement way, but in that impossibly photogenic, influencer apartment in Copenhagen way that makes you question all your previous life choices and paint selections.

My 10 foot tall bedroom doors volunteered as tribute the moment I watched @wantzamora on instagram put removable faux leadlines onto a window. A few clicks later, Amazon cart overflowing with window film and Gallery Glass, I’d committed.

The camera roll knew first

Digging through old photos, I noticed stained glass captured on past trips and museum visits—little colorful breadcrumbs my brain collected before I could articulate why. Usually I plan a DIY project within an inch of its life but this time was urgent. I skipped the research phase entirely, desperate to begin.

The craft is the therapy

I started this project in the aftermath of a devastating medication reaction I actually thought was the end. Something meant to help instead created a darkness so profound I couldn't recognize myself in it. Unable to face the mess it had made of my brain and nervous system, I needed this project to focus on.

I made up the pattern as I went along, picking colors and changing the look on impulse. No plans, just vibes. It helped that I was working with materials I'd never used before. They are user-friendly, almost foolproof. The process demanded focus on tons of little details, each one pulling me out of rumination and deeper into the present moment.

What I didn't realize at the time was that I was unconsciously processing the trauma using a medium with a history I knew little about. Just casually participating in centuries of tradition.

The color is emotional

Stained glass isn't just pretty, it's quite literally playing with your brain chemistry. When colors interact with natural light, which constantly shifts throughout the day and seasons, stained glass windows create ever-changing environmental experiences. That dynamic quality combined with the way the eye processes transmitted light1, fundamentally changes how viewers respond. Thus the medium is often associated with renewal, transformation, or spiritual healing. And if anyone needs those things, it's your girl. As in all color theory, red energizes, blue calms, green recalibrates.

TLDR: I now have instant dopamine, no screen required.

The apartment needed it

Once the doors were finished, everything else looked grayscale in comparison. Like when you finish a five star book and everything you try to read after is just a disappointment.

I used my special project strength (the same strength that lets mothers lift cars off their children) to rearrange every piece of furniture in my apartment. I even invited a previously forbidden color, red, back into my palette. When Martha said she hated red I took that to heart and hated it too. As you do with the opinions of the original influencer.

The history is important (and short)

Medieval cathedrals used stained glass to turn daylight into theology. Victorians revived it as an antidote to industrial modernity. Art Nouveau introduced organic shapes in lifelike hues. Modern movements used abstract geometry and free‑form color fields to give glass an optimistic glow. Each revival solves for the same need: humanity, originality. In an era of algorithmic everything, no wonder the trend is back. “Alexa, play nature.”

The process is the point

When I thought the project was done, something about it still felt unresolved. I went back in with clear faux stained glass between each colored pane—a subtle addition most people wouldn't notice, but one that tied everything together in a way that felt right.

It's not perfect. Dust under the window film, crooked leadlines, haphazard gallery glass application, to name a few. But I'm way too busy watching jewel-toned squares transform my ceiling to care.

These feel like healing metaphors but I truly can't stomach it right now (with an intensity I usually reserve for songs by Chris Brown).

What I will say is: we don’t create beauty because we’re healed; we create it because we’re trying to be.

While the doors are complete, my healing process is not. But, they glow anyway.

That’s it for this edition of The Moodboard. Until next time, I’ll keep the light on.

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📸 Explore the full visual archive for this essay.

April was...complex. Mentally, I've kept it together, but only by creating a bubble around myself. Kris Jenner works hard, but my PTSD works harder—so I'm treating myself with kid gloves, carefully choosing who and what gets into my space right now.

I've cut out probably 90% of my media consumption, news, socials, really anything that spikes my cortisol. In this protective state, I'd happily never see any of it again. But media consumption is such a deep part of who I am, so complete avoidance was never going to work. I’m happy to say I’ve finally moved from mourning to discovering and revisiting forms of media and other activities that are actually beneficial to me.

Before sharing the good stuff, I should say that Substack and all of you deserve a spot on this list too. Thank you for being here. It means more than you know.

And now...

April's Gorgeous Dopamine Boosts:

1. Vintage Architectural Digests

I've always been a magazine girl, from Highlights and American Girl to Nylon and Artforum. Magazines once covered my walls and, at one point, were a legitimate line item in my (very tiny) budget. In recent years I've drifted away as my media consumption moved exclusively online. But, we're back, baby!

I’m currently working my way through four Architectural Digests from 1979 (1988 is next) and savoring every moment. They truly don’t make things like they used to. The nostalgia feels comforting, certain, and safe. And honestly, when the future feels uncertain, looking to the past makes sense as everything is cyclical. I've probably just never had the time and space to really lean into that before? But I’ve got nothing but time right now so lean in we shall.

Here are a few important images I need you to see:

If you too want to reject reality (and honestly, who doesn't?), I highly recommend purchasing from this seller I can vouch for on eBay, though I'm sure there are many great ones.

2. Ambiance TV

This is not a new obsession but it continues to become more pronounced.

Are you alone with your thoughts all the time? Are you neurospicy and need an elite background vibe to get anything done? Do you need some peace in your home? Let me talk to you about ambiance TV on YouTube. It's a lifestyle.

I'm not ashamed to say that throughout my day I curate my visual and sound experience on my TV based on my mood, time of day, weather, etc. Let me walk you through an example day:

Morning: Relaxing jazz at the sunny lakeside cafe
Afternoon: Bossa nova and crashing waves in Positano
Night: Ambient nordic living room under the northern lights with fireplace ASMR

Are you getting it now? It takes anything you're doing and elevates it—and that is all I care about. Because otherwise the nervous system is not happy. And if the nervous system isn't happy, no one is happy.

Try it.

3. Adding color to my apartment

Not revolutionary but I'm really embracing spring this year and it's been good for my attitude. I’ve added a few colorful accents to my apartment that are really helping things feel light and renewed.

For the past five years, I've only wanted neutrals in my apartment so embracing color has been a nice change. This target tablecloth is adorable and only $20. It brings so much life to my kitchen area and ties in another colorful project that I'm sharing this weekend (stay tuned!!). My balcony floor is normally chipped painted grey concrete so, as you can imagine, anything is an improvement but I've never had anything this colorful out here! Love.

4. Butter Yellow

Speaking of color!

Two weeks ago we talked about tomato’s influence on culture and here again we see the simplest of foods, butter, elevated to high fashion. Personally, I love this creamy, warm color and it looks great on me, so I'm in.

Loved for its inherent positivity, we started seeing the color pop up on runways in 2022 and now butter yellow is the KitchenAid color of the year. But let’s be real, the reference point that lives rent-free in everyone’s mind? Andie Anderson’s backless yellow dress in How to Lose a Guy in 10 Days.

If you’re looking for a buttery moment, I love this cozy transitional sweater, this bag that I can only dream about, and this adorable spring wedding guest dress.

5. Caramel-Colored Nails

To close the loop on the food aesthetics conversation, my newest obsession is carmel nails. Most certainly meant to be a fall color, you can get this look with korean jelly polish. The rich yet light amber color is a fun transition to lighter spring tones and will be a go to in September. This is the closest color match I could find to what I got.

Honorable Mention:

Tiny Taper Candles

I’ve discovered these tiny taper candles that are basically like really long birthday candles or prayer candles. They burn for 75 minutes and make the chicest timer! Perfect for focused work, cleaning, etc. This pack comes with a holder and you can get other holders here. They are adorable, don’t drip or make a mess, and create lovely contrast when mixed in with my other candles.

Thanks for joining me on our first month of dopamine hunting. Hope something here sparked joy for you too. Until next time, I’ll keep the light on.

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Today we are talking about my current favorite hobby: thrifting. Los Angeles just happens to be thrifting heaven, and I didn’t even start exploring it until I’d lived here for over four years. So, we’re making up for lost time.

The following may not be the most utilitarian objects, but I assure you, they are doing the real work by giving me small, daily hits of joy.

Wedgwood Pink Jasperware Ashtray

Look: Technically an ashtray, she now functions as a display pedestal for jewelry, a tealight, or the one vitamin I can actually commit to.

Feel: The kind of compassion I reserve for foster puppies. You’re telling me someone put burning ash in this little masterpiece? Absolutely not. Bonus: the matte blush and white relief detailing feels like a Wes Anderson prop in the best way.

Love: Fun, fancy, and frivolous. This piece kicked off my interest in collecting based on feeling over logic.

Source: BTS Thrift, hands down my favorite LA thrift store. They expect you to negotiate pricing—which, for someone who spent years working in auction houses and the secondary art market, is the ultimate dopamine boost. If you go, bring cash and don’t be afraid to make an offer, they’re surprisingly open.

Royal Wessex Calico Transferware Plate

Look: This was technically my second blue floral plate, which means i’ve officially started a collection. They’re on display for now, but the end goal is a full set of mismatched vintage blue-and-white dishes.

Feel: The thrill of a deal plus core memory nostalgia—I grew up in an indigo Le Creuset household.

Love: Beautiful, nostalgic, and shockingly microwave and dishwasher safe. The bold pattern gives quiet maximalist, and instantly turns a snack into a still life.

Source: Poshmark, which has quickly become my secret vintage homeware source. You have to be willing to search often and endure the UI, but if you do, you’ll find a seriously underrated home section with quality pieces that are usually cheaper than their ebay counterparts. Shipping is capped, and sellers are either very motivated or don’t know what they have.

Woven Rattan Basket Purse

Look: Part purse, part storage, part lifestyle fantasy. It adds shape and texture to my bookshelf while tying in other rattan accents.

Feel: The British countryside. Or a grandmother’s knitting basket.

Love: One day this will come with me to the flower market. For now, it holds my very important ribbon collection, which I did take the time to sort and rank.

Source: The Council Shop. If you’re in LA, they’re having a 50% off sale this week—furniture on 4/24 and art on 4/25. See you there.

Vintage Art Books

Look: Will I read them? Probably not. But the covers are iconic, the imagery is stunning, and the spines are display-worthy. They work everywhere, on a coffee table, under a lamp, as a pedestal for candlesticks, the list goes on.

Feel: Like I should be climbing a rolling ladder in an old-timey library.

Love: I’m obsessed with the idea of building an aesthetic reference library. No dust jackets allowed. Only editions worth displaying. Buying new would be absurd, and I like that these have lived a life already. And yes, I love the smell of old books.

Source: The Council Shop (again). Several were mismarked and sold to me for $2.99 each. Pricing is tighter now, but the book section is solid and way less overwhelming than a dedicated secondhand bookstore.

Hot tip: I look for books with full-page color plates I can cut out and frame (my go-to art hack since undergrad art history days).

If you liked this, tell me your favorite recent thrift find or your dream vintage score. I always need more things to hunt for!

See you next week. I’ll keep the light on.

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Earlier this month, I fell down a tomato leaf-scented rabbit hole.

It started with a candle from HomeGoods—as many good things do. Just a trendy little treat for $15.99. I didn’t buy it because it was the most transformative thing I’d ever smelled, but because it gave me somewhere to go.

A few hours and twenty browser tabs later, by the light (and aroma) of my new candle, I’d surfaced from a deep dive into all things tomato leaf culture. I learned the word trichomes, read articles about former Loewe director Jonathan Anderson’s cultural impact, discovered Erwin Fontin’s dramatic botanical photos, fell into poetic essays on scent memory, and rounded it all out with a surprisingly thorough history of tomato leaf as a fragrance note.

It was the first time in months I’d wanted to learn about something for no reason other than sheer curiosity.

Naturally, it became a moodboard:

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The fact that we’re here at all feels... unexpected. I have never experienced a “Tomato Girl Summer” and have a general ambivalence towards tomatoes—let alone smelling like them. But when your interest in anything has been absent for what feels like forever, you take the opportunity and run with it.

Of course I had to legitimize the whole thing with a quote from my current read, The Creative Act: A Way of Being:

“The ability to look deeply is the root of creativity. To see past the ordinary and the mundane and get to what might otherwise be invisible.” - Rick Rubin

Down the Rabbit Hole

So, the "tomato leaf" scent? It comes from the tiny hairs on the plant's stems and leaves—trichomes—which release green leaf volatiles: aldehydes and alcohols that smell vividly alive. Slightly bitter, warm, peppery, green.

What I love about this scent is that it’s not trying too hard. It’s nostalgic without being too sweet, clean without being sterile. It’s the kind of candle that reminds you to, ironically, go outside. Maybe even to keep going.

If you’ve been craving something grounding lately, this might be your scent.

Tomato leaf first appeared in the ‘90s with Demeter’s cult-favorite Tomato, which was more niche than a crowd-pleaser. Through the 2000s, it quietly grounded fragrances from luxury retailers like L’Artisan Parfumeur, Diptyque, and Hermès.

But it wasn’t until 2020 that it really caught on. Suddenly, collectively, we craved everything real in response to our isolated worlds, and Tomato leaf didn’t smell like perfume; it smelled like summer gardens and farmers’ markets.

Loewe understood the assignment. Their 2020 Tomato Leaves launch—was iconic, and nearly edible.

Since then, everyone from Flamingo Estate to your local grocery store has offered their interpretation. It’s everywhere. Quietly supporting the collective nervous system— connecting us to something fresh, stable, and reliable.

We all know scent is powerful. I mean, one whiff of Clinique Happy and I’m back in my childhood bedroom, getting ready to go to the mall with my best friend. A full-body memory of feeling “cool.”

Following the Scent

Maybe your current thread isn’t tomato leaves. Maybe it’s hydrangeas, a specific color palette, or an outfit from White Lotus. Whatever it is—can I suggest following it? It’s quite fun.

Falling down a low-stakes rabbit hole of scent and symbolism simply because I could. Something I could research, collect, and try to understand. A beautiful distraction.

This is why I’ve always loved trends. They offer a constant invitation to explore topics you might never otherwise consider, a sense of direction when you don’t already have one (capitalist hellscape implications acknowledged, of course).

But that’s the point of all this. A trend, a candle, a scent—it doesn’t have to mean everything. But sometimes, it can mean enough. Enough to pull you through the week.

I’d love to know—what’s a recent aesthetic fixation you’ve had?

That’s it for this week’s The Moodboard. Back next week with more obsessions, textures, and little lifelines.
See you next week. I’ll keep the light on.

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📸 Explore the full visual archive for this essay.

Let’s just be honest from the start. This page is the result of a depressive episode and some strongly worded advice from my therapist to start taking my creativity seriously again. So here we are, in a space to discuss my favorite things, aesthetics, and culture.

I’m thinking a bit of art and style, a lot of escapism, and a consistent reminder that beautiful things will still happen—even if you’re too depressed to get out of bed right now. Above all, you can be assured this is a safe space (unless you don’t like the combination of black & navy together or refuse to mix metals).

And without further ado, here are 3 things that made me feel something this week:

These sandals reminded me that i know how to dress myself

I actually got myself these silver cage sandals from Theory for my birthday two years ago. As a July baby, I pictured them with sundresses and outdoor dinners. Well, I wore them once, hated the outfit, and exiled them to the back of my closet.

But this week, while trying to pull together a look for a casual, creative event, I paired them with my favorite Madewell wide-leg, medium-rinse jeans—and suddenly they made sense. The problem wasn’t the shoes. It was user error. From the Poshmark chopping block to the front of the shoe shelf they go. I’ve already planned three more outfits around them.

A little reminder to hold my vision lightly and embrace the unexpected. And yes, we LOVE a shop-your-closet moment.

This show is better than xanax

This is not a drill—you need to get yourself to a Roku immediately. I recently discovered that every season of Martha Stewart Living, going all the way back to 1993, is streaming on Roku TV, and it is pure serotonin.

I’m still on season one, savoring every perfectly framed shot of the original influencer in her prime. Talk about peak lifestyle content. When I grow up, I want to be Martha in the nineties. Definitely more to come on this one.

These flowers made me cry

It’s flower season, and if you want major inspiration, look no further than @punipetals. I attended her most recent arranging pop-up, and it was genuinely magical.

As someone whose usual floral routine involves Trader Joe’s and mild delusion, I was shocked by what I managed to create. And okay, I promise this isn’t just an excuse to show off—but come on. My baby is a star.

She offered tips (chickenwire > flower frog; feed your arrangements simple syrup to make them last!) and light structure, but was otherwise hands off, preferring to discuss the ephemeral nature of flowers and her adorably heady ethos of arranging. The airy indoor-outdoor layout, filtered light, and communal tables felt like the kind of creative sanctuary I didn’t know I needed.

For two hours, we dropped into flow state and walked away with clear heads, calm nervous systems, and plenty of compliments as we carried our arrangements to the car.

The spring air makes this kind of tactile, organic experience feel especially necessary right now. 10/10 would recommend—a grounding way to connect with nature, beauty, and yourself.

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If you liked this, you might like what’s coming next. I’m working on moodboards, a surprisingly emotional DIY, and remain in search of the perfect butter yellow bag. Subscribe if you want your inbox to feel less like a to-do list and more like a beautifully lit lifeline.