Savoring simple daily pleasures

Lately, I’ve found myself paring things back. Not just in my wardrobe, but across the board—my beauty routine, the products I clean with, even the shoes I lace up every morning. There’s been a slow but steady pull toward less noise, fewer chemicals, and more integrity. It’s not about minimalism in a stark or trendy sense—it’s about embracing simplicity that feels considered, timeless, and genuinely nourishing.

It’s quiet luxury.
Not flashy logos, not trend-chasing, not fast anything. Just texture. Fit. Comfort. Quality. Sustainability. And above all, a sense of calm.

Clothing: Rediscovering the Essentials

In my wardrobe, that means rediscovering well-made basics—pieces that breathe, move, and last. Soft cottons, natural wools, relaxed tailoring. Linen that wrinkles in the right way. Silhouettes that feel elegant without trying too hard. I’ve been leaning into brands that focus on craftsmanship over marketing, whose pieces speak in soft neutrals and impeccable details rather than shouting for attention.

Whether it’s casual summer layers, elevated athleticwear, or just the perfect plain tee, I’m asking more from the things I buy. Does it feel good on the skin? Does it fit in a way that supports movement, not restricts it? Can I see myself wearing it five years from now?

That’s where my attention is going now. Longevity is the new luxury.

Footwear: From Aesthetic to Ergonomic

I recently listened to a podcast on foot health and it really clicked—our feet, the foundation of everything we do, are so often neglected. I walk everywhere: commuting to work, running errands, weekend hikes, long golf days. I’ve always appreciated a well-constructed shoe, but now I’m seeking out designs that are ergonomic, not just stylish.

Brands like Vivobarefoot are on my radar now—stripping back unnecessary cushioning and offering footwear that lets your feet move the way they were designed to. It’s about function with form—support, mobility, materials that breathe. Athletic gear that doesn’t scream for attention but supports your life, quietly and effectively.

Beauty: Tallow and the Wisdom of Grandmothers

In my beauty cabinet, the shift is similar. I just ordered locally made tallow skincare—something I never thought I’d try (who wants to smell like a roast dinner?). But honestly, there’s wisdom in the old ways. Our grandmothers knew how to care for skin with what was available, natural, and effective.

Tallow is rich in nutrients, deeply moisturizing, and incredibly healing—especially for those of us trying to simplify our routines and avoid the chemical-laden potions that promise miracles but rarely deliver. It’s back to basics. Skin care that feels wholesome.

The same goes for cleaning products—vinegar, castile soap, essential oils. No harsh smells, no unpronounceable ingredients. Just clean, in every sense of the word.

A More Grounded Kind of Luxury

This isn’t about going off-grid or swearing off modernity. It’s about choosing differently, tuning into what actually feels good, lasting, and real. It’s about a lifestyle that supports the body, calms the mind, and respects the earth.

It’s about elegant restraint.

Where less isn’t just more—it’s better.

If you’re feeling the same pull—to simplify, to refine, to come back to what really matters—this quiet luxury movement may be for you too. It’s not loud, but it’s powerful. And it starts with the smallest shifts: in your shoes, your skincare, your everyday staples.

A Few Brands & Finds on My Radar:

• Vivobarefoot – ergonomic, minimal footwear with a cult following for a reason

• Christy Dawn, ASKET, Pangaia – brands with a commitment to sustainability and understated beauty

• Local Tallow Skincare – wholesome, ancestral, surprisingly chic

• Everlane (for elevated basics)

• WE-AR, Ethical yoga inspired clothing

• Blueland or Skipper– low-waste, clean cleaning products

• Marlow- Premium athleisurewear; simple, sleek and effortless

• ALEXANDRA- A Melbourne-based brand embracing unstructured silhouettes and soft lines

  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  

Quiet luxury isn't about having less—it's about having less, better. And that feels like a luxury worth investing in.

“It’s not about the dress you wear, but about the life you live in that dress.”

This quote lingers like a quiet truth. It reminds us that what we choose to wear isn't just fabric—it’s a reflection of how we move through the world, how we feel, and how we want to live. A dress can empower, ground, uplift, or stifle us, not because of its cut or cost, but because of the energy we bring to it—and the energy it gives back.

The same can be said of how we eat, move, rest, think, and live.

We’re slowly waking up to the reality that less can be more—not in a minimalist, cold way, but in a deeply nourishing one. Just as you might step into a simple linen dress and feel immediately more yourself—freer, softer, clearer—you can apply that same principle to every part of your lifestyle.

Food: From Packets to Plants

Our diets, like our wardrobes, can become cluttered. Over-processed, over-complicated, and disconnected from what our bodies really need. When we pare back—fewer packets, more produce—we begin to feel more like ourselves again. We notice how food makes us feel, not just how it tastes. Wholefoods nourish more than just our bodies—they nourish our presence, energy, and emotional stability.

Eating this way isn’t a trend. It’s a return. A quiet rebellion against diet culture, fast food, and the idea that food must be convenient above all else. It’s about cooking with care, eating with awareness, and fueling a life that feels intentional.

Beauty: Less Masking, More Radiance

Just as with food, beauty routines can become performative. But when we approach beauty as an extension of wellness rather than a mask, everything changes. We’re not chasing youth or perfection—we're honoring the skin we’re in. We’re choosing products that nourish us, not just chemically but energetically. Fewer steps, cleaner ingredients, deeper results.

Movement: Inhabiting Your Body Fully

You don’t need the fanciest gear or the trendiest workouts. Movement is about being in your body—walking with purpose, stretching with gratitude, dancing for no reason at all. The goal isn’t to shrink or sculpt, but to move energy, to feel alive, to embody presence.

Home: A Sacred Reflection

Your home should feel like a deep exhale. Furnishing it thoughtfully, filling it with natural textures, soft light, and meaningful objects isn't about design perfection—it’s about resonance. A beautiful home holds you. It reminds you of who you are. It supports the life you’re building.

Sleep: The Silent Healer

We glorify hustle, but the true magic happens when we rest. A good night’s sleep isn’t a luxury—it’s foundational. When we prioritize quality rest—turning off devices, cooling the room, slowing the mind—we set ourselves up for better decisions, clearer thoughts, and calmer days.

Mental Diet: What You Consume Matters

What you read, watch, and listen to becomes part of your inner world. Are your books nourishing your curiosity? Do your favorite shows leave you feeling depleted or inspired? Are the podcasts you queue up building you or draining you?

Mindful consumption isn’t just about what’s on your plate. It’s also about what you feed your mind and soul.

Clothing: Second Skin, First Statement

Coming full circle, the clothes you wear are often the first expression of your inner world. Do they support your lifestyle? Do they let you breathe, move, feel like you? When we simplify our wardrobes to reflect who we are rather than who we think we should be, getting dressed becomes a ritual, not a routine.

Living a Whole Life

When we step back, it becomes clear: it’s not about the one choice—it’s about how that choice supports the life we want to live.

The dress is just a dress, yes.
But how do you feel in it?
What kind of life do you lead in it?

The same goes for your meals, your skincare, your home, your habits. It’s all connected. Each piece is a thread in the larger tapestry of your wellbeing.

So start small. Simplify one area. Choose presence over perfection. And remember—this isn’t about restriction or aesthetic. It’s about returning to yourself.

One nourishing choice at a time.

 Savoring simple daily pleasures

There’s a special kind of thrill that hits just before the sun rises — when the world is still stretching, and the day hasn’t quite begun its usual noise. It’s quiet. But not empty. It’s charged. There’s energy in the air, the kind that turns your stomach in the best way — like you’re about to do something bold and beautiful, even if all you're doing is making coffee and watching the sky change color.

I never used to notice that.

Back then, mornings were something I endured. Waking up wasn’t a beginning — it was a recovery. I’d squint at the light, try to remember how the night ended, and wade through a fog thick with regret, shame, and dehydration. The simplest pleasures — crisp sheets, a good cup of coffee, even a sunrise — were lost in that haze. Blurred out. Drowned beneath the hum of a hangover and the weight of yesterday’s decisions.

But everything changed when I decided to look at life from a different angle — without alcohol. Not just quitting drinking, but choosing to live awake.

And in this version of life, the joy is subtle but steady. It’s in the things I once overlooked.

It’s the silhouette of trees before dawn, like delicate ink sketches against a softening sky. It’s the electric flutter in my belly as the day tiptoes in — not anxiety, not dread — but anticipation. It’s the way my cats rumbles like  engines when I climb into bed at 9 p.m. with a book and clean sheets. It's knowing I’ll wake up clear. And ready.

There’s a kind of magic in reclaiming your mornings. In discovering that peace doesn't come from numbing the world, but from noticing it.

Sobriety hasn’t dulled my life — it’s sharpened it. Colors are more vivid, flavors deeper, connections more real. And that first sip of good coffee in the quiet of an early morning? That’s a high I’ll never trade again.

Because this isn’t about missing out. It’s about waking up — for real this time.

And I’m so grateful I did.

I used to be aware of these pleasures — the morning light, the scent of fresh sheets, the quiet joy of a deep purring cat — but they were dulled. Blurred behind a veil. Clouded by a hangover of some degree — sometimes faint, sometimes crushing — but always there, shadowing the edges of joy, numbing both the highs and the lows.

Since stepping into sobriety, I’ve become so much less pessimistic and reactive. Calmer. Kinder, even — to others and to myself.

This past weekend, my husband came off his bike. I didn’t see the fall, but I knew something was wrong the moment he returned — limping slightly, torn kit, and that tight, pained expression that says “I’m fine” but means anything but.

We’ve been together for over twenty years, and — being the kind of chap who rides bikes daily — there have been a few crashes over the years. But this time, I noticed how differently I responded. No anger. No panic. No spiraling into frustration or emotional volatility. Just presence. Compassion. Steadiness.

Our daughters noticed that shift in me early on. Not long into my sobriety, one of them casually mentioned that I wasn’t a “shouty mummy” anymore. That one landed deep. Kids don’t filter or flatter — they tell the truth. And mine were seeing a new version of me emerge before I could fully recognize her myself.

Now, I don’t just get through the day — I live it. Fully. I’m no longer clawing my way through hours, waiting for the first socially acceptable sip of wine at 5 p.m. — or earlier, if I could justify it. I’m thriving. I’m productive, focused, and free from the mental gymnastics of negotiating with myself about drinking.

And with that clarity has come a shift in how I view society, too. I see more clearly now how many of us are sold the idea that money equals power equals success — and that happiness is the natural outcome of that equation. But it’s not. True contentment isn’t something you buy. It’s not a handbag, a promotion, or the perfect dinner party. And it certainly isn’t found at the bottom of a bottle.

Happiness, for me, now lives in small, honest moments. In being present. In feeling the weight of my daughter's hand in mine. In meeting a crisis with calm. In the sunrise. The stillness. The silence. The space.

No, there are no happy endings in alcohol. But there are countless new beginnings without it.

And I’m living one of them now.