The Little Luxuries That Make an Ordinary Day Better

There is a rather persistent idea that luxury belongs to special occasions.

The expensive restaurant.

The beautiful hotel.

The bottle we've been saving.

The dress that apparently requires somewhere sufficiently important to wear it.

But most of our lives aren't made up of special occasions.

They're made up of Tuesdays.

Normal, ordinary, slightly chaotic Tuesdays when the washing machine is on, somebody needs replying to, dinner needs thinking about and we're fairly certain we only just emptied the dishwasher.

And perhaps those are exactly the days that deserve a little luxury too.

Not necessarily the expensive kind.

Just the tiny things that make us stop for a moment and think:

Oh. That's nice.

Use the good things

Most of us have them.

The good towels.

The nice glasses.

The candle we're reluctant to light because once we light it, eventually there will be no candle.

The beautiful notebook we've owned for three years because apparently none of our thoughts have yet been important enough for page one.

We're remarkably good at saving lovely things for some imaginary future occasion.

But here's the problem:

today is one of the days we were saving them for.

Put the nice sheets on the bed.

Drink your squash out of the fancy glass if you want to.

Write the shopping list in the beautiful notebook.

Light the candle.

Things don't become more precious because we never use them.

Sometimes their real value is in becoming part of our everyday lives.

Make something ordinary feel a little less ordinary

You don't need to change the whole day.

Change five minutes of it.

Put your lunch on a plate instead of eating it over the kitchen counter.

Take your drink outside.

Put some music on while you're cooking.

Use a proper glass.

Cut a few flowers from the garden and put them in a little vase.

Take the long way home because the view is nicer.

None of these things is particularly significant.

That's rather the point.

They're tiny interruptions to autopilot.

Little reminders that we're actually here for the day we're living, rather than simply getting through it.

Create tiny rituals

There is something comforting about having little moments you can rely on.

Perhaps it's opening the curtains first thing and standing at the window for a minute.

Reading before bed.

Putting music on while you make dinner.

Lighting a candle when the evening begins.

Going outside to check what's growing in the garden.

Buying flowers on a Friday.

These don't have to become elaborate self-care routines involving seventeen products and a timetable.

They're simply little signals that say:

this part of the day is mine.

And sometimes five minutes of that is quite enough.

Wear the perfume

You know the one.

The perfume you save for going somewhere.

Wear it to Tesco.

Wear the earrings.

Use the lovely handbag.

Put on the lipstick even though you're working from home and the only person likely to see you is the delivery driver.

We're often surprisingly reluctant to enjoy things unless there is an audience.

But liking how something makes you feel is reason enough.

You don't need plans.

You don't need permission.

And you definitely don't need a dinner reservation.

Make your surroundings nice for you

We often make an extraordinary effort when other people are coming over.

Suddenly the cushions are arranged.

The bathroom has the good hand towel.

A candle appears.

Flowers are placed on the table.

Every mysterious object that normally lives on the kitchen worktop is swept into a cupboard approximately four minutes before the doorbell rings.

Which raises a question:

Why do the visitors get all the nice things?

You live there.

Put the flowers out for yourself.

Make the bed because you love walking back into the room later.

Arrange the cushions if it makes the sofa more inviting.

Light the candle even though nobody is coming.

Your home isn't only somewhere you host other people.

It's where your life happens.

Give yourself something to look forward to

Luxury can also be anticipation.

And it doesn't have to be a holiday or an expensive night out.

It could be deciding that Saturday morning you're going to wander around the garden centre.

Saving an episode of something you love for Friday night.

Planning a walk somewhere beautiful.

Choosing what you're going to read next.

Making your favourite dinner.

Having absolutely nothing planned on Sunday afternoon.

Tiny things on the horizon can make surprisingly difficult weeks feel more manageable.

Sometimes happiness isn't the big event.

It's knowing there's a slice of cake waiting in the fridge when you get home.

Five quiet minutes count

Not every lovely moment needs to be productive.

This one can be surprisingly difficult.

We're so accustomed to filling gaps that five unexpected minutes usually become five minutes of scrolling, checking messages or remembering something else we should be doing.

But occasionally...

Do nothing.

Sit in the garden.

Look out of the window.

Finish your drink while it's still the temperature it was supposed to be.

Listen to a piece of music without doing anything else at the same time.

Read two pages.

Watch the rain.

Five minutes isn't going to transform your life.

It doesn't need to.

It can simply make those five minutes nicer.

And that's enough.

Stop waiting for special

Perhaps that's really what all of this comes down to.

We're very good at postponing pleasure.

We'll wear it when...

We'll use it when...

We'll open it when...

We'll go there when...

We'll enjoy ourselves properly when everything else is sorted.

Except everything is rarely completely sorted.

There will always be another email.

Another load of washing.

Another job.

Another ordinary Tuesday.

So perhaps luxury doesn't have to mean extravagance at all.

Perhaps it's simply choosing, every now and then, to make the day you're already having a little lovelier.

Use the good glass.

Buy yourself the flowers.

Sit outside for ten minutes.

Wear the perfume.

Eat the nice chocolate.

Light the candle.

Because ordinary days aren't the bits between the important ones.

Ordinary days are our lives.

And that seems like a very good reason to make something lovely of them. ❤️