The Year In Tiny
A note of thanks, missing pieces, and awe. PLUS: One final 2024 ATA playlist to ferry you into A New Day.
Happy New Year, friends—This is my last letter of the year and also the last day to cash in on our glorious 40% off paid subscription special—that’s a whole year of A Tiny Apt.—plus access to nearly 200 archived stories + inspiration—for just $30. It’s TRUE, every single paid subscription allows me to devote all the damn time I can to making these singular design discoveries, closet edits, thrifting odysseys, and essays possible. To each of of you who’ve subscribed, Liked, shared, and paid to support this little world we’ve created here—I am SO grateful. Here’s to us and a 2025 full of ✨✨.
The Missing Piece.
I started a new journal last week. It’s rare (for me, at least) when completing a journal also aligns with the changing of the calendar year. So, in some ways, this particular milestone felt almost fated.
Whenever I start a new journal—before I write anything—I go into a manila folder where I keep a random assortment of tears, quotes, photos, packaging scraps…anything that caught my eye over the past year and felt worthy of collection and memory. Spreading everything out across the table from the folder, I started clipping, positioning, and taping, leaving blank pages in between, piecing together this mini landscape of ideas and crazy subliminal messages. Instead of a blank canvas, I’ve grown to rely on this funny little arrangement of ritualistic breadcrumbs as I head into whatever this New Chapter will be about.
As luck would have it, in the days I started this journal, Kevin, Raffi and I took an afternoon visit to Mass MOCA in North Adams, MA. This museum of strung-together ancient factory buildings is a regular pilgrimage for me, but it’s also their wonderful Research & Development store full of art books and creative, scrapbook’y doo-dads that get me into real existential ($$!!) trouble.
As I was checking out with some fluorescent orange tape and a little fox figurine for Raffi, I spied a wooden postcard printed with a piece by the artist Jenny Holzer:
“In a dream you saw a way to survive and you were full of joy.”
That’s it, I thought. Even if I wasn’t quite sure what IT was...
I asked Kevin to buy the card for me, and the next morning when it was still dark outside and I returned to the kitchen table setting up my journal, I added the postcard right on the inside cover…and with it, felt this tiny thrill pulse inside me. I was happy. Not just about the year and the journal, but about all the ways many of us “survived” this past year. I’d never thought about that word in that way before…not as a chore or a grind, but as a piece of a story that’s connected to ALL these other things. The good stuff, the hard things, the beauty. Some of it came together and other things went sideways, and still we had a year where we arrived Here. Full of joy…even if it didn’t always feel that way. The card/art piece reminded me how good it is—especially during a moment when we feel compelled to do a lot of tallying/list-making—to offer some appreciation not just for the big glamorous stuff but also for the smaller things…and how we showed up. The things we started (but maybe didn’t finish) or finally talked about after having it in our heads for years.
What if we focus on all the things we did do…and see and feel. Sometimes that stuff is what ends up carrying us on our way, and shaping us a little bit more in the process.
I love this photo from a story I did recently with the upstate knitwear company Eleven Six, photographed by my wonderful friend Jen Steele. She’s always working with film in interesting new ways, and this was shot with a new/old camera she got that ended up turning our photos into DREAMS.
Weirdness and Awe.
This newsletter has been one of the best things that’s shaped me this year. And especially all of you choosing to be here when there are so many other terrific newsletters out there vying for your attention. The truth is, you being here has become a big part of the essence of A Tiny Apt. And like all those funny breadcrumbs in my new journal, every newsletter reveals more about what I want to share together here. YES, it’s about style and spaces and iconic vintage things and also making tough choices about our stuff AND desires. But it’s also so much about life and tiny moments of AWE and how each of us participates in that—sitting in a favorite chair or marveling at the magical powers of a $2 thrift store dress. This past year, we’ve talked about excellent dining tables for small spaces, the sin of fighting in public, the slow and stressful journey of building a small, sustainable house with a (very) tight budget, and so many other things that have become a personal weekly reminder to look for the beauty in our lives, everyday, even when it’s harder to find (it’s there, promise 😎).
This past year, you loved these 10 stories the most (some of you even told me you saved them for a moment when you could really savor them with a coffee or some wine or whatever, uninterrupted, which gives me goosebumps)...
If there’s a theme in these ten stories, I think it’s that simple ideas can be potent, even dazzling. Revealing a way into our own lives that we maybe couldn’t access before, like a little door we didn’t know was there. For me, this newsletter is about looking for those little doorways, never really knowing where I’m going to find them or what they’ll look like, but knowing how wild and strange and amazing it will be when I do. I think that’s why I like thrifting so much, because it reminds me those doors are EVERYWHERE with lots of weird/wonderful stuff behind them to unearth.
Weirdness & awe, from top: Two random pieces of ephemera I bought at an antiques mall recently that seemed worthy of rescuing from obscurity; me appreciating two garbage cans I would have brought home w/me if I could have (thanks to my friend Anna for capturing me in my element🤡); a festive Memphis-style trinket jar I found at a Goodwill last winter that made me imagine the artist was perhaps a super fan of the Great Nathalie due Pasquier (in her studio, below).
Just Look.
This past year, I made it a point to notice and appreciate beauty where I might not be apt to see it otherwise. Case in point: A few months ago, I arrived at the NYU hospital around the corner from our apartment at 6 a.m. to have my first routine colonoscopy. I was VERY nervous sitting in the waiting area by myself, starting—with gusto—to go to that crazy place that hospital/doctors’ offices make you go to. But then I noticed the morning light shining in the window in a certain way…making the hospital art on the wall especially lovely. And Idk, everything after that was sort of great. Even joyful (joking with anesthesiologists before they administer heavy sedative drugs is my specialty). And then waking up after the procedure to find a plate with a tiny can of ginger ale and graham crackers had been left for me.
When your routine colonoscopy is also an interiors moment (literally 😬).
Make It Exist.
I recently did a mini astrology reading with my friend Eden Orion (they are $55 apiece and I highly recommend). One of the things she told me about the year ahead is that it’s very much about rooting in the creative process. Going deeper with what we love or have been wanting. “The vibe for 2025 is us in the creative process,” she said. “Stirring the cauldron, adjusting the recipe, focusing less on outcomes and more on making sure the flavor is right before we put our ‘thing’ in the oven. This slower, more internal focus persists until mid February/March when things heat up. And then, March through September ‘25 life clicks into high gear.”
So, maybe that’s the mood now, tomorrow, into this new year…getting the recipe more right. Being clear and focused about what feels like a priority and what doesn’t. Appreciating where we are and what we can see and do and make, even if it isn’t perfect. We can work on that later, you know?
Above image courtesy of Temi Coker.
And so, to all of you, thank you for making 2024 an important Doorway in my life. You made it possible for me to write and search and do what I love and share all the strange and wonderful things I find with YOU. And I am so grateful for that.
As such, I’m sharing a mini playlist, my last of the year, that you might use to carry you into the New Day…and a new year.
Take walks, watch a good movie, eat something yummy (I’m cooking these on New Year’s eve and I hope they turn out good!), maybe call someone you love. I’ll be thinking of you…and looking forward to ALL the good-looking shenanigans we might get into in 2025. Until then…over and out! xxCb
PS: This past year, I’ve been having a lot of fun playing around with my new ShopMy store. At first I was like, UGH, another platform to manage/keep track of. But honestly, it’s been refreshingly satisfying and also HANDY for organizing all my latest/greatest discoveries—things I think are worth spending $$ on if you’re in the market for something new or vintage/second-hand (tho, the latter sells out quickly). If there’s anything you want me to search for, pls do share it in the comments. Below, a few of the lovely things I collected in my recent Micro Winter Wardrobe story. Keep in mind, if you buy something we might make a tiny commission. ❤️
Thank you thank you thank you for this newsletter that captures this vibe of gratitude and nostalgia and taste. I'm one of the readers that savors your writing and all the amazing links. It's such a feast for the eyes and it's inspired me in so many ways.
I just completed a lifetime overhaul of my closet where I went through boxes and boxes of clothes from past selves and sizes. I know my ability to let go has been honed by your thoughtful enjoyment of an abundance of precious things and the way we must make way for new in order to see ourselves both in our space and in our closet
You are a treasure and the unfolding genius of your attention is a gift <3
Heaven. As always. My favourite place on Substack is what you’ve created. HNY Christene! 💚