Why 'Treat Yourself' Might Be Terrible Advice
The Joy of Less But Luxe
So I found myself adding to cart a bundle of inks in colors I didn’t love. But it's on sale, whispered that familiar voice, treat yourself! As I deleted the bundle from my cart (when would I ever write in turquoise?), I realized how often that phrase has led me astray—and how much more satisfying its alternative has proven to be: Choose quality over quantity. The difference has transformed not just my home, but my entire approach to consumption.
The Joy of Less But Luxe
There's a paradox at the heart of truly luxurious living: the most refined choices are often the most restrained.
For years, my approach to life's pleasures was more is more. Shopping therapy meant quantity—three lip balms in allegedly different shades, candles for every mood (except maudlin buyer’s remorse), kitchen gadgets ‘just in case’ (in case I might actually cook? Yeah, no). But despite accumulating more, I never felt like I had enough.
The turning point came during a particularly chaotic day when I couldn't find the blouse I wanted in my crowded closet. Standing amid abundance, I felt oddly deprived—not of possessions, but of clarity, space, and genuine pleasure.
That day, I made a decision that would transform my relationship with consumption: I would choose less, but better.
What does ‘less but luxe’ look like in practice?
Instead of multiple ordinary options, one exquisite choice. One perfect cashmere sweater rather than five acrylic ones. One exceptional chocolate truffle instead of a mediocre candy bar.
Instead of impulse buys, deliberate investments. Waiting to purchase until I've found exactly what I want. Researching quality. Understanding that true value often means spending more upfront but replacing less frequently.
Instead of following trends, developing a personal aesthetic. Choosing items that speak to me (hello, lover… they say) rather than to the moment. Building a collection of possessions that feel timeless and coherent rather than scattered and temporary.
The result has been transformative. My home feels more intentional. My belongings bring me genuine joy rather than momentary distraction. And counterintuitively, I spend less overall while enjoying what I have more deeply.
Perhaps most surprisingly, this approach has spread beyond material possessions. I find myself choosing ‘less but better’ in how I spend my time, which relationships I nurture, what shows I watch, even the thoughts I entertain.
In Chic Minimalism, I explore this principle in depth—particularly in Rule 07: Choose Less But Luxe. As I say in the book, having fewer, better things gives us far more pleasure than many mediocre ones. They're a joy to use, to wear, to look at—and they feel like enough. Enough!
Is there an area of your life where you might benefit from ‘less but luxe’? Have you already embraced this principle in some way? I'd love to hear your experiences.
To quality over quantity,
Michele
P.S. Next week, the turning point in my lifelong battle with perfectionism. Teaser: it involves messy eyeliner. (Not mine.)