The Case for Charming Drinkware
Dear Lovely,
The first time I ever bought any juice glasses was very soon after I graduated college. I was working for Calvin Klein in Highland Park Village, and back in those days, there was a large Anthropologie store anchored on the southeast end behind Starbucks. Anyone remember that Anthro?
I ventured in one day, maybe on my lunch break, and found six little juice glasses in the sale room. I still have them to this day—well, I have five of them. One got broken. Not by me. Anyway, since then, I have loved collecting juice glasses.
The first set of juice glasses I ever bought in probably 2005.
Most of mine are from Anthropologie, collected over the years, but I certainly don’t discriminate, and now each one has a story.
If I look at the people around me, many actually have little collections of things they love:
my mother collects tiny boxes
my mother-in-law collects baskets
my husband collects whiskey
my bestie neighbor down the street collects little seasonal salad-sized plates from Pottery Barn
some people collect travel stickers, tiny spoons, or thimbles
So, why do I collect juice glasses? Why do we collect anything, for that matter? Why do we continue to add once any group of items becomes large enough to call a collection? At that point, the volume has likely surpassed meeting any sort of need.
I bought these in probably 2015 for a photoshoot for the OG TAOLB. They are a soft lavender color with a fleur de lis design pressed into the glass. The photo on the right is from that shoot. Now I have them on the shelf in our guest room and place a glass bottle of water next to them.
Juice glasses are not a need in my home—we have plenty. Neither does my mother need tiny boxes that are too small to hold anything; nor does my husband need any more whiskey. (He might disagree with me on this.)
So once usefulness no longer explains the collection, what does? What’s the collection giving us that utility cannot account for?
My friend Shay—the one who collects the little plates from Pottery Barn—gave me a GORGEOUS coffee table book about France for my birthday. I’ve slowly been making my way through the pages and found a quote that really resonated with me in the chapter about French beauty:
“Beauty is a body and soul healer. Our interior spaces are havens of immaterial emotions that protect and uplift the spirits. They massage our skin, eyes, and inner being with gentle sensations of gratefulness and mindfulness. Objects have a soul and a presence. If you cherish them, they will comfort you with stories to be told for generations. ”
I think this is one of the reasons we surround ourselves with the things we do. This is why I love juice glasses. This is why Shay collects seasonal plates. Suddenly, something completely mundane has color, ritual, personality, and pleasure, and seeing it stimulates dopamine. Beauty doesn’t have to be grand to be meaningful. It just has to speak your language.
When a glass of sparkling water is sitting on the side table in the afternoon while I sit on my couch and read, I can look over and find the sun catching the colorful glass, making the design come to life. Suddenly, whimsy is present.
Whimsy!
That juice glass made my life whimsical!
In case you didn’t know this, one of my biggest hopes is to create a whimsical life.
whimsy — anything odd or fanciful; a product of playful or capricious fancy
I want a life that may seem a little odd to others, but is fanciful and playful to me.
Mission accomplished!
Another reason this type of collection appeals to me is that it’s actually functional. I’m never much of a fan of collecting or owning something that isn’t regularly used—i.e., china and crystal from your wedding. We definitely use ours!
These juice glasses get used, and often: daily for my sparkling water addiction, but also as vessels for individual desserts I’m serving, such as Dirt Cups or Blackberry S’mores. I’m not collecting things just to admire. I’m collecting things that I adopt into my way of life. And together—with the people, the artwork, the furnishings, the fragrance of fresh flowers or lemon Parmesan risotto, the sound of French Café Radio playing over our speakers—everything in my home collectively says, “This is how we live here.”
Isn’t this The Art of Living Beautifully?
Isn’t it about adopting the rituals, creating the setting, and maintaining the presence of mind to really live within your days?
Juice glasses have become little opportunities to practice gratitude: grateful for something that brings me joy; grateful for plenty of sustenance to put inside them; grateful for a home filled with things that carry stories, memories, beauty, whimsy, and charm.
None of that is lost on me. I’m blessed.
And maybe that's the distinction I've been trying to put my finger on. The collecting itself isn't the meaningful part. It's what happens after I've brought something home. I use it. I notice it. I enjoy it. I remember where it came from. Something as ordinary as a glass of sparkling water becomes just a little more delightful.
There is plenty in life that we don't get to choose. But within our own little corners of the world, we do get to choose some things. We can choose the music playing in the kitchen. We can light the candle. We can put flowers in the funny little vase. We can serve dinner on the good china. We can pour the sparkling water into the glass covered in pumpkins as soon as September hits.
There’s a difference between accumulating and collecting. Accumulating is about having more; collecting, at least for me, is about noticing what delights me, choosing it intentionally, and giving it a place in the way I live.
So yes, I'll probably keep collecting.
Do I need another one?
No. And I'm happy with what I have.
But if it has tiny croissants all over it, we'll see.
