I bought my very first mug in Canada about 15 years ago.
I was an paid intern then. For the first time in my life, I was earning enough money not just to survive with only the necessary, but to shop and sometimes indulge!
One of my very first purchases was a mug (that i actually needed for my morning Earl Grey) that read:
“I’m not a shopaholic, I’m just really into stimulating the economy.”
It made me laugh. It felt fitting. I was a young woman discovering a small but powerful thing: agency. The ability to acquire objects simply because they resonated with me. I bought that mug without thinking too much about it. And yet, looking back, that moment marked the beginning of something.
A collection.
Over the years, more mugs joined it. Some I bought because they stirred an emotion. Some because they reminded me of a special day. Some during my travels. Souvenirs of moments, cities, versions of myself. Ten years later, I realized I had accumulated far more than just ceramic objects. I had gathered a timeline.
Then one day, one of them slipped.
It fell and broke. This mug was a little different. It had been a gift you see. So not a conscious addition to my precious collection. It was given to me from someone I used to love. I expected sadness. I expected a pang when it broke…with “ Bang Bang you shot me down, Bang Bang I hit the ground” playing in the background.
Instead, I felt… relieved!
As I picked up the broken pieces from the floor, I understood something very clearly: this collection of mugs was a mirror. Each one carried a version of myself at a specific time. Who I had been. Who I was becoming, which also meant who I no longer was…
That particular mug had stayed with me longer than it needed to. Every time I used it in my peaceful mornings, it brought me back to a relationship that had ended, to a version of myself that no longer existed. It wasn’t dramatic. It was subtle. But it was there. I used it out of habit and practicity only.
The fact that it broke felt… right.
It reminded me of something Marie Kondo talks about: the idea that we shouldn’t hold on to objects that no longer bring us joy. That sometimes, letting go isn’t wasteful or careless. It’s conscious. It’s respectful. It’s necessary.
So I suppose that mug broke for a reason:
It created space. And in that space, something lighter had now room to settle.
I think about this often now, especially because I am a very conscious buyer. Everything I design, everything I bring into my life, carries intention. Daily objects have a quiet power. They can transport us. Shift our mood.
Shape the tone of an entire day.
It matters to question who we are, who we’re becoming, and what truly serves us now. Life has a subtle way of making room for new, better-aligned versions of ourselves, if we let it.
I still have my mugs. I love choosing one depending on the day, the mood, the energy I want to invite in. And I know I’ll keep buying more in the future.
So here’s my invitation to you:
Next time you choose your morning cup, take ten seconds. Just ten. Ask yourself how it makes you feel. Fill it not just with coffee or tea, but with whatever intention you feel like stirring for that day.
Sometimes, that’s all it takes to be a little more aligned with ourselves.
Love, Anne.
Now doesn't it seem obvious I just HAD to have mugs in my own shop ?!
See the collection in my Home & Rituals <3
