5 Little Luxuries That Make Life Feel More Beautiful (Even When It’s Hard)

Life doesn’t always feel beautiful. It can feel noisy, exhausting, hurried—sometimes even scary. The world often seems like it’s on fire, and it’s easy to get lost in the rat race of modern life.

But I’m learning that luxury doesn’t need ideal circumstances or lots of money to exist. You don’t need an Instagram-worthy life for it to be beautiful. It doesn’t need to be expensive. We just need to slow down and choose to notice. It can live in the clearance aisles of grocery stores, in small rituals before going to the gym, in the quiet moments we choose to notice—and in the ways we romanticize everyday life when things feel heavy.

These are a few of the little luxuries I return to when life feels heavy, small moments and rituals that make even the most ordinary days feel more beautiful.

Romanticizing Going to the Gym with Winged Eyeliner and Plum Lips

Luxury isn’t all rest or all discipline; it’s making effort feel beautiful.

Winter has a way of draining motivation. The days are shorter, it’s cold outside, and the idea of leaving a warm apartment for a fluorescent-lit gym can feel almost cruel. During this season especially, discipline matters more than motivation. Motivation comes and goes. Discipline is what gets you out the door when you don’t feel like it.

But discipline doesn’t have to be harsh. I learned this the hard way after hitting a burnout crash at the beginning of fall, when exhaustion forced me to rethink how I move through my days. I’ve been learning what soft productivity looks like for me. Discipline doesn’t have to mean forcing yourself through resistance with gritted teeth. Sometimes, it looks like making the process feel a little more beautiful.

Before I go to the gym, I give myself a small beauty ritual. Nothing elaborate—too many steps can actually backfire. It takes about fifteen minutes. I fill in my eyebrows, draw a winged liner, swipe on mascara, and add a lip tint and gloss. I finish with a body mist,my favorite is Sol de Janeiro Cheirosa 62, It’s warm, comforting, and familiar. It’s a small step, but it changes everything.

This ritual is a little luxury but it also primes my mind. It reminds me this is something I’m choosing, not something I’m punishing myself with. The gym stops feeling like an obligation and starts to feel like a continuation of care. In those quiet minutes before I lace up my shoes, the winged liner and plum lips give me a confidence boost that makes walking through the gym doors feel easier—even on days when social anxiety tries to take over.

On days when winter makes everything feel heavier, this is one of my little luxuries: letting beauty soften discipline, and letting discipline carry me when motivation is nowhere to be found.

Creative Practice at Home: Coffee, Cheetah Print, and Big Hair

As a professional photographer, photography has always lived in two places for me: passion and work. And as a former music photographer in Asheville, North Carolina, I learned a hard truth about what happens when a passion becomes a job. It’s not as glamorous as social media makes it seem. The pressure, the pace, the constant output, the need to make a living from art—it can quietly drain the joy from the thing you once loved.

After music photography, I barely picked up a camera for over a year. Then my camera broke, and for a while, all I had was my iPhone. Unexpectedly, that’s when my love for photography started to come back. Without expectation or performance, I began taking pictures again for this blog. Later, I bought a new camera and started thinking about returning to paid work—but something had shifted.

Self portraits became my way back.

Taking photos of yourself forces you to slow down in a way photographing others doesn’t. You’re both the photographer and the subject. There’s no rush, no audience, no one waiting on the other side of the lens. Just time, curiosity, and attention. It becomes less about capturing and more about noticing.

This practice has made photography feel intimate again. Passionate again. It’s my way of reclaiming creativity without monetizing it—of creating for the sake of creating. That, to me, is part of little luxuries to find in everyday life. There’s something deeply beautiful about taking an idea that once lived only in your mind and gently bringing it into the world. Whether it’s painting or music or even building something from scratch, being creative makes life more meaningful and luxurious.

Clearance Aisle Blueberry Scones and Coffee at Noon

Little luxuries don’t exist just in expensive bistros in SoHo or at Whole Foods only. To save money, I often check the clearance section of the bakery at my local grocery store. That’s where the baked goods end up at half off—yesterday’s pastries, slightly imperfect, but still perfectly good. It’s a small habit rooted in practicality, but it’s also where I’ve learned to look a little closer.

When life starts to feel repetitive, it’s usually not because anything is wrong.

It’s because everything feels the same.

Eating the same things. Doing the same things. The same route to work and home. The same movies and shows we watch on repeat. The days end up blurring together instead of feeling intentional and meaningful. To break up that monotony, I try something new, even if its just half off blueberry scones. They’re something I’ve never had before. Nothing extravagant. Just different.

Buying it on clearance does two things at once. It satisfies the desire for novelty, the quiet craving to try something new, without the pressure of spending more money. It lets curiosity exist inside constraint, a small intentional pleasure, paired with coffee and noon sunlight, that makes an ordinary afternoon feel lighter and luxurious.

That, to me, little luxuries don’t have to be expensive. They just need to make you slow down and savor.

Morning Coffee and the Ritual of Choosing a Mug

I have coffee every morning. It’s one of the few constants in my day, something I return to as I do my skincare and ease into myself before the world asks anything of me. Over the years, I’ve collected mugs, most of them found at Goodwill. Each one is different. One of a kind. Slightly imperfect. Chosen.

There’s something quietly luxurious about having a collection of anything. It makes life feel more personal, more considered. These mugs aren’t just objects; they hold memory, mood, and preference. Some feel right on slow mornings. Others on days when I need comfort, grounding, or a little color.

Choosing a mug becomes part of the ritual. Before the coffee is even poured, there’s a moment of pause and attention. That choice matters almost as much as the coffee itself. It’s a small decision, but it turns an automatic habit into something intentional.

This, to me, is another little luxury: letting familiarity become meaningful, and allowing even the simplest part of the morning to feel beautiful.

Dessert Before Bed

I have a sweet tooth. And at night, I promise myself dessert after I finish my skincare ritual. It’s a small agreement I make with myself, one that turns the end of the day into something I can look forward to.

That promise keeps me both happy and disciplined. I don’t rush through the routine or skip it entirely. I take my time, knowing there’s something waiting on the other side. Dessert becomes less about indulgence and more about rhythm, a quiet reward that makes care feel sustainable.

It’s rarely anything elaborate. A slice of cheesecake, ice cream, something sweet eaten slowly before bed. A soft ending to the day.

On nights when everything feels heavy and it’s hard to unwind, this is another little luxury I return to: allowing myself sweetness without earning it, and letting the day end gently.

The Luxury of Small Things

Luxury doesn’t always look the way we’ve been taught to recognize it. It doesn’t exist only in designer bags or extravagant trips abroad. Most days, it shows up quietly—in the routines we return to, the small choices we make, the moments we allow ourselves to enjoy without justification.

If you slow down enough to notice, there are little luxuries already woven into your life, making even the hardest days feel more beautiful. They don’t fix everything, but they soften the edges. And sometimes, that’s enough.

🌿 Stay awhile. Join Slow Notes, my monthly letter from The Bohemian Bungalow — a quiet, creative space for art, style, and soul.