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I think we’re all feeling the same thing lately — time has become distorted ever since 2020. The days stretch into one another like an infinite musical tie; so much sound, so little rest. Each time I scale the stairs from my apartment I’m greeted by all the noise of Los Angeles. Not that indoors is any better; sirens scream by at all hours, and no swath of noise-dampening curtains could soften their howls. The thick, whirring bass of rush hour traffic underscores it all, punctuated by angry meeps and beeps of honking car horns. I’ve heard—and seen—more car accidents from my patio than most humans will in a lifetime. For some, this is a special kind of hell. I’ve stopped apologizing for the ruckus on my Zoom calls, just muting myself when I can. But as someone who’s always worked best in a bustling environment, preferring the sounds of strangers over silence, the city is music to my ears. I grew up in the suburbs, spending long afternoons at the park, climbing the twisty crabapple tree in my backyard, and watching the sun go down over a horizon of dense trees. Amidst all that peacefulness, I always craved more noise, more stimulation, and I found it wherever I could—by writing, doodling, running, playing loud music, anything to keep a constant flow of creation and absorption. When all else failed, I’d turn to conversations and storytelling in my never-quiet mind. “As someone who’s always worked best in a bustling environment, preferring the sounds of strangers over silence, the city is music to my ears.” I followed that buzziness to Los Angeles when I was 24, and finally, the world around me matched the energy inside. That’s not to say the transition was easy; all the stresses of regular life feel amplified in the city. Money trouble? Here’s triple your old rent. Want to be on time? Leave 30 minutes earlier, more if you can. Car issues? Sorry, public transportation will take twice as long (at least in Los Angeles — although it’s getting better). The city begs you to react to its demands and incidents, like a fussy toddler after a long day in the sun. And reacting can be exhausting, like our minds can’t race fast enough to keep up. Some research indicates that people who live in cities are at a greater risk for mental health concerns too, including depression and anxiety. Factor in pollution, stressed-out strangers, and socioeconomic disparities (which are even larger in populated cities), and you have quite the cocktail of chaos. Yet, you’ll meet many people who wouldn’t trade their city life for the world — there are even research that shows city living in a much more positive light . Haley Nahman, a writer living in New York, puts it into a beautiful perspective: “Sometimes I’m sorry that the most fertile roots I’ve laid in my adult life are in such a transient place […] To leave now sounds lonelier than if I’d never come. But I don’t regret it either, it’s just how my life unfolded.” I too have discovered a joyful rhythm living in the city, though on a separate coast. Los Angeles, while a temporary stopover for many, is home for me, and it offers me peace and even my own kind of quiet — as Nahman suggests, it would only be lonely to leave at this point. But creating a more harmonious life in the city has required plenty of presence, nurturing, and patience. Because if there’s one thing a city can’t do, it’s change for each of our individual expectations. “Creating a more harmonious life in the city has required plenty of presence, nurturing, and patience. Because if there’s one thing a city can’t do, it’s change for each of our individual expectations.” The first thing I noticed when moving to the city was how it requires much more effort to remain calm in the face of stimuli from the sights, sounds, smells, and people. The high cost of living isn’t only financial in the city; it’s physical and emotional, too! “Everyone has a body budget,” Teresa Lodato tells me, a certified professional coach (and NYC and San Francisco dweller). Our body budget is the amount of stress we can handle before experiencing overwhelm, and Lodato recommends making deposits — through mindfulness, healthy eating, and exercise — and monitor which activities function as withdrawals. For me, withdrawals can be as simple as trying to find parking all the way up to huge ceiling leaks in my apartment. In times like those, I listen to my body and curl up in my weighted blanket to re-center myself. Having that space to return to yourself, too, is crucial. In a big city, our apartments or bedrooms are our refuges from all the noise around us. I like to make my space bright, fill it with noise-dampening curtains, and add as many natural touches as possible (houseplants are great, but I’m better at caring for my pets!). Blanca Vergara, who’s lived in Mexico City and then Amsterdam for a combined 52 years, looks for intuitive ways to support herself physically, mentally, and socially. She shared that she aligns her agenda with the cycles of nature, reduces decision fatigue by creating capsule wardrobes, and volunteers in community gardens and art programs. And of course, plants. “I brought the woods home,” she says. “I have many plants. At least one in every room. Some are hanging, some are trees, some are herbs. There’s no place in the house where I don’t see a plant.” Making my home a personal refuge has been essential, but the last few isolating years have also reminded me that our neighborhoods are equally important. Cities are sharp places, and I am, like many people, a bit soft. So to dull its sharpness, we can weave the smallest parts of the city into our own stories — like learning the barista’s name at our favorite third place, discovering a hidden walking path, or finding the perfect spot to watch the sunset. Find those little things and moments that have meaning to you to make the sheer scale of the city around you feel a little more personalized. “Find those little things and moments that have meaning to you to make the sheer scale of the city around you feel a little more personalized.” And if after focusing on the smallest things, it all still feels like too much—it’s okay to feel everything. “When LA overwhelms me, I try to come back to what I believe to be its ethos: creation,” says KCRW host Steve Chiotakis, who hosts the radio show Greater LA, covering the individual stories held within our shared city. He shares that having a go-to decompressing activity can be a balm — his is driving around and watching the city be itself. Not trying to change it, just to observe. “It’s my escape, physical and mental, to bring a little personal peace and quiet. LA can be loud and overwhelming sometimes, but at its core, it’s magic.” That’s how I’ve found my peace here, by breathing it all in and embracing those tiny things that feel like magic: The steam from my coffee dissipating into the morning sun, the runaway gold balloon making its escape into a blue sky lined with rooftops. The way strangers and I roll our eyes together at distracted drivers in the crosswalks. The clack—cl—clack—cl—clack sound of my ceiling fan when the late afternoon sun is scalding the walls of my concrete building. The lonely coat stand lying by the sidewalk, and me wondering if I should take it home to repair it. Wherever you live, I hope you can find the music in the madness; it is there, I promise. It is just our job to pause, quiet ourselves, and listen for it. Or sometimes, maybe, make the music ourselves. Emily McGowan is the Editorial Director at The Good Trade. She studied Creative Writing and Business at Indiana University, and has over ten years of experience as a writer and editor in sustainability and lifestyle spaces. Since 2017, she’s been discovering and reviewing the top sustainable home, fashion, beauty, and wellness products so readers can make their most informed decisions. Her editorial work has been recognized by major publications like The New York Times and BBC Worklife. You can usually find her in her colorful Los Angeles apartment journaling, caring for her rabbits and cat, or gaming. Say hi on Instagram!
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Home Uncategorized I think we’re all feeling the same thing lately — time has become distorted ever since 2020. The days stretch into one another like an infinite musical tie; so much sound, so little rest. Each time I scale the stairs from my apartment I’m greeted by all the noise of Los Angeles. Not that indoors is any better; sirens scream by at all hours, and no swath of noise-dampening curtains could soften their howls. The thick, whirring bass of rush hour traffic underscores it all, punctuated by angry meeps and beeps of honking car horns. I’ve heard—and seen—more car accidents from my patio than most humans will in a lifetime. For some, this is a special kind of hell. I’ve stopped apologizing for the ruckus on my Zoom calls, just muting myself when I can. But as someone who’s always worked best in a bustling environment, preferring the sounds of strangers over silence, the city is music to my ears. I grew up in the suburbs, spending long afternoons at the park, climbing the twisty crabapple tree in my backyard, and watching the sun go down over a horizon of dense trees. Amidst all that peacefulness, I always craved more noise, more stimulation, and I found it wherever I could—by writing, doodling, running, playing loud music, anything to keep a constant flow of creation and absorption. When all else failed, I’d turn to conversations and storytelling in my never-quiet mind. “As someone who’s always worked best in a bustling environment, preferring the sounds of strangers over silence, the city is music to my ears.” I followed that buzziness to Los Angeles when I was 24, and finally, the world around me matched the energy inside. That’s not to say the transition was easy; all the stresses of regular life feel amplified in the city. Money trouble? Here’s triple your old rent. Want to be on time? Leave 30 minutes earlier, more if you can. Car issues? Sorry, public transportation will take twice as long (at least in Los Angeles — although it’s getting better). The city begs you to react to its demands and incidents, like a fussy toddler after a long day in the sun. And reacting can be exhausting, like our minds can’t race fast enough to keep up. Some research indicates that people who live in cities are at a greater risk for mental health concerns too, including depression and anxiety. Factor in pollution, stressed-out strangers, and socioeconomic disparities (which are even larger in populated cities), and you have quite the cocktail of chaos. Yet, you’ll meet many people who wouldn’t trade their city life for the world — there are even research that shows city living in a much more positive light . Haley Nahman, a writer living in New York, puts it into a beautiful perspective: “Sometimes I’m sorry that the most fertile roots I’ve laid in my adult life are in such a transient place […] To leave now sounds lonelier than if I’d never come. But I don’t regret it either, it’s just how my life unfolded.” I too have discovered a joyful rhythm living in the city, though on a separate coast. Los Angeles, while a temporary stopover for many, is home for me, and it offers me peace and even my own kind of quiet — as Nahman suggests, it would only be lonely to leave at this point. But creating a more harmonious life in the city has required plenty of presence, nurturing, and patience. Because if there’s one thing a city can’t do, it’s change for each of our individual expectations. “Creating a more harmonious life in the city has required plenty of presence, nurturing, and patience. Because if there’s one thing a city can’t do, it’s change for each of our individual expectations.” The first thing I noticed when moving to the city was how it requires much more effort to remain calm in the face of stimuli from the sights, sounds, smells, and people. The high cost of living isn’t only financial in the city; it’s physical and emotional, too! “Everyone has a body budget,” Teresa Lodato tells me, a certified professional coach (and NYC and San Francisco dweller). Our body budget is the amount of stress we can handle before experiencing overwhelm, and Lodato recommends making deposits — through mindfulness, healthy eating, and exercise — and monitor which activities function as withdrawals. For me, withdrawals can be as simple as trying to find parking all the way up to huge ceiling leaks in my apartment. In times like those, I listen to my body and curl up in my weighted blanket to re-center myself. Having that space to return to yourself, too, is crucial. In a big city, our apartments or bedrooms are our refuges from all the noise around us. I like to make my space bright, fill it with noise-dampening curtains, and add as many natural touches as possible (houseplants are great, but I’m better at caring for my pets!). Blanca Vergara, who’s lived in Mexico City and then Amsterdam for a combined 52 years, looks for intuitive ways to support herself physically, mentally, and socially. She shared that she aligns her agenda with the cycles of nature, reduces decision fatigue by creating capsule wardrobes, and volunteers in community gardens and art programs. And of course, plants. “I brought the woods home,” she says. “I have many plants. At least one in every room. Some are hanging, some are trees, some are herbs. There’s no place in the house where I don’t see a plant.” Making my home a personal refuge has been essential, but the last few isolating years have also reminded me that our neighborhoods are equally important. Cities are sharp places, and I am, like many people, a bit soft. So to dull its sharpness, we can weave the smallest parts of the city into our own stories — like learning the barista’s name at our favorite third place, discovering a hidden walking path, or finding the perfect spot to watch the sunset. Find those little things and moments that have meaning to you to make the sheer scale of the city around you feel a little more personalized. “Find those little things and moments that have meaning to you to make the sheer scale of the city around you feel a little more personalized.” And if after focusing on the smallest things, it all still feels like too much—it’s okay to feel everything. “When LA overwhelms me, I try to come back to what I believe to be its ethos: creation,” says KCRW host Steve Chiotakis, who hosts the radio show Greater LA, covering the individual stories held within our shared city. He shares that having a go-to decompressing activity can be a balm — his is driving around and watching the city be itself. Not trying to change it, just to observe. “It’s my escape, physical and mental, to bring a little personal peace and quiet. LA can be loud and overwhelming sometimes, but at its core, it’s magic.” That’s how I’ve found my peace here, by breathing it all in and embracing those tiny things that feel like magic: The steam from my coffee dissipating into the morning sun, the runaway gold balloon making its escape into a blue sky lined with rooftops. The way strangers and I roll our eyes together at distracted drivers in the crosswalks. The clack—cl—clack—cl—clack sound of my ceiling fan when the late afternoon sun is scalding the walls of my concrete building. The lonely coat stand lying by the sidewalk, and me wondering if I should take it home to repair it. Wherever you live, I hope you can find the music in the madness; it is there, I promise. It is just our job to pause, quiet ourselves, and listen for it. Or sometimes, maybe, make the music ourselves. Emily McGowan is the Editorial Director at The Good Trade. She studied Creative Writing and Business at Indiana University, and has over ten years of experience as a writer and editor in sustainability and lifestyle spaces. Since 2017, she’s been discovering and reviewing the top sustainable home, fashion, beauty, and wellness products so readers can make their most informed decisions. Her editorial work has been recognized by major publications like The New York Times and BBC Worklife. You can usually find her in her colorful Los Angeles apartment journaling, caring for her rabbits and cat, or gaming. Say hi on Instagram!
Uncategorized

I think we’re all feeling the same thing lately — time has become distorted ever since 2020. The days stretch into one another like an infinite musical tie; so much sound, so little rest. Each time I scale the stairs from my apartment I’m greeted by all the noise of Los Angeles. Not that indoors is any better; sirens scream by at all hours, and no swath of noise-dampening curtains could soften their howls. The thick, whirring bass of rush hour traffic underscores it all, punctuated by angry meeps and beeps of honking car horns. I’ve heard—and seen—more car accidents from my patio than most humans will in a lifetime. For some, this is a special kind of hell. I’ve stopped apologizing for the ruckus on my Zoom calls, just muting myself when I can. But as someone who’s always worked best in a bustling environment, preferring the sounds of strangers over silence, the city is music to my ears. I grew up in the suburbs, spending long afternoons at the park, climbing the twisty crabapple tree in my backyard, and watching the sun go down over a horizon of dense trees. Amidst all that peacefulness, I always craved more noise, more stimulation, and I found it wherever I could—by writing, doodling, running, playing loud music, anything to keep a constant flow of creation and absorption. When all else failed, I’d turn to conversations and storytelling in my never-quiet mind. “As someone who’s always worked best in a bustling environment, preferring the sounds of strangers over silence, the city is music to my ears.” I followed that buzziness to Los Angeles when I was 24, and finally, the world around me matched the energy inside. That’s not to say the transition was easy; all the stresses of regular life feel amplified in the city. Money trouble? Here’s triple your old rent. Want to be on time? Leave 30 minutes earlier, more if you can. Car issues? Sorry, public transportation will take twice as long (at least in Los Angeles — although it’s getting better). The city begs you to react to its demands and incidents, like a fussy toddler after a long day in the sun. And reacting can be exhausting, like our minds can’t race fast enough to keep up. Some research indicates that people who live in cities are at a greater risk for mental health concerns too, including depression and anxiety. Factor in pollution, stressed-out strangers, and socioeconomic disparities (which are even larger in populated cities), and you have quite the cocktail of chaos. Yet, you’ll meet many people who wouldn’t trade their city life for the world — there are even research that shows city living in a much more positive light . Haley Nahman, a writer living in New York, puts it into a beautiful perspective: “Sometimes I’m sorry that the most fertile roots I’ve laid in my adult life are in such a transient place […] To leave now sounds lonelier than if I’d never come. But I don’t regret it either, it’s just how my life unfolded.” I too have discovered a joyful rhythm living in the city, though on a separate coast. Los Angeles, while a temporary stopover for many, is home for me, and it offers me peace and even my own kind of quiet — as Nahman suggests, it would only be lonely to leave at this point. But creating a more harmonious life in the city has required plenty of presence, nurturing, and patience. Because if there’s one thing a city can’t do, it’s change for each of our individual expectations. “Creating a more harmonious life in the city has required plenty of presence, nurturing, and patience. Because if there’s one thing a city can’t do, it’s change for each of our individual expectations.” The first thing I noticed when moving to the city was how it requires much more effort to remain calm in the face of stimuli from the sights, sounds, smells, and people. The high cost of living isn’t only financial in the city; it’s physical and emotional, too! “Everyone has a body budget,” Teresa Lodato tells me, a certified professional coach (and NYC and San Francisco dweller). Our body budget is the amount of stress we can handle before experiencing overwhelm, and Lodato recommends making deposits — through mindfulness, healthy eating, and exercise — and monitor which activities function as withdrawals. For me, withdrawals can be as simple as trying to find parking all the way up to huge ceiling leaks in my apartment. In times like those, I listen to my body and curl up in my weighted blanket to re-center myself. Having that space to return to yourself, too, is crucial. In a big city, our apartments or bedrooms are our refuges from all the noise around us. I like to make my space bright, fill it with noise-dampening curtains, and add as many natural touches as possible (houseplants are great, but I’m better at caring for my pets!). Blanca Vergara, who’s lived in Mexico City and then Amsterdam for a combined 52 years, looks for intuitive ways to support herself physically, mentally, and socially. She shared that she aligns her agenda with the cycles of nature, reduces decision fatigue by creating capsule wardrobes, and volunteers in community gardens and art programs. And of course, plants. “I brought the woods home,” she says. “I have many plants. At least one in every room. Some are hanging, some are trees, some are herbs. There’s no place in the house where I don’t see a plant.” Making my home a personal refuge has been essential, but the last few isolating years have also reminded me that our neighborhoods are equally important. Cities are sharp places, and I am, like many people, a bit soft. So to dull its sharpness, we can weave the smallest parts of the city into our own stories — like learning the barista’s name at our favorite third place, discovering a hidden walking path, or finding the perfect spot to watch the sunset. Find those little things and moments that have meaning to you to make the sheer scale of the city around you feel a little more personalized. “Find those little things and moments that have meaning to you to make the sheer scale of the city around you feel a little more personalized.” And if after focusing on the smallest things, it all still feels like too much—it’s okay to feel everything. “When LA overwhelms me, I try to come back to what I believe to be its ethos: creation,” says KCRW host Steve Chiotakis, who hosts the radio show Greater LA, covering the individual stories held within our shared city. He shares that having a go-to decompressing activity can be a balm — his is driving around and watching the city be itself. Not trying to change it, just to observe. “It’s my escape, physical and mental, to bring a little personal peace and quiet. LA can be loud and overwhelming sometimes, but at its core, it’s magic.” That’s how I’ve found my peace here, by breathing it all in and embracing those tiny things that feel like magic: The steam from my coffee dissipating into the morning sun, the runaway gold balloon making its escape into a blue sky lined with rooftops. The way strangers and I roll our eyes together at distracted drivers in the crosswalks. The clack—cl—clack—cl—clack sound of my ceiling fan when the late afternoon sun is scalding the walls of my concrete building. The lonely coat stand lying by the sidewalk, and me wondering if I should take it home to repair it. Wherever you live, I hope you can find the music in the madness; it is there, I promise. It is just our job to pause, quiet ourselves, and listen for it. Or sometimes, maybe, make the music ourselves. Emily McGowan is the Editorial Director at The Good Trade. She studied Creative Writing and Business at Indiana University, and has over ten years of experience as a writer and editor in sustainability and lifestyle spaces. Since 2017, she’s been discovering and reviewing the top sustainable home, fashion, beauty, and wellness products so readers can make their most informed decisions. Her editorial work has been recognized by major publications like The New York Times and BBC Worklife. You can usually find her in her colorful Los Angeles apartment journaling, caring for her rabbits and cat, or gaming. Say hi on Instagram!

updated on Leave a Comment on I think we’re all feeling the same thing lately — time has become distorted ever since 2020. The days stretch into one another like an infinite musical tie; so much sound, so little rest. Each time I scale the stairs from my apartment I’m greeted by all the noise of Los Angeles. Not that indoors is any better; sirens scream by at all hours, and no swath of noise-dampening curtains could soften their howls. The thick, whirring bass of rush hour traffic underscores it all, punctuated by angry meeps and beeps of honking car horns. I’ve heard—and seen—more car accidents from my patio than most humans will in a lifetime. For some, this is a special kind of hell. I’ve stopped apologizing for the ruckus on my Zoom calls, just muting myself when I can. But as someone who’s always worked best in a bustling environment, preferring the sounds of strangers over silence, the city is music to my ears. I grew up in the suburbs, spending long afternoons at the park, climbing the twisty crabapple tree in my backyard, and watching the sun go down over a horizon of dense trees. Amidst all that peacefulness, I always craved more noise, more stimulation, and I found it wherever I could—by writing, doodling, running, playing loud music, anything to keep a constant flow of creation and absorption. When all else failed, I’d turn to conversations and storytelling in my never-quiet mind. “As someone who’s always worked best in a bustling environment, preferring the sounds of strangers over silence, the city is music to my ears.” I followed that buzziness to Los Angeles when I was 24, and finally, the world around me matched the energy inside. That’s not to say the transition was easy; all the stresses of regular life feel amplified in the city. Money trouble? Here’s triple your old rent. Want to be on time? Leave 30 minutes earlier, more if you can. Car issues? Sorry, public transportation will take twice as long (at least in Los Angeles — although it’s getting better). The city begs you to react to its demands and incidents, like a fussy toddler after a long day in the sun. And reacting can be exhausting, like our minds can’t race fast enough to keep up. Some research indicates that people who live in cities are at a greater risk for mental health concerns too, including depression and anxiety. Factor in pollution, stressed-out strangers, and socioeconomic disparities (which are even larger in populated cities), and you have quite the cocktail of chaos. Yet, you’ll meet many people who wouldn’t trade their city life for the world — there are even research that shows city living in a much more positive light . Haley Nahman, a writer living in New York, puts it into a beautiful perspective: “Sometimes I’m sorry that the most fertile roots I’ve laid in my adult life are in such a transient place […] To leave now sounds lonelier than if I’d never come. But I don’t regret it either, it’s just how my life unfolded.” I too have discovered a joyful rhythm living in the city, though on a separate coast. Los Angeles, while a temporary stopover for many, is home for me, and it offers me peace and even my own kind of quiet — as Nahman suggests, it would only be lonely to leave at this point. But creating a more harmonious life in the city has required plenty of presence, nurturing, and patience. Because if there’s one thing a city can’t do, it’s change for each of our individual expectations. “Creating a more harmonious life in the city has required plenty of presence, nurturing, and patience. Because if there’s one thing a city can’t do, it’s change for each of our individual expectations.” The first thing I noticed when moving to the city was how it requires much more effort to remain calm in the face of stimuli from the sights, sounds, smells, and people. The high cost of living isn’t only financial in the city; it’s physical and emotional, too! “Everyone has a body budget,” Teresa Lodato tells me, a certified professional coach (and NYC and San Francisco dweller). Our body budget is the amount of stress we can handle before experiencing overwhelm, and Lodato recommends making deposits — through mindfulness, healthy eating, and exercise — and monitor which activities function as withdrawals. For me, withdrawals can be as simple as trying to find parking all the way up to huge ceiling leaks in my apartment. In times like those, I listen to my body and curl up in my weighted blanket to re-center myself. Having that space to return to yourself, too, is crucial. In a big city, our apartments or bedrooms are our refuges from all the noise around us. I like to make my space bright, fill it with noise-dampening curtains, and add as many natural touches as possible (houseplants are great, but I’m better at caring for my pets!). Blanca Vergara, who’s lived in Mexico City and then Amsterdam for a combined 52 years, looks for intuitive ways to support herself physically, mentally, and socially. She shared that she aligns her agenda with the cycles of nature, reduces decision fatigue by creating capsule wardrobes, and volunteers in community gardens and art programs. And of course, plants. “I brought the woods home,” she says. “I have many plants. At least one in every room. Some are hanging, some are trees, some are herbs. There’s no place in the house where I don’t see a plant.” Making my home a personal refuge has been essential, but the last few isolating years have also reminded me that our neighborhoods are equally important. Cities are sharp places, and I am, like many people, a bit soft. So to dull its sharpness, we can weave the smallest parts of the city into our own stories — like learning the barista’s name at our favorite third place, discovering a hidden walking path, or finding the perfect spot to watch the sunset. Find those little things and moments that have meaning to you to make the sheer scale of the city around you feel a little more personalized. “Find those little things and moments that have meaning to you to make the sheer scale of the city around you feel a little more personalized.” And if after focusing on the smallest things, it all still feels like too much—it’s okay to feel everything. “When LA overwhelms me, I try to come back to what I believe to be its ethos: creation,” says KCRW host Steve Chiotakis, who hosts the radio show Greater LA, covering the individual stories held within our shared city. He shares that having a go-to decompressing activity can be a balm — his is driving around and watching the city be itself. Not trying to change it, just to observe. “It’s my escape, physical and mental, to bring a little personal peace and quiet. LA can be loud and overwhelming sometimes, but at its core, it’s magic.” That’s how I’ve found my peace here, by breathing it all in and embracing those tiny things that feel like magic: The steam from my coffee dissipating into the morning sun, the runaway gold balloon making its escape into a blue sky lined with rooftops. The way strangers and I roll our eyes together at distracted drivers in the crosswalks. The clack—cl—clack—cl—clack sound of my ceiling fan when the late afternoon sun is scalding the walls of my concrete building. The lonely coat stand lying by the sidewalk, and me wondering if I should take it home to repair it. Wherever you live, I hope you can find the music in the madness; it is there, I promise. It is just our job to pause, quiet ourselves, and listen for it. Or sometimes, maybe, make the music ourselves. Emily McGowan is the Editorial Director at The Good Trade. She studied Creative Writing and Business at Indiana University, and has over ten years of experience as a writer and editor in sustainability and lifestyle spaces. Since 2017, she’s been discovering and reviewing the top sustainable home, fashion, beauty, and wellness products so readers can make their most informed decisions. Her editorial work has been recognized by major publications like The New York Times and BBC Worklife. You can usually find her in her colorful Los Angeles apartment journaling, caring for her rabbits and cat, or gaming. Say hi on Instagram!0

Here in New England, the tips of the oldest trees have turned. It’s nippy when I go outside in the morning, and it’s no longer light until 8:30 p.m. Fall has officially blown in.

Not everyone lives in the autumn capital of the world like I do, but having a cute fall has nothing to do with how orange the leaves in your neighborhood are! Everyone can achieve a fall aesthetic no matter where you are — all it takes is some inspiration.

Think of the classic fall setting of the town of “Stars Hollow” from “Gilmore Girls” — warm, deep hues, pumpkins, leaf garlands, cozy sweaters, and leather jackets. Adding these elements to your daily routine can help you get into the fall spirit! Activities like leaf peeping can also help you embrace fall nature from a new perspective. Achieving the autumnal aesthetic you’ve been craving is easier than you think!

Here you’ll find nine ways to curate your perfect fall — what to cook, how to decorate, what to read, and things to do.

1. Feast on fall food

Probably the most satisfying way to ring in the season is to cook something delicious! Maybe you have a favorite autumn baked good — pumpkin muffins always show up in my kitchen at some point by early October or perhaps you’d prefer trying your creative hand at making pumpkin-shaped gnocchi!

I’m a sucker for pumpkin spice coffee, so I like to make my own dairy-free pumpkin spice creamer with maple syrup to throw in my pour-over every morning — although I will go to Dunkin Donuts on the first chilly morning of September and get a pumpkin spice iced coffee, just to make sure it still tastes the same! Chai has also been a go-to fall drink for me — nothing hits better than a steamy cup in the morning or adding a shot of espresso to make it dirty!

One of my favorite fall activities is heading to the farmers’ market for in-season ingredients — for me, that means lots of root veggies like carrots and sweet potatoes, plus all kinds of squash, corn, and apples. I try to plan my meals around what I can grab at the market.

After pumpkin creamers, pies, and any other concoctions, I use the leftover can of pumpkin puree (that inevitably ends up in my fridge) by dumping it into a curry with cubed potatoes and butternut squash, or — hear me out — mixing it into tomato sauce with some parmesan cheese for a deliciously warm and creamy pasta dish.

 

2. Add fall colors to your space

Fall decor shouldn’t mean buying a bunch of new decorations that’ll end up stored in a closet for 10 months a year. The best fall decor is anything you can buy from the farm (or from the front of the grocery store!) — pumpkins, gourds, dried corn. I use sugar pumpkins so I can cook them when they’re done sitting out on the front stoop, and the gourds can go in the compost in December.

Fresh flowers in warm colors do the trick, too. Look into some local flower producers near you and shop from them as much as possible, and throw the flowers into repurposed spaghetti jars or second-hand vases. Thrift stores and apps are also great for finding pretty new pots, jars, or wooden decor.

 

3. Incorporate cozy fall textiles in your home

Don’t underestimate the power of textiles! I put orange textured pillow covers on throw pillows and make sure I have lots of cozy blankets around. My favorite type of blankets are the chunky knit ones as the thick, knotted structure screams fall, especially in shades like beige, mustard yellow, or rusty red. (Bonus if it’s a weighted blanket — it feels like the perfect warm hug on a chilly fall evening!) Sometimes, I’ll also switch out regular dish towels, placemats, and napkins for something bright and kitschy. And we can’t forget the floors — a nice, plush, area rug in velvet, plaid or tartan can sometimes be all you need to truly transform your space into a fall revel!

Texture isn’t only limited to the fabric pieces in our home. Adding wicker or woven storage baskets adds the much-needed autumn charm, plus they’re perfect for storing those blankets when not in use. I also love switching out my silverware for copper-toned ones for that extra rustic oomph.

 

4. Fill your home with fall scents, sounds, & lighting

Of course, nothing sets a fall mood quite like a candle (or five). To reduce waste, I like to make my own candles. Sites like Makesy make it easy to buy soy wax, wood wicks, and mix-and-match fragrances. I make a big batch of warm spicy candles each fall, then use those same jars to make a new collection of floral candles each spring. My go-to fall scents usually involve some combination of cinnamon, vanilla, amber, patchouli, and sandalwood. If you prefer scenting your space without candles, essential oil diffusers are a great choice as you can switch out the oils to match the mood and season as you’d like!

Speaking of candles, lighting is truly everything! If fall time in your area consists of bright and sunny days, it doesn’t mean you still can’t bring the snug, homey vibes of fall into your home. Candles can definitely up the ambiance, as well as adding fairy lights to your home or backyard for that amber glow. Adding warm-toned drapes or curtains, and switching out the bulbs in your home to warm-tone lighting is another way to add a seasonal fall aura to your space. Personally I never use my overhead lights, rather I use lamps for that cozy, mellow vibe. And if you have a working fireplace, what better time to break out the lighter and set the mantle!

While I don’t have a fireplace in my space, one of my favorite and easiest things I love to do is play the sounds of crackling fire or some coffee shop jazz while I work. Playing songs that get you in the fall spirit is a must and is probably the easiest way to embrace the season. These songs are a for sure way to get in the fall mood: “Roslyn” by Bon Iver and St. Vincent, “Sweater Weather” by The Neighborhood, “Autumn in New York” by Ella Fitzgerald and Louis Armstrong, and “There She Goes” by The La’s.

 

5. Break out your fall wardrobe

Pulling out sweaters and jeans on the first cool day inaugurates the official start of the season for many. If you need to add to your wardrobe this year, check out secondhand shops in your community or this guide to thrifting online. If you’re buying new, check out our guide for sustainable sweaters, or consider one of our favorite fall trends: Sustainable cowgirl boots.

Most importantly — dress how you feel most comfortable! It doesn’t get cold everywhere in September and October. Maybe your fall means you can wear short plaid skirts outside comfortably. I’m jealous! Head to Pinterest if you need fall fashion inspiration for warm climates, like sleeveless sweaters and dark-colored dresses and skirts. (Dark/light academia anyone!?)

 

6. Explore where you live

Get outside and explore where you live this fall, whether that means visiting your favorite farm for a hayride, hiking through nature, or just getting downtown to a bookstore.

If you can, plan a day or two to go somewhere you’ve never been. Look for county fairs, fall festivals, or Renaissance fairs near you, or go to a local brewery or cidery. Maybe you head to a new-to-you nature preserve or grab your pumpkins from a different farm this year. The perfect fall Saturday sometimes involves seeing where the day takes you.

Here’s a tip: Apple picking doesn’t have to be a requirement.

 

7. Spend time with loved ones

My most cherished autumn memories have always involved other people — carving pumpkins with friends, visiting a fair with my family, watching fall movies with my partner.

You can put on the most perfect fall outfit to go sip a PSL under a brilliantly orange tree, but the moments you’ll remember won’t be the ones you did for the ‘gram. I don’t remember what scent I used for my candles last fall, but I remember giving my friend a pumpkin beer for the first time and making the ugliest sweet potatoes I’ve ever seen for a potluck. Spend time with people you love this season, whatever that looks like for you.

 

8. Slow down and embrace the season

Savor the slowing down of the season. The packing in for winter, the shortening days, the quieting. As the air grows and your social calendar cools down, maybe you take this time to work on slowing down your thoughts by journaling or practicing gratitude, or maybe you finally try out therapy.

Maybe slowing down means you take up a new hobby you’ve been meaning to try — knitting, canning, soap carving — you name it. Leaf peeping has also been popping up lately and is the perfect way to appreciate the fall foliage in all its glory. This guide can help you locate where you can find the most spectacular fall foliage in your state.

You can also slow down by brewing some piping hot tea, lighting a candle, and settling in with a book or a favorite movie. There’s hardly a better (or easier) way to set the autumn mood. Some evenings, I even love to jump on Tumblr or Pinterest and beam fall imagery into my brain.

 

9. Immerse yourself in fall with books & TV

Fall wouldn’t be complete without the coziest TV shows! A few of our personal favorites include “Gilmore Girls”, “Stranger Things”, “Chilling Adventures of Sabrina”, “Wednesday”, and “Friday Night Lights” (all of which are on Netflix). If true stories are more your thing, check out this list of docuseries on Netflix.

Some classic fall movies we watch year after year are “When Harry Met Sally”, “It’s the Great Pumpkin”, “Charlie Brown and A Charlie Brown Thanksgiving”, “Hocus Pocus”, “You’ve Got Mail”, and “The Nightmare Before Christmas”. Other fall options include “Knives Out”, “Practical Magic”, and the entire “Harry Potter” series.

If you’re a reader, immerse yourself in a fall book — anything by Donna Tartt (“The Secret History”), Shirley Jackson (“The Haunting of Hill House”) or Ray Bradbury (“Something Wicked This Way Comes”) does it for me. Moodier options might be “The Picture of Dorian Gray” by Oscar Wilde or “Northanger Abbey” by Jane Austen, and cozier reads include “Arsenic and Adobo” by Mia P. Manansala or “Autumn” by Ali Smith.

 

Natalie Gale is a Boston-based freelance journalist. When she’s not writing about art, food, or sustainability, you can find her biking to the farmers’ market, baking, sewing, or planning her next Halloween costume. Say hi on Instagram!

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