The ceremonial ‘breaking in’ of next year’s desk diary has begun.
Along with fountain pens and notebooks, I still use a physical diary and during the course of the year it knits into the fabric of my very being.
I’m a woman of habit, so every year I order a new Moleskine planner. Sometimes it’s navy, usually it’s black.
I tend to opt for the week that runs over two pages format but this year I decided to strike out and buy the version that allows for notes only on the right hand side.
You have no idea how controversial this decision was and I kid you not, I dithered for the best part of a week.
In the past, I used to pop into the Moleskine store in Covent Garden, but I haven’t been to town recently so I bought one online instead and saved money using a Black Friday discount. Again, this is a departure from the norm but rest assured, myself and the diary are both doing well.
There’s something meditative about sitting with a new diary; the smell of the paper, the pristine ivory pages and the hope of what may fill the year ahead, all combine to produce a frisson of nerdy excitement.
I like the feel of this particular planner, and the bend factor is rather appealing too. I also enjoy the snap of the elastic closure band, the lazy drop of the ribbon bookmark and the fact that owning it makes me feel busy.
Cracking open a new one can be incredibly ritualistic.
I have a friend who, when it’s time to open her new planner, takes herself out for oysters and champagne, and spends the day filling the new book with all the personal information she needs. That’s god level diary etiquette, right there.
I don’t have quite her commitment to the process but I always make sure I have the important stuff transferred over, as well as my wifi password written down somewhere (just in case it vanishes mysteriously from the back of the router), and a silly, ‘If lost, please return to message’ written in the front, as embodied by this year’s useless information.
That being said, my Edith Piaf impersonation is, honestly, all the reward anyone needs.
I’ve kept them all, by the way.
There’s a stack of old Moleskines on the bookshelf. That sounds gross but it’s not. I did look at the them the other day and think, ‘Wow, that’s a lot of years gone by now’, and felt momentarily wistful. And then, for no apparent reason, rather proud.
They’re proof that I’m still here, plugging away, maybe?
Also, I don’t discard paper anythings easily.
I still have my trusty brown leather Filofax from the Nineties, which is packed with old contacts, Polaroids from shoots, party invites, ticket stubs and stickers. I occasionally flick through and have a chuckle at the old London area phone codes and plans that involved a lot of hair appointments, press events and partying.
Some things, if you’re a sentimental old fool like me, are just difficult to discard.
Although, right now, it’s all about 2025 and looking forward. If only so that one day I can look back.
Lisa