We’ve been told to keep things nice.
Save the good wine for guests. Don’t take the cashmere out if it might rain. Burn the “special” candle only when someone else is coming over to see it.

I think that’s a crime against pleasure.

Life isn’t a showroom. It’s scuffed and sun-faded and imperfect and so should the things in it be. Wear the silk to the grocery store. Burn the candle all day. Let the leather get scratched and the denim fray. The things you love should be part of your life - not sitting in a box, waiting for some arbitrary “special occasion” that may never come.

Use changes things and that’s beautiful

I love fine jewelry for this reason. I buy it so it can stay on me - building a patina over time that tells the story of my adventures, to someday be handed down and carry my story forward into new chapters.

Cashmere sweaters and t-shirts that get holes and tears only mean they’ve been loved to death. Repairing a chipped ceramic just means it’s been used, beaten up, and now reborn as something even more beautiful.

The tatters on the side of a couch from your cat prove the space is shared with creatures you love. Worn-down marble counters mark the many meals eaten with friends and family. A ring on a wooden table means that night of too many drinks also held just as many laughs.

Objects become yours when they carry evidence of your life in them. The idea of saving life for “another moment” is, frankly, a life wasted.

Luxury shouldn’t be fragile

Somewhere along the way, “luxury” got tangled up with “fragile.” As if something beautiful should sit untouched behind glass, admired but never used. I call bullshit.

The most luxurious objects are the ones that invite you in. They’re the ones you can wear, touch, and burn until they’re softened into your story.

This is why Circus exists

Every Circus candle is designed to be lived with. The skins might scuff. The wax will burn down. That’s the point. These vessels aren’t meant to hover in a state of perfection - they’re meant to create atmosphere, memory, and presence.

You don’t get that from restraint. You get it from excess.

Treat beauty like a daily vitamin, not a wedding dress. Burn it, wear it, scuff it, break it in.

Beat up the shit you love — make it your own.