If You Are the Chip, What Is Your Caviar

It is January, the middle of winter, and the first month of the year.

The new year often comes with some anxiety for me because we are conditioned to think that a new year means a fresh start, new beginnings, and everything that comes with it. So naturally, I turned to Pinterest. I was scrolling, looking for something to inspire me out of my cinnamon bun coma to change something about my life when I came across a close-up of a plate of chips, and in the middle was a dish of creme fraiche and caviar.

I have never had caviar, nor have I ever had the interest to try it, but I thought the idea of combining such a high-brow condiment with a .99 cent bag of chips was a step up for the chip. And of course, this being the time where we look to improve our lives, I started to think – my life in no means feels like caviar, I am a solid fixture in the chip category, but if a chip can find its caviar, can’t I?

The truth is, I do not feel like inventing a new version of myself that aligns with the glittery appeal of another new year. I am cozy and content by the fire, surrounded by family, warm lights easing me into the belief that I don’t have to do anything right now. All I want is to melt back into my couch and wait for the strawberry flowers to bloom in the spring.

Then I thought, “Isn’t this nice? No, this is luxurious”.

Finding Luxury in the Ordinary

I see this a lot with nature influencers who will go outside and sit under a tree next to a rushing river, calling it luxury. Now I’m not sitting under a tree or bathing in the river, but I think there is something to be said for finding the luxe inside the ordinary moments. Or, for the sake of this blog post, the chip has found its caviar.

In my effort to maintain my cozy winter arc, I have a revelation. Sitting by the fire with a stomach full of ham and cinnamon buns isn’t exactly skiing in Aspen, but it makes my life feel a little richer. Like combining the high and low of chips and caviar and encompassing it into something tangible that I could feel made the idea sink in, and I suddenly got the appeal.

So I started to think: since I am a chip, what other things would be my caviar equivalent, and how could I channel that energy into the new year?

If we are talking about indulging in this moment of comfort instead of finding a new persona to wear for a few weeks (let’s be honest), how do I turn simple into luxurious if I don’t romanticize or exaggerate it? I cannot afford caviar, but I can make my own bread and butter, and that should count for something. Especially since we are talking about indulgence, and I think good-quality bread and butter are heavily underrated.

Redefining What Luxury Means

But, you can only buy into that narrative if you’re willing to shift your mindset from what is socially acceptable luxury to what is your everyday luxury. Not necessarily the trees and the river, but a stripped-down version of the idea of luxury that emphasises soul nourishment instead of reaching for social or economic fulfillment.

I want that.

For instance, I asked my sister if she were a chip what her caviar would be, and after a few moments of debate, she said: gushers in bed watching the Twilight movies (1 and 2 respectively), a knitted blanket, a body pillow, and a heated blanket.

For me, it’s a candlelit shower instead of using the overhead light. The more candles, the better, and double the points if I remember to play a classical music playlist. The shower is my chip, and the candles and music are my caviar.

light & gather