Cottagecore, but make it yours

Why aesthetic doesn’t mean aesthetic-only — and how to root your creativity in what truly nourishes you.

This morning I brewed a cup of tea while the light shifted across the table. There was quiet — not the perfect kind, but the kind that hums just beneath the surface of a busy life. I sat with my sketchbook open, rabbit with a mailbag taking shape on the page, half-finished but content to be unfinished.

That’s when I remembered: I didn’t choose this style to perform it. I chose it because it felt like home.

The Lure of the Aesthetic

Cottagecore often greets us through a screen. Soft linens, handwritten letters, a basket of bread resting on a gingham cloth — lovely images, lovingly curated. And for many of us, those images offer a breath of fresh air, a glimpse into a quieter life. I’ve saved them too. I still do.

But aesthetics can become a checklist. The “cottagecore life” — sometimes treated like something you have to buy into or perform. And if we aren’t careful, we begin to think the style is only real if it looks a certain way.

Slowness Isn’t a Prop

What drew me to this world wasn’t just the look of it, but the feeling of it — the longing for a slower pace, for gentleness, for moments that didn’t need to be efficient to be worthwhile.

Slowness is not a prop. It’s a practice. And for me, it looks different depending on the day. Sometimes it’s a ten-minute sketch with a toddler climbing into my lap. Sometimes it’s collecting weeds that bloom prettier than the flowers I planted. Sometimes it’s letting go of the to-do list in favor of a story.

None of it is staged. And none of it needs to be.

Your Version Might Be Messy (and That’s Perfect)

Not everything has to be vintage. Not everything has to be handmade. And not everything has to be shared.

Your version of this life might be mismatched mugs, thrifted books, wild drawings taped to the wall. It might be clinging to small rituals in the chaos — a spoonful of honey, a walk at dusk, an old radio playing softly in the background.

You don’t need a cottage to practice cottagecore. You don’t even need quiet. Just the desire to tend to something gently, even if it’s just your own attention.

Inhabit the World You Want to Create

I started Art Studio S.A.M. as a way to make space for the world I wanted to live in. A world where foxes wear aprons, mail is still handwritten, and kindness grows like clover along the edges.

Creating that world, even in small bits — a drawing here, a story there — feels like a kind of resistance to the rush. And I believe we can each do that in our own way. Not just through what we make, but through how we move in the world.

More slowness. More care. More noticing.

The Core of Cottagecore

At its heart, I think cottagecore isn’t really about lace curtains or sourdough starters. It’s about care. Care for the land. Care for each other. Care for the small and the beautiful and the often-overlooked.

It’s not a costume or a brand. It’s a way of seeing — a practice of attention.

And it’s yours to make your own.

Thank you for walking awhile with me,

Sam

The wildflowers don’t ask for permission — neither should your style. Cottagecore, but make it yours. 🌿