September always carries a certain tenderness for me. It is the month of my mum’s birthday, and she remains my favourite person in the world to buy for. Some people are notoriously difficult to shop for, but not her. She loves many things with a wholeheartedness that makes choosing a gift a joy. I know that whatever I find, it will be received with delight, and I get to look forward to that moment when she unwraps it, her face lighting up at the thought behind it.
This year, I bought her a single porcelain coffee cup and saucer. Fine bone china, delicate but strong, the kind of cup that transforms an ordinary drink into something close to ceremonial. It may sound like a modest gift, just one cup and saucer, but I knew it was exactly the right thing. My mum does not do mugs. They are simply not her style. For her, coffee must be sipped, never gulped, and it must be enjoyed from proper drinkware, with a saucer placed carefully beneath.
And to be clear, we are not talking about the huge, almost soup-bowl cups and saucers you find in chain coffee shops. You will not find my mum in one of those places, unless my daughter drags her to one to try the latest matcha or trending drink. For Mum, it's about the elegance of a small cup of perfect coffee in a delicate saucer, something that feels considered and measured rather than excessive.
I loved the idea that every morning, as she pours herself that first cup, she might think of me. And equally, I will picture her, sitting quietly, savouring her coffee with intention. While I reach for instant granules and glug five cups a day without much thought, she makes time for one or two cups, and those moments feel elevated. It is a ritual, a considered action and something to be lingered over.
And it made me think. Somewhere along the way, we have let that ritual slip. Coffee and tea breaks have become functional, a quick dash to the kettle between emails, or a paper cup grabbed on the commute. Efficiency has overtaken ceremony. But what if we brought it back? What if we made the simple act of drinking tea or coffee into something more? Not necessarily elaborate or old fashioned, but intentional. An interlude in the day to pause, reset, and reconnect with ourselves.
This is where the objects we choose matter. A mug has its place, and there is comfort in wrapping your hands around a big, sturdy vessel. But a fine bone china coffee cup and saucer changes the experience. It asks you to sit down rather than wander around. It invites a plate of biscuits, a slice of cake, a linen napkin, a moment of stillness. Similarly, serving tea from a teapot or coffee from a cafetière slows the pace. These small, beautiful choices remind us that daily life does not have to be rushed.
And of course, vintage and antique pieces lend themselves beautifully to this. A set of mismatched vintage coffee cups, a well loved teapot, a delicate sugar bowl, they all add charm and ceremony to what could otherwise be a hurried sip. They whisper of households where time moved differently, when family and friends would gather at the table and a simple cup of tea stretched into an hour of conversation.
I think we are craving that again. The return of rituals and the pleasure of slowing down. The joy of making even the smallest daily acts beautiful. My mum has always known this. Her refusal to drink from mugs is less about fussiness, more about an instinctive understanding that life is richer when you honour the details.
This does not mean that we must all abandon mugs, but rather that we notice the difference. We might ask ourselves: what small rituals could I elevate today? Is it setting the table properly, even just for breakfast? Lighting a candle at supper? Choosing a beautiful vintage tea set instead of something plain? These are not indulgences. They are reminders that life is meant to be lived with joy.
And that is the heart of vintage living for me. It is not about nostalgia or being precious with objects. It is about choosing pieces that encourage us to live with presence. A vintage tea set encourages us to gather, to pour, to pause. A single bone china cup and saucer can turn an everyday coffee into a ritual. These things are not just functional. They shape the rhythm of our days and create moments of beauty in the ordinary.
So, next time you reach for a cup, pause for a moment. Could this be more than caffeine? Could it be a ritual?
Anna Rowsell,
The Blue Loft
