Okay, so I was scrolling through my phone the other day, trying to ignore the fact that my coffee had gone cold again, when it hit me – I’ve been wearing the same rotation of jeans and t-shirts for what feels like months. It wasn’t a dramatic, ‘I need a whole new wardrobe’ moment. More like a quiet nudge. You know that feeling? When you just want one or two things that feel a bit more… you. Or at least, the ‘you’ you feel like being this season.

Anyway, this vague feeling led me down the usual rabbit holes. A few tabs open for brands I like, a forgotten Pinterest board rediscovered. But it was all a bit scattered. I’d see a cool jacket on one site, then completely forget where I saw it or how much it was when I tried to find it again later. My brain is basically a sieve for that kind of info. I ended up with a notes app full of random, unhelpful lines like “green cargo pants??” and “that shirt from that place.” Not useful.

Then I remembered this thing my friend mentioned a while back. She’s super organized with her… everything. She was talking about how she keeps track of stuff she wants, not just clothes, but gadgets, books, you name it. She called it her personal curation spreadsheet. At the time, I kinda nodded along thinking, “Wow, that’s a lot of effort for a pair of sneakers.” But my chaotic notes app situation was starting to feel like a cry for help.

So, I caved. I opened up a spreadsheet. I didn’t go full corporate on it or anything. I just made a simple little grid. One column for the item, one for where I saw it, the price, and a link. And honestly? Game changer. It stopped being about frantic shopping and started being about… collecting ideas. I’d see a really interesting, oversized chore coat on a street style blog, drop the link in my style spreadsheet, and move on. No pressure to buy it right then. It was just there, waiting for me if I decided I really wanted it later.

The funny thing is, having this little digital mood board made me notice what I was actually drawn to. Without even trying, a theme emerged. Turns out, my brain this autumn is all about texture and one statement piece per outfit. I found myself saving a lot of corduroy, thick wool, and chunky knits. And instead of saving ten different loud shirts, I was saving one really good, interesting shirt and then thinking about the simple pants or skirt I could wear it with.

Take last weekend. I was meeting a couple of people for a lazy afternoon coffee. The weather was that perfect in-between – not quite coat weather, but too cool for just a tee. I looked at my spreadsheet (which lives happily in my cloud drive now, so I can peek at it from my phone) and remembered this specific, brushed cotton shirt-jacket I’d saved weeks ago. I’d completely forgotten about it! Because it was just sitting there in my wishlist tracker, I went back, checked it was still in stock, and actually bought it. It arrived on Friday.

Wearing it on Saturday felt weirdly satisfying. Not just because I liked the jacket, but because it felt like a considered choice, not an impulse buy. It had marinated in my spreadsheet for a bit, and I still wanted it. That’s a pretty good test. The rest of the outfit was simple – old black jeans, clean white sneakers. The jacket was the thing. And it felt great.

It’s not about the spreadsheet itself, really. It’s just a dumb grid. It’s about having a parking space for inspiration that isn’t my already-overcrowded brain. It turns the noise of a million online stores and Instagram posts into a slightly quieter hum of things I genuinely like. I’m not saying I’ll never make a random late-night purchase again (some habits die hard), but it’s nice to have a system that feels a bit more intentional.

Right now, I’m looking out the window, thinking I should probably make another coffee before this one gets cold too. My spreadsheet is open in another tab. There’s a pair of trousers in there I’ve been eyeing. They’re a weird olive-green corduroy. I’m still deciding. But it’s okay. They’re not going anywhere. They’ll just sit there in their little cell, waiting until I’m sure.