I had a thought in the shower after getting back from a recent weekend in Newport with close friends: girls’ trips are in fact focus groups.

A group of women in their 30s sharing a hotel room for a long weekend will no doubt lead to an unpaid qualitative research study. Everyone’s toiletry bag is exposed, suitcases are exploding across the floor, someone needs to borrow someone’s [insert forgotten travel necessity here]. It’s the closest thing to a live product demonstration I have ever experienced.

It doesn’t take much to be flooded by product recommendations from aspirational influencers with hair/skin/homes/etc. you have never seen IRL. Social media obviously makes it easy to understand what products are trending and what brands people are currently flocking to, but on a girls’ trip no one is trying to influence you, which as it turns out is exactly why it works. You get to see products you may have been eyeing exist in their natural habitat, which for me is far more convincing than almost anything else on the internet.

A girls’ trip provides the context people don’t mention in their GRWMs, and context is of course everything. I know who heat-styles their hair every morning, who never washes their makeup brushes, who impulse buys and who has had the same moisturizer on their bathroom counter for the last five years.

A trip with your friends lets you test and see something on someone whose body, hair, personal style and buying habits you actually know. You get to find out whether the styling cream is the missing ingredient for your slicked-back summer hair, if the canvas hat you keep coming back to is worth the splurge, or whether you actually need to make room for milky toner in your skincare routine.

By the end of the weekend I’d spent $100 on products I had tested my way into and validated a few hundred dollars’ worth of stuff I already owned. All it took was borrowing everyone’s stuff and letting them borrow mine. Nobody was selling anything and yet everybody bought something.

Here’s what got a unanimous vote of confidence:

Crown Affair Smoothing Air Dry Cream + Finishing Gel

Crown Affair’s styling cream and gel are well worth it. They smell great, control flyaways and keep baby hairs in place without feeling like there’s anything in your hair. We all have different hair textures ranging from straight/fine to wavy/thick and took turns squeezing the last drops out of my friend’s bottles during the trip. I ordered my own set as soon as I got home.

Lack of Color Canvas Holiday Bucket Hat

This bucket hat is a 10/10. Tried and tested by four women with different complexions and head sizes, we all looked good in the beige in size Medium/Large. The ties are great for windy days, but can also be tucked away if that’s not your vibe. The brim folds to meet your level of sun protection and it’s easy to pack without destroying the hat.

Buck Mason Parachute Poplin Pants

People are apparently talking about the Leset Kyoto Carpenter Pant? IDK her, but my Buck Mason pants (at almost half the price) were apparently a good “dupe” according to those in the market. They have a relaxed fit through the hip and leg, don’t wrinkle too easily and are a great lightweight pant to throw on after the beach or to walk around town.

Homéoplasmine

The French pharmacy staple does indeed reign supreme. Great for dry lips, eczema spots, irritation, you name it. It’s an ointment similar to Aquaphor, but better because you get to say you got it in France! Not linking this one because there are a lot of counterfeits online so it’s worth getting from an actual pharmacy or a friend going to France.

The jury’s still out on:

Vacation Chardonnay Oil SPF30

Smells and spreads okay, but it’s messy, doesn’t absorb well and transfers. Fine in a pinch, but wouldn’t be the one I reach for. Plus at least one of us got a sunburn wearing it (though to be fair, that was most likely user error). I currently prefer this one from Bask or this one from Supergoop.

Eadem Le Chouchou Exfoliating + Softening Peptide Lip Balm

I was outvoted, but I’m not convinced. Three out of four women on our girls’ trip approved Eadem’s message, but in my opinion there’s nothing an overpriced lipgloss can do for me that the aforementioned Homeoplasmine can’t.

Byoma Milky Toner

Unsure. Half of us swore by Byoma’s Milky Toner. One of us had just ordered a different brand to try and the other couldn’t justify adding yet another step to their skincare routine. Further testing is required so we’ll have to come back to this one after another girls’ trip.

Purposely not tested:

Lettuce (or uncooked greens of any kind)

We were all shitting a brick about shitting a brick and agreed because of the Cyclospora outbreak at the time we would avoid any uncooked greens the entire weekend. We survived on lobster, french fries and martinis.

Either way, it turns out the best product testing lab is in a hotel room where four women have to share a bathroom.

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The four hair tools I own are also the four I never bought. Each entered my life by chance and none were the result of weeks of obsessive research (which is incredibly off-brand for me).

I should flag up front that these brushes were either stolen or gifted. This is important context because it’s often easy to love something you didn’t pay for. Spending someone else’s money might remove an entire layer of scrutiny, but it doesn’t remove the test of time.

Some of the brushes are newer than others so I’ve split them into two categories. Two are settled after years of use while the others are still under review.

Settled

Mason Pearson Dressing Comb (C1)

Let’s start with my most prized possession of the bunch: the comb.

I don't know how the tooth broke. Maybe in a moving box somewhere between Brooklyn and Miami.

I’m not sure if I stole it from my now husband that way or if it broke in my custody. I usually notice everything, but this comb has simply existed in my drawer, reliably doing its job over the course of seven years, through a move, a wedding and a baby.

I’ve never considered replacing it.

I have long, thick, wavy hair. Every inexpensive comb I owned before that flexed the moment I tried to part my hair. I’d start a center part, hit resistance and watch the teeth bend sideways instead of continuing through. I could never get a clean line.

I wasn’t looking for anything fancy, I just needed a comb that didn’t lose every single argument with my hair.

The Mason Pearson Dressing Comb is double-sided, with fine teeth on one half and wider teeth on the other. The fine side gives me the cleanest center part I’ve ever had. It doesn’t flex or catch. It goes exactly where I want it to, missing tooth and all.

Once my part is done, I flip it over and use the wider teeth to gently comb through the rest of my hair without unnecessary pulling, especially around my crown, where I’d prefer to keep every strand I have.

One small detail that makes me appreciate it even more is that Mason Pearson brushes are made in England, but the combs are manufactured in Switzerland by a company that specializes exclusively in combs. That’s the level of attention that could really get me to justify a purchase.

Would I replace it with my own money?

Immediately. It’s the only thing on this list I’d order again the same day if it disappeared, but I’d have my husband buy it so I could steal it again.

This comb has definitely earned its keep.

Mason Pearson Pocket Bristle & Nylon Hairbrush BN4

I’ve had this one for five or six years. It was a gift from a friend who somehow found it at Costco, which feels like either the least or most aspirational way to acquire a cult British hairbrush.

Mine is the bristle-and-nylon version, and I think that’s the one most people with thick hair actually want.

Pure boar bristle is better suited for finer hair. Pure nylon is primarily for detangling. The combination gives me both. If you have thick hair and buy the all-boar version because it’s the one everyone photographs, I suspect you may be disappointed without immediately knowing why.

This brush lives in my toiletry bag. It’s traveled everywhere with me, and as you can see it’s incredibly well-loved.

Would I replace it with my own money?

Yes. Every time I’m at Costco, I roam the aisles hoping it has returned. I don’t need a replacement, but there’s something absurdly satisfying about making a luxury beauty purchase at the same place you can buy a rotisserie chicken and a 48-pack of paper towels.

This too has earned its keep.

Still Under Review

La Bonne Brosse No. 02

I’ve been using this since it was gifted to me on my birthday in October 2025.

It’s French, made with boar and nylon bristles, and its twisted handle is beautiful to look at and feels great in the palm of your hand. Seeing it on my vanity brings me joy and it makes brushing my hair feel like a special ritual. IDK what magic they’re cooking up in France, but my hair feels soft and shiny after every pass.

And yet the strongest endorsement I can give isn’t actually about mine.

I bought one as a gift for my husband’s stepmom who is almost impossible to shop for. She loved it. Gifting is the higher bar. After all, you’re putting your money and your taste on the line.

Would I replace it with my own money?

Yes (and ahem, technically I did), but ask me again in another three years.

Oribe Teasing Brush

I’ve owned this for two months after it came in a care package in the mail (I have great friends). I don’t believe that’s enough time to tell you it’s forever, but we’re getting along great so far.

Its job is simple: smoothing baby hairs and flyaways when I wear my hair slicked back.

Compared to the inexpensive Amazon version I already owned, the biggest difference is the bristle density. The bristles are packed more tightly together, giving you noticeably better grip and control around your hairline.

That’s a real, albeit small improvement.

For some people, that extra control will absolutely justify the price. For others, the Amazon version will do just fine. Slightly better isn’t automatically worth paying more for, but I will say the Oribe one is beautiful to look at.

Would I replace it with my own money?

I honestly don’t know yet.

Of the four, the one I’d grab in a fire is the one I stole from my husband at the beginning of our relationship, and it’s missing a tooth.

It wasn’t a carefully researched purchase. It wasn’t even my purchase. It just quietly kept doing its job, year after year, until I forgot there had ever been a problem to solve in the first place.

This was yet another reminder that research doesn’t buy attachment. The products I love the most are usually the ones that have kept their promises for years until I stopped noticing them altogether.

Buy the comb. Sit with the rest.

Receipts

Verdict: Proven: the Mason Pearson comb and pocket brush. Still Under Review: La Bonne Brosse No. 02 and Oribe Teasing Brush

What they replaced: A drugstore comb, a Tangle Teezer and an Amazon Bristle Brush

What would change my mind: Honestly, nothing.

Revisit: June 2027

The sheets left an impression on me long after I checked out so much so that I called the hotel about a week later to ask them who made them. “Somma 1867,” said the woman on the phone who seemed accustomed to providing guests with that answer.

Something about how matter-of-fact she was and how easily I was able to gather this intel made me feel like I would be swimming in my own version of the Baccarat Hotel bed in no time.

I fired up a Chrome tab only to discover that I didn’t actually know which sheets I was looking for and that none of the dimensions on Somma 1867’s website matched my mattress size.

I emailed Somma 1867. No response. I emailed again and still nothing. This sent me into an obsessive spiral. I needed these sheets. In my mind, they had somehow become the missing piece. I started down a rabbit hole researching bedding brand after bedding brand all while remaining hopeful that Somma 1867 would get back to me. I searched for Somma 1867 distributors, called the Baccarat hotel back to see if they could sell me sheets, and tried keyword after keyword, only to come up empty-handed.

It was time to pivot. I got a set of sheets at the Frette outlet and I remember feeling so chic and mature. If I couldn’t have the Somma 1867 set I dreamed of/in, then a brand as renowned as Frette would be an excellent consolation prize. There’s just something about making your bed with a fresh set of fancy sheets that slaps so hard. That euphoric feeling lasts all of about 30 seconds though if your bedroom isn’t a luxury hotel suite.

I suddenly realized what my brain was up to in trying to recreate that restful night of sleep. I thought I could simply buy my way back into a memory.

But the thing is my bedroom already had blackout shades, a great mattress, crisp AC and a beautiful silk quilt I scored at the Frette outlet (10/10), but my bedroom was never going to be the Baccarat Hotel because the Baccarat Hotel doesn’t have a dishwasher I need to unload or a pile of laundry I need to put away(!!!).

We experience luxury as though it’s the result of a single extraordinary object when it’s almost always the accumulation of dozens of very thoughtful decisions.

Yes, of course the sheets mattered. But so did the fact that someone else made the bed, that the hotel had a signature scent, that this was one of the last trips my husband and I took before our baby arrived, that I felt energized after hanging out with friends I hadn’t seen in a long time in one of my favorite cities in the whole wide world.

The moment I managed my own expectations I was able to realize that importing sheets from Italy wasn’t going to be the life-changing purchase I expected. Note to self and anyone else who obsesses over homewares thinking fancy textiles will turn you into a new person: luxury isn’t one perfect thing, it’s a bunch of tiny things working together.

Looking back, it’s actually pretty funny that I believed the answer to better sleep was hidden inside a textile mill in Como that continues to ghost me.

In the meantime, here’s where I landed in the sleep department. Flagging that my only real test for whether something is worth it is whether I’ve stopped noticing (obsessing over) it.

Frette Sheets and Aeptom Sheets

While the search continues for the perfect sheets, I’m currently alternating between Frette and Aeptom.

Both brands are good, not great, and leave me wanting more.

The Frette are 100% cotton, beautiful and feel luxe. They are sateen, which sleeps warmer than I want in Miami, and they started pilling after a few washes (despite using my washer and dryer’s delicate setting). I don’t remember the exact amount I paid at the outlet, but it was somewhere around a quarter of the retail price, which is why I highly recommend checking out the outlet before purchasing full-price.

The Aeptom are 100% Viscose derived from FSC-certified Organic Bamboo. They’re cold to the touch almost to the point they feel damp (in a crisp, good way), but are a bit too slippery for my taste. If you like your quilt and sheets to stay aligned and employ any form of a hospital tuck to your bed making, these are unlikely the sheets for you.

From my research I learned that Somma 1867 is a 150-year-old manufacturer based in the Lake Como region of Italy. It originally started out as a wool mill before it started making the most perfect sheets known to womankind. In addition to its consumer site, it has a separate line called “La Suite” where custom products are made for hotels, yachts, spas, etc. My best guess is the sheets I slept on were made bespoke for the Baccarat. Probably the most useful thing I learned is that Somma 1867 markets its cotton percale on being cool, light and breathable, which is exactly what I’m currently missing. What clearly matters more than the brand is the weave.

Still on my list to try (percale obviously):

• Somma 1867 ;(

• Sferra

• Matouk

• Anything I’m missing?

Purple Plus vs. Saatva Classic

We upgraded our Queen Purple Plus to a King Saatva Classic mattress and never looked back. The Purple was great, but as someone who sleeps on both my stomach and side, I realized I prefer a mattress with a little less give. I never think about it anymore, which now that I think about it may be the highest compliment I can give.

Blackout Shades

The automatic ones in our bedroom came with our house and I can’t believe I ever lived my life without them. Six months ago we had them installed in my daughter’s room. They cost ~$5K for two big floor-to-ceiling windows (we live in Miami, in case that’s helpful context). They were another purchase I stopped noticing immediately—well, until one of the new ones started squeaking. We’re invoking warranty rights, so I’ll share the brand once that gets resolved.

Byredo Tree House Room Spray

On days where I’m feeling a bit extra, I’ll give my sheets a spritz of Byredo’s Tree House room spray. The Baccarat Hotel has its signature scent and my bedroom has this one.

The purchases that work disappear. The ones that don’t get a Substack written about them. Somma 1867, if you’re reading this, check your email!

I convinced myself that the problem was one missing piece. First it was a runner. Then a bench. Then art. Then a “live plant that can survive in a windowless room” (tbd if that exists). Then chic, sculptural hooks that don’t look like hooks. Then a mirror. Then the walls. Then I convinced myself I needed a $500 storage basket because that’s what cultured adults do.

And then during a rabbit hole search for “best hallway runners” I had an epiphany. When I go to someone’s house, I’m not inspecting the pile of their rug or mentally grading the smoothness of their walls. I couldn’t tell you what their cabinet hardware looked like, but I could definitely tell you exactly how their home made me feel.

This made me realize that what I wanted wasn’t just a beautiful hallway with a “washable, chic, understated, wool, but maybe not wool, but definitely high traffic, custom-size, that doesn’t break the bank” runner (all search terms I actually used). I wanted to be able to walk through my front door and have my shoulders drop out of my ears.

A single textile, no matter how beautiful, could not give me that.

This meant I was asking myself (and ChatGPT) all the wrong questions. I wasn’t really looking for the “chicest hallway runner under $1,000.” I was trying to understand why walking into my house made me feel so blahhh.

I naturally spend way too much time thinking about the projects I would tackle if money were no object. There’s the kitchen, the bathrooms, the custom millwork. They’re easy to obsess over because they are the projects everyone notices. They’re dramatic, and make for great before-and-afters.

But no one experiences their home by admiring each room in isolation. We instead experience them sequentially and the first 10 seconds I spend in my hallway when I get home set the tone for everything that comes after.

Okay, so does this mean I need not buy anything and that I should be happy with what I have since I’m chasing a feeling and not a magic physical thing that solves all my problems? Absolutely not, but the moment I understood the feeling I was trying to create, every design decision suddenly became much easier.

Here’s what earned a place in my hallway and why.

One quick note: Some links below are affiliate links; I may earn a small commission at no extra cost to you. As an Amazon Associate, I earn from qualifying purchases. I link to things I've bought, things I've rejected, and things I'm still deciding on. I'll always say which.

Walls

Limewash. I want the walls to feel like they’re wrapping around you instead of reflecting overhead light back at you. I limewashed my daughter’s room a couple years ago and was surprised by how much the texture softened the entire space. It made the room feel less like painted drywall and more like a place that had been lived in.

Runner

Going custom. I’m between this custom rug from Ernesta and this one from Nordic Knots. The biggest lesson from this rabbit hole (aside from finding a deeply validating study that suggests women may experience cluttered homes differently than men), was that the length of my runner mattered more than almost anything else. My current Revival runner is too short and too narrow, which makes it feel like it randomly landed there rather than belonging there.

Storage

A basket that earns its keep. My daughter’s shoes aren’t going anywhere and unfortunately neither are my husband’s Lussos. Instead of pretending they don’t exist I’m going to give them a home that contributes to the space, plus as mentioned above I have already convinced myself I need it. I’m leaning towards Ferm Living’s ceramic woven basket because it will function as storage without looking like storage.

Hooks

Hiding what doesn’t need to be seen. My tennis bag now hangs around the corner instead of greeting everyone who walks through the front door. It cost me exactly $0 and made a bigger difference than several things I’d actually spent money on.

What’s next?

I’m intentionally stopping here.

Another version of me would have immediately started shopping for a mirror, art, lighting, etc., but this current version of me wants to live with these changes first. If the hallway feels unfinished (or is still giving me agita) in a few weeks, then I’ll decide what’s missing.

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Recently, I have realized that when it comes to making any decision (big or small), what really gets me going is figuring out what problem I’m actually trying to solve. This has quietly reshaped my thought process and changed how I make almost every decision.

Every time I think I need to buy something, I end up asking a completely different question. The thought usually starts pretty innocently. Something like…

“These sheets are pilling, I need to get new ones”

“Something’s missing, I think the hallway could use a new runner”

“I’m thinking of switching from Delta to American Airlines”

“I’ve been working out a lot more so I should probably get an Oura ring.”

And then before I know it, I am alternating between Pinterest, ChatGPT, Claude, Perplexity, 57 Chrome tabs, a group chat with friends and waking up my husband just as he’s about to fall asleep thinking through tradeoffs, opinions and feelings.

Somewhere along this process, the question almost always changes. It goes from, “Which version of this thing that I have convinced myself I need should I buy?” to “What problem am I truly trying to solve here?” I have realized that those aren’t always the same things.

So “what are the best king size sheets under $250?” quickly becomes, “how to make getting into bed every night feel like a 5-star hotel experience?”

“Where can I store 300 Magna-tiles without my house looking like a daycare?” leads me down a rabbit hole of researching custom millwork, convincing myself I need to replace my stair railing and accidentally developing an entire design philosophy.

I keep having these research sessions (some more intense than others) that make it nearly impossible for me to provide a straightforward, one-word answer.

My friends have started asking me before they buy things because they know I’ve probably already gone down the rabbit hole.

I no longer care about what’s objectively “best.” I care about what’s best for this specific person, in this specific season of life, solving this specific problem. Spoiler alert: those answers don’t always line up.

None of this is to say I’m an expert. (I’m definitely not!) This is just how my brain works and I have already done the work and figured I might as well write it down so the next person doesn’t have to start from scratch. If it prompts any thoughts on why I’m wrong (especially if you have owned something for longer than I have, found something I might have missed or think I have completely misunderstood the problem), I’m all ears.

One thing worth mentioning (that I find interesting) is that I almost never ever start with Google when I need to research something anymore. Most of the time, I use AI to help me compare options, surface brands I may not have considered and pressure-test my thinking. I’ll browse Pinterest for inspo, read reviews, check Reddit if it feels relevant, look at brand sites, poll my really smart and super chic friends, ask my husband and compare different perspectives. AI is part of my process, but it can’t tell me what my taste is and what feels like me. AI can compare products, but it cannot tell me what I’ll love living with.

So that’s how I’m approaching sat with it. It’s my research notebook and a place to share what I’m learning, what changed my mind, where I landed and sometimes why I decide not to buy the thing at all. I’ll write about products, travel, home decor, parenting, tech, work, etc. It’s really about any decision that is worth sitting with for a little longer.

Hopefully you’ll borrow some of my research, tell me when I’m wrong, and/or start asking a few different questions of your own.

Welcome to sat with it.