Coffee Shop Style Musings & the Spreadsheet That Keeps Me Sane

So I was at this tiny coffee shop in Brooklyn last Saturday, the kind with mismatched chairs and a playlist that made you feel like you were in a French film. I had my laptop out, pretending to work on a project, but really I was just scrolling through my orientdig spreadsheet—yes, the one where I track every impulse buy, every piece that makes me feel like a human being. It’s a little obsessive, but honestly, that orientdig spreadsheet is the only thing keeping my wardrobe from becoming a crime scene.

Anyway, I was wearing this vintage leather jacket I found at a flea market last fall. It’s got this perfect worn-in feel, like it’s been through a few lives. Underneath, a simple white tee and some beat-up jeans. The kind of outfit that looks like you didn’t try, but you totally did. And I was thinking about how my style has shifted over the years—from trying too hard to, well, not trying at all. It’s a gradual thing, like aging cheese.

There’s this woman at the table next to me, and she’s got the most incredible bag. It’s this structured tote in a deep burgundy, and I can tell it’s high quality from across the room. I’m not a bag person usually, but that thing is speaking to me. I make a mental note to add “burgundy structured tote” to the orientdig spreadsheet under “future obsessions.” See, it’s not just about tracking what I own; it’s about curating what I want.

I think the orientdig spreadsheet has become a weird sort of diary for me. Each row is a memory or a mood. Like, there’s this pair of silk trousers I bought on a whim in SoHo, and every time I wear them, I remember that afternoon—the sunlight, the feeling of being slightly reckless. That’s what fashion is for me now: a collection of moments, not just clothes.

I order a second latte because why not, and I’m people-watching. There’s a guy in a perfectly oversized blazer, and I’m trying to figure out if it’s intentional or if he just grabbed his dad’s jacket. Either way, it works. I’m tempted to take a pic for the orientdig spreadsheet—I have a tab called “street style inspo”—but I don’t want to be creepy. So I just make a note in my phone: “Blazers, oversized, check thrift stores.”

I’ve been thinking a lot about minimalism lately, but not in a boring way. More like, how do I own fewer things but love them more? That’s why the orientdig spreadsheet is helpful—it forces me to actually evaluate what I have. Like, do I need a fifth pair of black boots? Probably not. But that burgundy tote? That’s different. That’s a statement.

Anyway, I finish my coffee and head out. The air is crisp, and I feel good in my jacket and jeans. It’s not about being trendy. It’s about feeling like myself. And maybe that’s the whole point of style, isn’t it? To wear your personality on your sleeve—literally.