I often say, “I wish I were an heiress,” sometimes to my dad, who responds, “Yeah, me too, kid.”

Unfortunately, I am a mere working woman. A one-and-a-half-income household of one.

I don’t have a luxurious lifestyle with spa appointments, trips to Alps, lunch at the Polo Club, or staycations at the Chateau Marmont.

But I do have a life filled with small things and moments that make me feel like maybe I am one of those women who shops at Two Rodeo Drive. They remind me that joy can be found in unexpected places, even when they seem minuscule.

I call them my tiny luxuries.

A 10 a.m. Pilates class

In my opinion, working from home is the biggest perk of my job.

I love being able to squeeze in daytime errands, like the bank or post office, or do my dishes while tuning into a riveting companywide Teams meeting.

But my favorite way to steal a little bit of time is with a 10 a.m. Pilates class.

There is something ultra-luxurious about doing my leg circles and mermaids at a time usually reserved for emails, budgets, and spreadsheets.

The energy in these mid-morning classes is different from early morning or evening classes. They feel calmer, as if everyone has all the time in the world to do as they please—neither rushing to nor from anywhere.

For those fifty minutes, I pretend I’m just like the women in my class, able to choose how they spend a weekday, instead of a woman who works two jobs.

But who knows? Maybe they’re just faking it like me too!

Black cherries

Nothing says summer is here like black cherries!

As a kid, I remember my mom buying them for my sister and me, but only when they were on sale. They were so expensive even in the late nineties!

I still get excited when I see the first bags of the season at my local market—usually next to a sign that says $5.99 a pound. I immediately sympathize with my mother.

But it doesn’t stop me from purchasing a medium-sized bag.

At that price, these small, juicy, delicious pieces of seasonal produce feel like a special splurge.

A full tank of gas

I really don’t like pumping gas. Second only to doing laundry, it’s my least favorite task. Some of it is the logistics: pulling in on the correct side of the pump. It’s just annoying.

Part of it is that I don’t have the patience to stand there while the tank fills. Heaven forbid there is another car on the other side also getting fuel and slowing down the pump!

At times, I’ve pumped a sad $7 of gas just to get out of the rain or cold, or because I am completely over standing there.

Usually, I put in $25, minus the cost of a Pure Leaf iced tea, and do it again in two weeks—I don’t drive much.

That’s why, when I find myself with a full tank of gas, I know it was acquired during a rare moment when I slowed down enough to complete the task in its entirety.

And now on to the biggest time bandit: laundry.

An empty laundry basket

Laundry is my least favorite task in the world.

That’s dramatic, but I despise all of it: the sorting, the quarters, the stairs, and praying that the machines are available because I live in an apartment with just two shared washers and dryers.

Most of all, I hate the hours spent performing this mundane task.

That’s why, six years ago, I gave up doing laundry.

The premium I pay for a fluff-and-fold service is worth it to me and, surprisingly, not too expensive. Five weeks’ worth of laundry, including towels and sheets, averages about $45.

Would doing it myself be slightly cheaper? Maybe! But what I am paying for is the convenience.

To me, an empty laundry basket means my clothes are having a little sleepover while I use my laundry time for a trip to the mall or a pedicure.

Tomorrow, I’ll pick them up clean, folded, and sorted into neat piles, ready to return to their respective homes—until the journey begins again.

Calling an Uber without debating it

You might be wondering how I live in a city known for excessive driving yet have driven only 1,900 miles to date.

I am happy you asked.

Aside from working from home, I generally do anything I can to avoid driving and prefer to Uber.

So much so that I took eighty-five Ubers last year. I know that because Uber thinks it’s fun to send you an end-of-year wrap report—it’s not.

Also according to them, my most visited destination was the Springbok Bar & Grill, and my most frequently ordered restaurant was Popeyes Chicken.

Back to my point.

I never bargain with myself over whether the cost is justified, and I don’t worry about having a second drink because I’ve already made the safe choice.

Not every ride-share experience is amazing, but the convenience of ordering a ride and skipping the stress of driving, parking, and tracking down validation makes it worth it to me.

Living alone

I’ve had my fair share of roommate experiences.

Some positive, like living with my best guy friend in a place we affectionately called Club Chandler. Or moving to West Hollywood with a girlfriend during the COVID years.

Some not so positive, like the roommate in college who faked a kidnapping story or another who “single-white-femaled” me. Seriously, what else do you call moving into someone’s apartment, infiltrating their friend group, and hooking up with people they used to hook up with?

Exactly.

The point is, I never knew true happiness until I discovered the joy of living alone.

Living alone brings a different kind of independence. You realize what it means to have true freedom and also sole responsibility.

I love that I don’t have to negotiate space, privacy, aesthetics, or household habits. If I leave dishes in the sink or my shoes in the living room, the only person annoyed is me.

Having an entire home that operates according to my preferences might be one of the greatest luxuries of all.

A good face cream

I’m not talking about La Mer. After all, I said tiny luxuries, not bougie products.

Honestly, I can’t fathom how much a face cream would have to do for me to warrant $200 for one ounce.

But I do love a quality face cream—think Tatcha money.

There is something both physically and mentally purifying about washing off our makeup.

It feels like we aren’t just cleansing our skin but getting rid of anything weighing on us from the day—like your boss’s criticism or the unbearable traffic on the 405.

Afterwards, I reach for my face cream and use the tiny gold spoon to apply it, spreading the silky product with my fingertips in circular motions—from the apples of my cheeks up to my forehead and then down my neck.

I don’t know if these creams actually deeply moisturize, soften lines, or reduce imperfections, but the process makes me feel refreshed and ready to face another day.

A zero-balance credit card

I am no stranger to throwing things on a credit card.

Recently, I charged most of my Barcelona trip to my credit cards: the Airbnb, six flights, my new wardrobe, my Mallorca hotel, and other travel necessities.

In general, I charge a lot of extras, like vacations and entertainment, to credit cards.

That doesn’t mean I swipe haphazardly, but my balance can get a little up there at times. I usually pay it down in chunks until it returns to a more normal amount, but there is nothing like making that final, balance-clearing payment.

A sense of accomplishment overtakes me when I look at my account and see a zero balance. I feel lighter and on solid financial footing.

But the glee is always short-lived because inevitably the next statement will inevitably show a happy hour, grocery shopping trip, or Nordstrom purchase.

Buying flowers for no reason

I’m awful at keeping plants alive. I always have been.

I try to follow the care instructions, diagnose the plant’s grievances, and adjust accordingly, but no matter what I do, they perish—and pretty quickly.

Even the succulents suffer the same fate.

I’ve accepted that right now I’m an exclusively faux plant person, but I do like having something fresh in the house.

That’s where flowers come in.

While shopping at the market, I often pick up a moderately priced bouquet. Sometimes I choose sunflowers, which remind me of the ones my sister and I planted as kids that grew to be taller than us, or peonies, in hopes of channeling good luck and prosperity.

I believe flowers aren’t just things to be given or received. They can be an inexpensive treat that adds a touch of beauty, if only for a few days.

Getting the last stool at the bar

A while ago, my friend Katie and I were enjoying a day barhopping around our West Hollywood neighborhood—or what we called Sunday.

We went to the Belmont and then State House and somehow managed to get the last two bar stools at both spots.

At our next stop, Barney’s Beanery, a place riddled with day drinkers, we couldn’t believe our eyes: two remaining bar stools.

We exclaimed, “Wow, we’re the luckiest girls in West Hollywood today!”

It’s a kismet feeling when your plans and reality align perfectly, and getting that last bar stool feels like proof that the day was made to be.

On the surface, this list isn’t fancy in the traditional sense.

But I don’t think luxury is defined only by what can be purchased. I think it’s better reflected in the things that make your life feel full.

My luxuries may be small, but they give me things I consider priceless: time, convenience, comfort, and security.