Why We Keep What We Keep
A little note on legacy, tradition, and timelessness both in design and life.
Not everything we keep is useful. Not everything we display is beautiful. And yet, so much of what makes a home feel like home is tucked into the quiet corners—the slightly tarnished silver tray, the recipe card with a fingerprinted corner, the embroidered hand towel that’s too delicate to use but impossible to throw away.
We keep what matters. Not because it matches the palette. Because it matches the memory.
In my own home, there are pieces that don’t announce themselves, but hold a kind of authority anyway. A blue-and-white bowl that belonged to my grandmother. My mother’s worn copy of Little Women, spine cracked, her maiden name penciled in the corner. They’re not centerpieces. But they center me.
NOTE: My favorite collected pieces are on sale for a limited time- use code STARSANDSTRIPES at checkout for 20% off on caitlinwilson.com.
As a designer, I spend so much time thinking about newness—the right hue, the latest collection, how a room should feel this season. But heirloom thinking asks something different. It’s not about trends or reinvention. It’s about continuity. It’s about honoring the things that have already stood the test of time—not just in style, but in story.
I think about how my children will remember our home. Not just the curtains or the color of the walls—but the rhythms. The rituals. The way the light always looked in the dining room before dinner. The way our Christmas decorations never changed. The way I lit a candle every evening, even if dinner was leftovers. These are the things they’ll keep. Not always physically—but emotionally. Spiritually.
Maybe that’s why I love a good chest of drawers. There’s always one that holds things you didn’t expect to save but couldn’t bear to part with. A baby bracelet. The place card from your wedding. It’s not curated. It’s collected. And it reminds you that some beauty is meant to live quietly.
So much of good design is knowing what to let go of. But just as much grace lies in knowing what to hold on to. What to frame. What to pass down. What to fold into the linen closet with care.
Because the best homes—like the best stories—aren’t built from scratch.
They’re layered. They’re inherited. They’re collected. They’re kept.
What a wonderful post. You continue to inspire me not only with your stunning style but your beautiful writing as well.
This is absolutely beautiful. I am in the midst of going through/clearing out decades of saved items -- from my late mother-in-law; from my own mother; and from the 35 (so far) very full years of raising a family. My adult kids are astounded at some of their treasures I've found -- and so am I! But also so grateful that I saved them, if only to provide for them (and me) a fleeting glimpse into their childhoods, into our family life over several decades, and into the things that were important to us. And still are! I will be sharing and re-sharing this with many friends in the same boat. Thank you for your thoughtful reflection!