I didn't exactly start 2026 off on a high note. As the New Year rolled in, I was recovering from the flu, sniffling as fireworks exploded across the city. I spent the next few weeks trying to get over a lingering cough while incessantly checking my phone for news updates; dread pooled in my stomach with each new headline.
I'm also approaching the 10th anniversary of my mom's death. Coupled with the fact that my grandmother passed just a few months ago, my grief is particularly heavy this winter. At times, the days feel like a slow march toward my least favorite one of the year.
Clearly, something had to give.
I knew I couldn't make my grief disappear or singlehandedly stop bad things from happening in the world, but I wanted to feel a little lighter if I could.
Conveniently, my winter blues peaked just as my social media algorithms started pushing the latest trend guaranteed to fix my life. My apps were flooded with posts about whimsy. It's the latest following the clean girl aesthetic, cottagecore, and maximalism trends, which weren't magic fixes for me.
I saw get-ready-with-me videos of people dressing in bright colors, and TikTok creators adding playful touches to their homes. I paused to read Instagram tips on how to incorporate more whimsy into my own life.
Admittedly, I even Googled: "What does being whimsical mean?" It seemed to come down to bringing levity to life when you can.
It also turned out I wasn't the only person looking into whimsy at the start of 2026. Google Trends data shows that interest in whimsy online increased steadily between 2025 and 2026, more than in prior years. There are nearly 2 million posts under #whimsical on Instagram, and several TikTok videos about creating a whimsical 2026 have nearly 1 million views.
The more I learned, the more intrigued I became. Sure, at first glance, whimsy seems to be about hosting Instagram-worthy dinner parties or swapping your plain tote for a hot-pink one, but I was drawn to the posts that talked about infusing life with childlike joy and centering community.
So, I decided to spend a few weeks embracing whimsy in my everyday life. I thought it might be fun, but I wasn't prepared for how it made me feel less alone.
A guide to being whimsical
As I scrolled through countless social media videos about whimsy — some featuring women adding pink accents to their homes, others with people curating elaborate dinner party menus — I felt a little lost about where to start. I decided my best bet was to turn to experts to nail down what whimsy entails before proceeding with my experiment.
Jenna O'Brien, the 27-year-old designer behind the Substack Feeling Magazine, has written at length about whimsy. She has also worked as both a middle school teacher and the owner of a stationery store, which means she spent her days either painstakingly designing playful paper products or bringing smiles to the lives of 12-year-olds. She pretty much nailed the mental image I had of a whimsical person.
"Sometimes, we forget that life is supposed to be fun."Angelina Draper"Whimsy is what happens when you're on the pursuit of joy," O'Brien told me. "To me, whimsy is getting back into touch with the things you were excited about when you were a kid."
O'Brien said whimsy has resonated with her since she read "Love Does" by Bob Goff, a memoir about Goff's quest to live life with love at the center, as a high school student in 2015, but when the pandemic hit in 2020, she came to see it as "essential" to the human experience.
"People walking through grief or loss, you still need moments where you delight in a meal that's your favorite thing to eat," O'Brien said. "You have to come up for air, even if things are really awful."
I also chatted with Angelina Draper, the cofounder of Morning People Matcha and a creator who makes whimsical content, who echoed O'Brien's sentiments.
"It has a lot to do with not taking life so seriously and yourself so seriously, and being more playful, more creative, sort of tapping into childlike energy," Draper, 28, said of whimsy.
Draper started thinking more consciously about whimsy when she created the podcast "On A Whim" in 2023, telling me the name was inspired by how she lived her daily life. It resonated even more for her in 2025 as she tried to maintain her authenticity while making content.
"With the age that we live in, with so much stuff online, and people doomscrolling and the hustle culture, it's super easy to get wrapped up in that," she said. "Sometimes, we forget that life is supposed to be fun."
As we talked about how whimsy can brighten the shadowed nooks and crannies of a mundane life, Draper suggested emulating things that brought me joy as a kid. O'Brien encouraged me to think about how I could approach my days more intentionally, especially when it came to the people around me.
O'Brien told me she once found a photo of herself at about 6 years old, blowing out candles on a cake with the letters "LT" on it. When she asked her mom about it, she was met with a burst of laughter. Her mom had told O'Brien's grandmother that she was on the cusp of losing her first baby tooth, so she came over with a homemade "loose tooth pound cake" in hand to celebrate her granddaughter's almost-milestone.
"It's so silly, but I also aspire to be that kind of person for the people in my life," O'Brien said as she recounted the story. "That's what whimsy is. I'm going to take time to do the extra thing because I know it will delight other people."
I want to be that kind of person too, I thought to myself.
Images flashed through my mind: the over-the-top birthday decorations my mom would put up in our house; the posters we would bring to the airport when we picked up family members who lived out of town for holidays; the themes my sister and I would select when we set the table to make weeknight dinners more fun. Bittersweet nostalgia settled in my chest as I thought about the magic my mom created for us, and the kind so many others create for their families.
My mom isn't here to sprinkle fairy dust over my life anymore, but that didn't mean it had to be gone completely. I was suddenly desperate to see if I could create that magic myself — and for the people I love.
Experimenting time
To start making life more whimsical, I first took a trip to my local gift store, where I carefully selected a white, spiral-bound journal covered in a bright-green pattern of baguettes, wine glasses, and veggies, the perfect vessel for documenting my whimsical game plan. I broke the plan down into two bulleted lists: one of daily activities and another of activities I could do once a week or once a month.
Now, if you're thinking at this point that lists aren't very whimsical, know these were written with fancy gel pens. Plus, one of my favorite activities as a kid was fine-tuning my handwriting in playful colors, so it was a win-win.
I filled up over a page with ideas for whimsifying my life, as well as some skills I'd like to learn and manifestations for the year ahead, in a rainbow pattern of ink.
Then, it was time to get to work.
I created mood-based playlists I could listen to around the house (an O'Brien suggestion I eagerly took). My favorite might be "Serious Girl Working Montage," full of songs that help me focus. It has a photo of Elle Woods and her iconic orange laptop as the cover.
I lit candles daily, read on my lunch break instead of playing on my phone, and swapped the toothpaste-stained sweatshirt and fraying tank top I usually wear to bed for a heart-patterned pajama set with ruffled hems a few nights a week. I also tried to reach for a coloring book or read an informative article when I got the itch to doomscroll.
Since 2020, I've mostly read on my Kindle, but hours spent exploring the library were a highlight of my childhood. I took a trip to my local branch in search of some whimsy and felt a sense of calm wash over me as I walked into the hushed, sunny space. I took my time perusing the shelves, flipping open covers, and running my fingers over spines before I picked a book to check out — one that ended up moving me more than anything else I had read in months.
Looking back, my favorite whimsical activities were those that connected me with others. I wrote handwritten notes to mail to loved ones on floral-patterned and striped cards I picked out just for them, grinning while I drew whales, dogs, and elephants for my young nieces and nephews.
When I invited a friend over for a movie night, I got ingredients for Shirley Temples and served them in the high-end glassware from my wedding registry rather than just offering her canned soda. I also made physical vision boards with another pal, and we spent the night in deep conversation as we cut images and words out of magazines, sealing our hopes for the future to canvas with Modge Podge and optimistic grins.
I tried to connect with strangers as well, making a point of taking my headphones out in stores so I could speak to people instead of just getting in and out. I spent a Friday morning working at a new coffee shop in my neighborhood that had big windows and faux flowers on each table. I made light conversation with the staff and people-watched between bites of a crumbling honey butter scone and sips of a steaming vanilla latte. I felt more rooted in my community than I had in a while.
And although I'm with my husband constantly, I went out of my way to add some whimsy to our moments together as part of the experiment. One evening, we laughed over drinks as we played Yahtzee! for an old-fashioned game night. Another day, we weaved between tourists around the Museum of Modern Art, holding hands as we studied paintings. I left him love notes around our apartment on dog-shaped sticky notes, a habit from early in our relationship I'd fallen out of as life got busy. It made my day when he told me he loved them.
The wonderful world of whimsy
Incorporating whimsy into my life has been the breath of fresh air I didn't know I needed.
It didn't change everything; I still ache for my mom, and have bouts of despair when I read scary headlines. Still, prioritizing simple joys has offered a liferaft when the currents threatened to pull me under.
More importantly, I started thinking about myself less.
When I checked out a book at the library, my brief interaction with my librarian and seeing other patrons absorbed in reading were the best parts of the experience.
As I wrote letters to loved ones, some of the weight on my shoulders lifted. After three hours of vision-boarding and focusing on my friend's hopes for the year, I realized I hadn't looked at my phone once. Bringing a smile to my husband's face with a note or a cup of coffee in bed warmed my heart.
Sitting at a café with a perfectly toasted sandwich in front of me and my mom's favorite song playing through the speakers, I realized O'Brien was right — sometimes, you just need little moments of delight.
