Confession time: I missed last week’s edition.

In my defence, it was Teddy’s fourth birthday (how is he FOUR?!), followed by a long weekend with my family visiting from Melbourne - the kind of special, chaotic few days that were definitely worth being fully present for.

The combination of both events got me thinking.

Apparently four is around the age we start forming lasting memories - no pressure, right?! - and after my first Phase Two Conversation with my sister, where we talked about how intentional she is about staying close to people, I found myself thinking more about traditions.

Because there’s something I’m increasingly convinced of: nothing happens by accident anymore.

Not friendships. Not family closeness. Not community. In Phase Two, the best things in life need infrastructure.

Why traditions matter so much in Phase Two

In your twenties, life gives you relationship infrastructure for free - the systems, rhythms and repeated moments that hold friendships together. School does. Uni does. Work often does. Repeated contact. Shared rituals. Seeing people without needing a calendar invite.

Then adulthood arrives, and “we should catch up soon” becomes a six-week scheduling negotiation. And when I dug into the research, traditions turned out to matter far more than I actually realised in bringing it all back.

First: they reduce friction. Anthropologist Robin Dunbar (of Dunbar’s number fame) found that regular rituals (weekly walks, annual trips, monthly dinners) maintain closeness by removing the need to constantly organise connection. Less logistics. More just showing up.

Second: they create belonging. Psychologist Barbara Fiese has spent decades studying family rituals and found they’re strongly linked to resilience, emotional wellbeing and stronger relationships. Traditions stop being “something we do” and become “what our family does” - or “what our friendship group does.”

Third: they give us something to look forward to. Positive psychology research shows anticipation meaningfully boosts happiness - often more than the event itself. Which feels especially important in Phase Two, when life can quickly become overrun with logistics and life admin (if you let it).

I’ve started thinking about traditions in two buckets. Micro traditions - weekly or monthly. The Friday family pizza & movie night. The monthly pub session with friends. And then, macro traditions - the bigger annual anchors. Long weekends with interstate guests. The family holiday. Christmas rituals.

Both hold equal importance.

If non-negotiables help us stay connected to ourselves in a busy period, traditions might be how we stay connected to everyone else.

The one tradition I’m making official this year? Girls’ Dinners.

During my maternity leave with Louis, it started almost by accident - I began having girlfriends over for dinner, something to look forward to amid the newborn haze.

Hosting at home felt the easiest - baby upstairs, friends downstairs - and it quickly became one of the biggest unexpected joys of that season.

Those who know me well know I’ve always loved a food and table experience built around a theme or a moment of occasion. Building one in a house full of three boys makes it even more momentous - a full creative outlet and celebration of feminine energy (goodbye Hot Wheels, hello hot wax candles!)

And because hosting can get expensive - especially when you have a taste for the nicer end of napery! - I’ve been thinking about how to make it sustainable.

So, I’m making it official.

In July, I’m hosting the first Phase Two Supper Club* (*temporary name) - a themed girls’ dinner at my house, private chef, everyone paying per head. A deliberate, recurring tradition. Something to look forward to.

I’ll document the whole thing here - planning, tablescapes and all - in the hopes it provides a little inspiration for your own.

Until next week,
Annabelle xx

Phase Two Conversations is a recurring series where I sit down with thoughtful, ambitious women navigating their own version of this chapter - to steal ideas, find solidarity, and figure out how to do this with a little more grace. For the very first conversation, I couldn't think of a better guest than my sister, Penelope Reidy - Chief Customer Officer at Decjuba, mum to my gorgeous niece Margot, and someone who navigates modern adulthood with more intention and organisation than almost anyone I know. She was also, strategically, unable to say no.

Questions and answers below - full unedited audio above.

You’ve recently turned 40. What does Phase Two actually look like for you right now?

Turning 40, two incomes, two mortgages, an eight-year-old. I feel like I’m out of the trenches with parenthood, but I’m starting to anticipate the challenge of a teenager - and the private school fees about to hit us. I’m really determined to maintain my relationship with my husband. I want to keep liking him. I want to keep having fun.

I’m ambitious, but also genuinely overwhelmed by the pressure of work and career progression - because I’m not done yet. And I’ve recently, finally, established a consistent fitness regime. But I still struggle to love my body, and I don’t think that’s something I’ll ever fully crack.

You mentioned feeling like you should have it more figured out by now. Was that a surprise?

I think we all feel that way. We all expected some magic adult unlock at a certain age. What surprises me most is that I still feel like I’m 27. Every day I have to remind myself how fortunate I am - but you can have it all and still feel like you’re not enjoying it as much as you should. You have to work really hard to be present, to feel grateful, to find joy rather than just plodding from one thing to the next.

And honestly, the financial pressures of the economy we now live in mean it doesn’t always feel like you’re as successful as you need to be - which is wild, when you look at it from the outside.

You’re one of the most organised people I know - and you’ve always been intentional about creating joy. How do you actually do that in the middle of everything?

Traditions. My husband and I are very big on them. Certain things happen every year, which means you always have something to look forward to and you’re guaranteed to fit in the things you love.

We always go to Yamba over the Australia Day weekend before school goes back - a nice way to reconnect as a family before we lose our daughter to the classroom again. We do Brisbane every Easter for the extended family egg hunt. We’re currently in our fourth year of going to Europe with our best friends who live in San Francisco - an expensive tradition, but an incredible way to maintain an international friendship while seeing the world. And then there are the annual events we build around: a races car park every year, Halloween - which we go completely all-in on, costume preparation starts a year out and it’s become one of the best nights of our year.

On a smaller scale, we started something with our closest friends still in Melbourne - a group called The Top 10. Every two months, one of the couples hosts a child-free dinner party. No pressure: you can cook, get takeaway, get it catered. Sometimes there’s a theme. We’ve paused it when life has been too hectic - during the season everyone was turning 40 we hit pause - but we always start scheduling again as soon as we come out of it. It means there’s always something in the diary and you’re always anchored back to that core group.

The traditions framing is something I’d never heard you put a label on before - where do you think it came from?

Probably childhood, in some ways. We had yearly family holidays - years in Coolum, years in Broadbeach, always Queensland for the September school holidays. There was always something to anticipate. And for me, planning a good time is almost as fun as having the good time. The anticipation is part of the joy.

Your Notes app is legendary. Talk us through it.

My Notes app is my entire brain. It’s my only admin hack, but it’s a true efficiency saver. I keep all my lists there - shopping, recipes, restaurants I want to try, books to read, TV shows to watch. But the real game-changer is that I’ve standardised lists for any repeatable task. Those annual events I mentioned - I have a master list for each one that I just roll out each year. Travel recommendations saved by location, so when someone asks I can copy and paste. A dual adapter on every international packing list, because you never remember that kind of thing without a system.

The least complicated version of any process is always the one that works. Standardise anything repeatable. It saves years.

How would you describe adulthood in three words?

Relentless. Financially pressured. Fast. The days are long but the years are short - I used to hear that about having little kids, but it doesn’t stop. The grind feels never-ending, and then the weekend’s gone before you know it.

A boundary you’re currently swearing by?

Controversial, but I don’t go to my child’s sport. Occasionally I do - if it’s convenient and it’s not raining. But mostly I don’t. It allows a lot of time back.

Something you’re saying no to more often?

Going out on school nights. Although I went to dinner with two of my best girlfriends last night and it was the best - so maybe that’s wrong. Go say yes to the school night dinner. It’s worth it.

A tiny luxury you’ll never give up?

Buying books on my Kindle. I spend probably $100 a month. I read in the middle of the night when I can’t sleep, so it’s incredibly convenient to just buy the next one without getting out of bed.

A recent obsession?

Off Campus - a vintage love story. It will give you life, with a side of hockey players.

A life hack beyond the Notes app?

Prepping all school lunches on a Sunday. I have a drawer in the fridge, individual snap lock bags, everything ready to go. It’s the only way I stay on top of it.

Three book recommendations?

Yesteryear by Claire Burke — about an influencer thrown back into the past, with a brilliant twist you won’t see coming. This Story Will Save Your Life by Tiffany Crumb - a podcaster who goes missing. And Into the Blue by Emma Brody - a beautiful across-the-years story with a subtle sci-fi backdrop. All excellent summer reads.

Any advice for others navigating Phase Two?

A process will save your life. There is always a better way to do things. If you can figure out which way works for you - and standardise any repeatable task to make it easy and efficient - it will save you years.

Thanks to Penelope for being the best possible first guest - and for agreeing to do this despite being my sister and therefore technically having no choice. You can follow her at @penelopereidy on Instagram.

If you have a Phase Two woman in your life who I should be talking to - drop her name in the comments.

When I had my first son Teddy, I was convinced I knew exactly how to dress him.

I pre-purchased an array of tonal neutral outfits - varying combinations of cream, beige, brown and grey, essentially an extension of my house and my own monochromatic wardrobe. It lent itself beautifully to aesthetic snapshots against our interiors and was very good in theory.

Unfortunately, unlike me, Teddy cannot reach for a tinted moisturiser or a layer of St. Tropez bronzing mousse. He inherited my beautifully pale complexion and - without those interventions - quickly looked vaguely Victorian and unwell in “oatmeal”.

So I pivoted. Hard. Away from the neutrals and toward something brighter, bolder and far more joyful - primary colours, playful prints, clothes that actually look like a child is wearing them. And somewhere in that pivot, I discovered that dressing boys is an absolute delight - arguably far easier than dressing myself, which as any woman who has stood in front of a full wardrobe declaring “I have nothing to wear” will understand, is not a low bar.

What I hadn’t anticipated was how relentlessly repetitive boys’ mainstream fashion could feel. Endless navy, olive green and pale blue - adorned with trucks, diggers, dinosaurs, or slogans that feel oddly committed to reinforcing gender stereotypes before kindergarten.

(No shade if this is your thing. It is simply not mine!)

I now find myself drawn to male fashion inspiration from almost anywhere. Take FX’s biographical series Love Story - Carolyn Bessette may be the intended style icon, but it was JFK Jr. and his array of effortlessly cool backward caps who quietly stole my attention. And to be honest - from another recent anthropological series, the Menendez brothers - whose preppy cable knits sparked their own TikTok moment and had me quietly taking notes for later. (About their style, I should clarify. Just their style.)

For now, I get to be the weekend creative director for my boys - and I’m very much enjoying discovering the brands that fulfil the brief. Daycare? Literally anything goes, those clothes are entering battle and I’ve made peace with it. But outside of daycare, much like my love of a beautifully set table, it’s become a genuine creative outlet and one of the small unexpected pleasures of this phase of life. God help me when they develop opinions of their own.

I mentioned Sandcastle Rascals in my first monthly edit - so while the creative directorship lasts, here’s the full list of brands I currently reach for…

The Brands

Goldie + Ace: Melbourne-born and deeply nostalgic - think gumtrees, galahs and 80s and 90s Australia. Founded by Alana Tiller and Chris Kontos, the brand has collaborated with Sesame Street, Barbie, Bananas in Pyjamas and Hot Wheels, tapping the millennial parent with a very knowing wink. They also offer a free mending service and a secondhand marketplace - the latter of which I will very much be needing, given how much I've spent here!

Mini Rodini: Founded in Stockholm by illustrator Cassandra Rhodin - whose great-grandfather was a circus king - and quickly became a favourite of Rihanna, Beyoncé and the Jolie-Pitt family. Rhodin draws all the prints herself, many by hand. If I had the budget to dress my children exclusively in this, I likely would.

Bobo Choses: Born in 2008 inside an old toy factory two blocks from the Mediterranean, by a graphic designer who couldn't find children's clothes that suited her taste. Each collection tells a story, often accompanied by an illustrated book. Bobo is French slang for "bourgeois bohème" - which tells you everything you need to know about the parent it's designed for. For us, it's another special occasion brand - saved for the most memorable holidays and big days out.

Ziggy Zaza: An Australian brand doing the quiet work of elevated everyday dressing - playful-but-not-too-loud design, and quality that genuinely holds up to small boys. Their “artist” tee/sweater collection is suitably adorable right now.

Halcyon Nights: Designed in Melbourne and made for dreamers - celebrating art, childhood and all things Australian. Bright and practical, with prints that work in real toddler life without looking like a craft project. Their towelling sets and togs are a particular favourite in our house.

Huxbaby: Founded in Melbourne in 2014 by Jennifer and Elad, who wanted to create minimalist childrenswear with what they describe as "an adult level of style." Pared-back graphics, a considered palette, and their signature little bear (which, for a child named Ted, felt less like a brand choice and more like fate).

The Animals Observatory: Founded by Laia Aguilar, who spent eight years as creative director at Bobo Choses before striking out on her own. Built on a motto she repeats to her children: "Be a good animal, true to your instincts." Bold, eccentric, and entirely fashion-forward.

Bebe Blanca: The children’s line of cult Sydney label Blanca, founded by Ana Piteira - who also created Reliquia Jewellery. Oversized shirts, relaxed silhouettes, elasticated pants with pockets for "little treasures and items of wonder." The brand for parents who want their children to dress like a smaller version of their own wardrobe - which, let’s honest, is an entirely relatable desire.

Tiny Trove: Designed in Western Australia by two mums who couldn't find the everyday wardrobe they wanted for their own children. Each piece is designed to be well-worn and well-loved rather than outgrown and discarded - made using quality natural materials with a strong emphasis on ethical trade. We can vouch for this personally: so many of our Tiny Trove pieces have survived Teddy and made it to Louis in remarkable shape. The kind of brand you feel quietly good about buying from, in every sense.

Sonny Label: Started by a mum named Sunny who, during maternity leave, also couldn't find boys' clothes that weren't dinosaurs, sharks or trucks. So she built her own brand instead. What began as outfits for her son Banks has grown into a full family business - thoughtfully designed, ethically produced, and packed from their small HQ, often with a few extra chubby hands helping. I’d like their animal print pants in my own size, please and thank you!

Honourable mention: Zara Kids Not every day calls for a boutique haul - and Zara Kids consistently punches above its weight on trend, quality and price. A reliable source of the basics and the occasional statement piece that doesn't require an international shipping wait.

If you’ve cracked the code on toddler boy dressing - or have a brand I’ve missed - please put it in the comments. Bonus points if it ships to Australia and comes in something other than navy! 🚜

Until next week,

Annabelle xx

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One and a half years ago, a somewhat dodgy kiosk at the end of our street (think every brand of international energy drink, plus cardboard-hard croissants) transformed into an Instagram-worthy, Sonoma-serving, Banana-Matcha-making family-run café.

And I’m not exaggerating in the slightest when I say it genuinely changed our lives during a particularly full season.

There’s a concept in sociology called a “third place”, developed by urban sociologist Ray Oldenburg, which describes the spaces beyond your first place (home) and second place (work) where community happens naturally.

Think cafés, parks, libraries, pubs - the Cheers bar, if you will!

Places that ask nothing of you except that you show up, offering spontaneous interaction, familiar faces, and the quiet reassurance that you are known somewhere.

For our family, that place is Piper & Thrupps.

So, on a sentimental Sunday - here are three ways it made our life infinitely better.

1. Familiarity beyond family

With both my husband and my families dispersed, there are seasons where we deeply miss the ease of built-in connection. Not dramatic support or grand gestures - just the comfort of familiar faces and regular interaction. People who know your order. Who notice when your children have grown. Who ask how you’re doing and genuinely wait for the answer.

The staff at Piper & Thrupps have quietly become that for us. But beyond the staff - I’m almost certain we wouldn’t know half our neighbours without it. The couple with the baby up the road. The parents juggling the exact same daycare illnesses and early wake-ups. The familiar nod of solidarity from someone ordering their second coffee before 8am.

It sounds like such a small thing written down. But I increasingly don’t think it is.

When you’re raising children away from extended family, those tiny repeated interactions begin to form something that feels remarkably close to a village.

2. An early morning refuge

There are mornings in our house where everyone simply needs to leave. No amount of toys or Toniebox can recover the mood, and a change of scenery becomes less of a leisure activity and more of a psychological intervention!

On those mornings, our café functions as a pressure valve: a short walk, a familiar environment, a genuinely good coffee, and a space where the boys can confidently practise existing in the world beyond our front door. There’s something deeply regulating about somewhere that stays consistent even when your own day feels chaotic. Some mornings, that small ritual has changed the trajectory of the entire day before 8am.

3. The menu (an entirely necessary plug)

We’re also particularly lucky because the offering at Piper & Thrupps is genuinely exceptional - which certainly helps matters! Coffee by Little Italy Coffee Roasters. Banana bread by Sonoma. ButterBoy cookies. Gourmet toasties, including the now-famous “Ham Jam”. Cinnamon scrolls I cannot and will not resist. Speciality drinks like their Café Freddo and Banana Matcha, both of which have developed their own cult following. (If you’re north of the bridge, you simply must venture here).

But beyond the menu, what makes the place truly special is the family behind it - Jake, Penny and Frank - who have created the kind of atmosphere that feels increasingly rare. Warm without being performative. Thoughtful without trying too hard. The sort of place that becomes woven into the rhythm of your ordinary days before you even realise how much you rely on it.

And I think that’s the real magic of a third place.

It’s never just about the coffee.

It’s about having somewhere outside your home that quietly holds you during a particular season of life. Somewhere that reminds you you’re part of a neighbourhood, a rhythm, a wider community of people living alongside you.

In a stage of life where so much connection has to be scheduled, coordinated and consciously maintained, there’s something incredibly grounding about belonging somewhere by accident.

So to the café that has become the next best thing to a village for our family: genuinely, and repeatedly, thank you.

Now I’d love to hear from you - because I suspect every person reading this has a version of their own. The café, the park, the deli counter, the gym, the Saturday market. The place that quietly became part of your life before you even realised how much it mattered.

Tell me yours in the comments: what it is, where it is, and what it gives you that you didn’t realise you were missing. I want to try yours too!

Until next week,

Annabelle xx

A quick note before we begin: today is Mother’s Day in Australia, which feels like a fitting day to launch a monthly edit built around joy. I’m writing this from bed with a coffee in hand - amid a dreamy two-hour lie-in before normalcy resumes with 9.30am swimming lessons - having just jumped off the phone with my own mum in Melbourne, who I very much wish I was seeing today.

Mother’s Day has a way of bringing on the feelings, in the best and hardest ways. Whether you’re celebrating someone, missing someone, hoping to become one, or simply navigating your own version of this chapter - I hope you find a small pocket of time for yourself today. You deserve to take it.

Welcome to Edition #1 of The Phase Two Edit - a monthly round-up of the things that have genuinely brought me joy, saved me time, or made life feel a little bit richer. Some months will have a theme. Others, like this one, will be a glorious miscellany. Either way: no filler or obligation. Just the things I’d actually tell you about over dinner if we had longer.

And because the best recommendations are always shared - I want yours too please! Drop what brought you joy this past month in the comments. I have a feeling this community will have the best ones.

🏠 At Home

The Ninja SLUSHi - There were three things I wanted as a teenager that tell you everything you need to know about me at my core: 1) key card entry to my bedroom (so I could pretend it was a hotel), 2) a wall of Pick & Mix lollies, and 3) a frozen slurpee machine. It was the Saturday shifts at Baker’s Delight - rewarded, always, with a 7-Eleven run - that started the addiction. The frozen margaritas of my twenties that cemented it. So it felt like a full-circle moment when, for my birthday this year, I received the Ninja SLUSHi Professional Frozen Drink Maker - which makes frozen cocktails at home with no blending and, crucially, no ice required.

We are currently deep in recipe testing: frozen Piña Coladas, Margaritas, Frosé, and next on the agenda - Midori Sours and frozen cherry Negronis. Friday happy hours are officially frozen for the foreseeable future, everything is getting a paper umbrella, and I am, for all intents and purposes, Tom Cruise in Cocktail. Recipe tips go directly in the comments please!

Sadele Flowers - I love flowers in the home. I especially love curating real blooms for dinner events. What I do not love is the budget and time required to maintain them at any kind of consistent pace. Enter Sadele - an evergreen floral studio making the most lifelike, ultra-premium artificial flowers I’ve ever come across, founded by Sarah Myer off the back of a very real and very relatable problem. I started my Sadele journey with the Bells of Ireland for our dining table, and I am completely obsessed. Statement, enduring, and so far - fooling every guest who walks past them. No doubt more to follow.

The Desky Monitor Arm - Bear with me, because this is the most practical item on the list and also one of the most impactful. Now that I’m working from home more regularly, I’ve finally set up my home office with actual intention. On the advice of a former colleague, I invested in a Desky Monitor Arm - which mounts your screen directly to the back of the desk, eliminating the stand entirely and reclaiming a genuinely surprising amount of desk space. I’m embarrassed it took me this long. If you work from home and feel perpetually space-poor, this is your sign.

✈️ Travel

Hyde Melbourne Place - My work takes me to Melbourne semi-regularly, and when I'm not staying with family, Hyde Melbourne Place on Russell Street has become my hotel of choice. Conceived by award-winning architect Kennedy Nolan, it has the kind of eclectic, earth-toned design that captures the spirit of Melbourne without trying too hard. The rooms come in deep green, velvet blue or sunset gold - moody, bold, and possibly divisive, but exactly the kind of atmosphere I love committing to in a hotel and would never quite dare at home. Dinner and drinks on the rooftop at Cleo are a must; the fixed price lunch at Marmelo (Spanish-Portuguese, excellent value) is quietly one of the better meals I've had recently. Add the fact that Gimlet, Maison Batard and Supernormal are all within easy reach, and it's difficult to fault.

Raes on Wategos, Byron Bay - This one had been on the wish-list for a long time. We originally booked as an adults-only trip for my husband Rowan’s 40th, but Tropical Cyclone Alfred had other plans - which, in the end, turned out to be a gift, because we rescheduled around my sister’s 40th just before Easter and the whole thing became infinitely more special.

What I didn’t expect was how brilliantly it worked with kids. The beach is directly in front of the hotel - no roads to cross, no logistics to navigate. Breakfast is included in your stay and it is, frankly, the kind of gourmet spread that ruins you for ordinary mornings: fresh daily juices, granola, eggs every which way, avocado toast, the lot. My boys became so accustomed to this daily routine that I’m still answering for it at home. But with 6am wake-ups, it is genuinely the best possible way to start a day.

The transfers were another revelation. Raes will collect you from the airport and take you anywhere you want to go in Byron - car seats included, fitted and removed by their young staff with an ease that made me want to applaud every single time. No hire car required. No wrestling with unfamiliar car seat buckles in a carpark. Just seamless, thoughtful service that quietly removes every friction point of travelling with small children.

The interiors - designed by Tamsin Johnson - were every bit as good as I'd hoped, and I'd been hoping for a while. Warm, layered and considered in a way that feels genuinely residential rather than hotel-performative. A perfect blend of Mediterranean influence and cool coastal Byron chic. Add on-site babysitting, staff who were among the most accommodating I've encountered anywhere, and the whole place has a quiet magic that's hard to articulate but very easy to feel, and hopefully one day soon - return back to.

(Full Byron Bay guide coming if you want it - let me know in the comments.)

🍝 Out & About in Sydney

The Pasta Shop, Potts Point - I celebrated my birthday this year with a Wiggles concert followed by a pasta lunch, which is exactly the kind of sentence I now get to write. The Pasta Shop is the new venture from Paola Toppi - daughter of Giovanna Toppi, founder of the much-loved and now-closed Sydney institution Machiavelli. The format is simple: eleven pasta dishes, all under $30 (a genuine feat in this city!), plus house-made polpette swimming in a deep red sauce, slabs of focaccia, and proper tiramisu and cannoli for dessert. It’s designed to feel casual and approachable, and it absolutely does - while still managing to feel cool and considered. A great place to take kids for lunch while reminding yourself you’ve still got it.

Calmsley Hill City Farm - Possibly obvious to anyone who grew up in Sydney, but as a Melbourne girl, discovering Calmsley Hill was a revelation. Located just off the M7 at Elizabeth Drive in Abbotsbury, it’s an interactive city farm with a genuinely impressive animal roster: cows, sheep, rabbits, horses, kangaroos, koalas, goats, camels - and a tractor ride that was, without exaggeration, some of the best fun I’ve had this year. But the real highlights? Watching the farm staff crack a whip and milk a cow - both of which they made look entirely effortless. Highly recommend for small children, visiting family, or anyone who needs a reminder of exactly where their 2 litre A2 milk comes from.

👗 What to Wear

COS Basics - I know I’m very late to this. But I’ve finally tried the COS organic cotton tees and long-sleeve tops, and I will now be buying them in every colour. They don’t require ironing, they have the perfect neckline for layering under a winter knit, and the fit is neat without being fitted. It’s the kind of foundational piece you don’t fully appreciate until you’re reaching for it four times a week. Consider this my formal conversion notice, and daily WFH uniform.

Sandcastle Rascals - I discovered this kids brand at a boutique in Byron Bay, and I loved it so much I bought t-shirts in a size that don’t fit my boys yet, but which they are wearing anyway (oversized is a vibe, right?), which tells you everything. I am perpetually on a mission to find boys’ clothing that isn’t the standard palette of navy, olive and muted blue - adorned in trucks, dinosaurs or both. Sandcastle Rascals is the answer: primary colours, joyful prints, and a genuine philosophy around celebrating the inner child. The price point reflects the quality, and the durability of the fabric is the kind that actually holds up to small boys. Obsessed. (Deep dive on boys’ clothing discoveries also available on request. It’s my Roman Empire.)

🎧 Watch, Read & Listen

The Style-ish Podcast, "Finally! People are saying what they actually think!" - I've been a longtime fan of the Shameless Media universe, and hosts Rhiannon Joyce and Priya McPherson are exactly the kind of smart, warm, no-nonsense voices I want in my ears on a morning walk. Their April 23rd episode dives into a subject close to my heart - the rise of Substack - and what it means for media, for creators, and for the way we consume content. As someone deeply passionate about people understanding the value and opportunity of this platform, it's wonderful to hear it articulated and championed so well. Essential listening for anyone curious about where media is heading and why.

Apex on Netflix - I ADORE Charlize Theron (how could you not?!), and apparently my taste in her filmography runs firmly toward the more “accessible” end. First there was Long Shot with Seth Rogen - in my opinion an underrated comedy masterpiece that I will recommend until my dying day - and now this: a Netflix survival thriller in which she plays a rock climber hunted by a serial killer in the Australian wilderness. Is it high art? Absolutely not. Is it a fantastic Friday night watch? Unequivocally yes. The Chemical Brothers' Go has been on high rotation in my house ever since - and for those who have seen it - you have until the end of the song to finish this newsletter… GO!

That’s the May Edit. If something here resonates - or if you have a recommendation of your own - I’d love to hear it in the comments. The best thing about building this community is that the tips flow both ways.

Until next week,

Annabelle xx

When life gets full - bigger responsibilities, less time - I’ve found it’s surprisingly easy to quietly stop showing up for yourself. Not dramatically. Just a slow, barely-noticeable drift away from the small things that keep you functioning at your best.

The antidote? Non-negotiables. A short, personal list of the behaviours that, when they’re in place, make everything else work better.

Here’s the audit I use to identify mine - and come back to them when life (regularly) has other plans…

Subscribe now

Part One: What are non-negotiables?

I’m 99% sure I first encountered the idea of “non-negotiables” from the inimitable Patti Stanger on Bravo’s The Millionaire Matchmaker.

(As a former reality TV development producer, I consumed an unreasonable amount of reality TV growing up - and I’m not embarrassed to admit, a surprising amount of it has proven useful.)

If you haven’t watched the show (firstly, WHAT were you doing with your life?), the premise was simple: Patti would take her wildly rich, wildly particular clients and force them to cut their long, unrealistic romantic wish lists down to five non-negotiables.

Not superficial preferences.
Not nice-to-haves.
What do they actually need?

(Spoiler: it wasn’t “dark features” or “over 6 foot.” It was values. Life decisions. The things that actually determine whether a partnership works long term.)

That idea extends well beyond dating - and honestly, it’s got nothing to do with grand gestures or big life decisions.

In the context of everyday life, non-negotiables are the small, unglamorous habits and routines that quietly keep everything else working. Not your ambitions or your goals - more like the baseline behaviours that, when they’re in place, mean you navigate the busy, autopilot phases of life feeling like yourself.

Pulitzer Prize-winning author Charles Duhigg calls them keystone habits: the few foundational behaviours that create a ripple effect across everything else.

When they’re in place, things tend to quietly go right.
When they’re not, things tend to quietly go wrong.

Not instantly. Not dramatically. Just… over time.

The catch? No one can hand you your list.

In my humble opinion, non-negotiables are deeply personal and contextual. What one person needs to feel like their best self will be completely different to another.

Which means the real work - and the real opportunity - is figuring out what yours are.

Part Two: How do you determine your non-negotiables?

When I’m trying to identify my own, the most useful question isn’t what I should be doing every day.

(It’s a tempting question. It’s also usually the wrong one.)

It’s this:

What are the things that, when I skip them for a few days, everything starts to feel slightly… off?

They’re often easier to spot in hindsight.
And working from absence rather than aspiration tends to be far more honest.

To make this practical, I like to sense-check across five core areas of life:

• Physical: how I feel in my body: energy, sleep, movement

• Mental: what I’m consuming and thinking about: clarity, headspace

• Relational: who I’m connected to: the people who make me feel like yourself

• Functional: what’s quietly piling up (deeply unglamorous, but wildly important)

• Directional: what’s moving me forward (even in small, imperfect ways)

You don’t need one in every category.
You might have a cluster - and that’s the point.

The goal isn’t to build a perfect routine.

It’s to identify a small number of things that disproportionately affect how you feel, function, and show up.

Mine are embarrassingly simple:

• Movement + eating relatively well

• Consuming something that expands my brain (news, podcasts, reading)

• Being proactive with friends, families, & hobbies

• Doing one piece of life admin + resetting the house

Miss those for a few days, and I feel it almost immediately.

Not dramatically. Just… slightly off.

And then - this is the crucial bit -

you need to define the minimum viable version of each.

Think of it like a minimum viable product: the simplest version that still works.

For me:

• Not 10,000 steps → 10 minutes of focused movement (yes, sometimes squats in the bathroom)

• Not a full “reset” → one admin task

• Not an hour of reading → one article

The smallest version you can return to on your busiest, messiest days.

Because once you know that, you don’t need motivation. You just need a way back.

Part Three: How do you actually make them happen (and what happens when you don’t)?

Firstly, a reality check. Habits take longer to stick than we think.

Research from Phillippa Lally at University College London found it takes, on average, around 66 days for a behaviour to become automatic.

Personally, that’s longer than I’d like to admit. But it explains a lot.

Which means in the early days, you can’t rely on autopilot. You need support.

Two simple tools that actually help: stacking and tracking.

• Stacking: attach your habit to something that already exists
  (coffee → no phone, daycare drop-off → short walk)

• Tracking: nothing fancy - just a visible tick on a page
  (this is less about perfection & more about awareness)

Because until something becomes automatic, it needs to feel seen.

And then - the rule that matters most.

Atomic Habits author James Clear calls it: never miss twice. (Simple. Slightly annoying. Very effective.)

One missed day doesn’t matter. Two is where the slide begins.

So when life inevitably gets in the way (and it will), don’t spiral.
Just return - using your minimum viable version.

Not the full workout - the walk.
Not the perfect routine - one small action.

BJ Fogg’s research backs this: the habits that stick aren’t the ambitious ones.
They’re the small ones, done consistently.

If you fall off completely? Come back to your list.

Not a new one. Not a better one. This one.

And finally - don’t do this in isolation.

If you’re in the trenches, it helps to have someone who understands the reality of your days. An accountability partner. A friend. Your partner.

Make it known that these actions matter to you - that they’re not “nice-to-haves,” they’re the things that keep you functioning at your best.

(And if you don’t have someone to tell - I’m happy to be yours! DM me anytime.)

Because the truth is, non-negotiables aren’t just personal.

They shape how you show up for everything - and everyone - else.

Until next week,
Annabelle xx

In very exciting news, it’s my birthday next week. May the 4th. Otherwise affectionately known as Star Wars Day.

I’m not sharing this to guarantee an influx of birthday wishes at 9am next Monday morning. (Or am I…?)

I’m sharing it because it tells you something very important about me: I’m a Taurean. The sturdy, ever-reliable bull of the zodiac. We make loyal friends, devoted partners, and dedicated employees - and we absolutely thrive on comfort, consistency, and stability. Good food, gorgeous hotels, a beautifully set table - I literally can’t help it!

But my love of consistency is more than a personality trait.

It’s also my operating system.

I don’t need a minute-by-minute schedule (please, I’m not a Virgo!) But I do love the quiet comfort of knowing what my day looks like. Of knowing that if I show up, do the things I said I’d do, in roughly the way I planned to do them - the outcomes will follow. Time and effort in. Results out.

Admittedly, it sounds a bit Patrick Bateman reading it back. But it worked for me.

Or at least, it did…

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Cue the motherhood shift no-one adequately warned me about.

We talk a lot about time after having children. You have less of it. More guilt about it. The mental load of figuring out how to use it. And yes - all of that is real, and I’ll come back to it in a future Phase Two edition.

But for me, the hardest transition of early motherhood wasn’t the lack of time.

It was the unpredictability.

It was waking up with a clear, almost satisfying mental plan for the day - the meeting I’d prep for, the walk I’d squeeze in, the kind of calm evening I’d enjoy with my children - and then watching it completely unravel. By 7:32am.

A sick child. A cancelled daycare day. A night of broken sleep or passed down head cold that makes even the simplest decision feel harder. Two very tired small people who somehow turn a normal bedtime routine into a full emotional production. A domino effect of small disruptions that tips you past behind schedule and into something that feels closer to: out of control.

And here’s the thing. My ambition didn’t go anywhere. If anything, it sharpened. I knew more clearly than ever what I wanted to achieve - and I’m proud to say I’ve continued to make it happen. The results are still coming.

But the feeling of it? The quiet confidence of moving through a well-structured day, ticking things off, feeling in command? The conditions I’d always relied on to pursue that ambition? Those took a hit. And it was more disorienting than I expected.

In place of those conditions: a quiet, persistent tension:

- I feel more driven than ever.

- I have less control than ever.

Learning to thrive within that tension, I think, is the real work of Phase Two.

Why losing control felt so strangely personal

There’s an actual reason this doesn’t just feel inconvenient - it feels destabilising.

Psychologists have spent decades studying what they call "perceived control" - our belief that we can influence outcomes in our own lives. Harvard psychologist Ellen Langer was among the first to show how profoundly this shapes our motivation, performance, and wellbeing. When that sense erodes - even temporarily - it can lead to depression, anxiety, and even physical health problems.

Perceived control is associated with emotional wellbeing, reduced physiological impact of stressors, and enhanced ability to cope with stress. In other words: it’s not a nice-to-have. It’s foundational to how we function.

So when you’re someone who has always tied ambition to execution - to doing what you said you’d do, when you said you’d do it - that loss of control doesn’t just disrupt your calendar. It starts to feel personal. Like you’ve lost your edge. Or worse: like you’ve lost a part of your identity.

There’s also something about it being your family specifically that makes it land differently. I’ve successfully adapted in work contexts my whole career - pivoted strategies, navigated crises, reworked plans, changed jobs & industries. But somehow I’d quietly assumed I could manage family unpredictability in the same way. That if I was organised enough, present enough, prepared enough - I could control it.

The reality? I could not. And once I stopped expecting to, everything shifted. The work wasn't to control the unpredictability - it was to adjust my expectations within it.

Four research-backed shifts I’m practising, daily.

It took me longer than I’d like to admit to land on what I actually needed to develop more of: personal adaptability.

Not as a buzzword. Not as a corporate value. But as a genuine, learned skill - one that, it turns out, the professional world never quite pushed me to build in the way that motherhood did.

(My husband, for the record, has always been significantly better at this than me. I’m a willing student.)

I won't claim to have mastered these -my children are still little, so the chaos is ongoing! - but they're the four things I try to come back to, every time a Tuesday tries to take me down.

1. Trade rigid plans for anchored priorities.

Instead of over-scheduling, or compiling an overflowing to-do list, I try to identify 1–3 things that genuinely matter each day. Everything else becomes flexible by design... when the day derails (and it will), a clear anchor means I can reorient rather than spiral. The question I ask myself each morning: if everything goes sideways, what's the one thing I'd still want to have done?

2. Stop catastrophising the derailment.

When a sick child or cancelled plan sends things off course, my instinct is to fast-forward to worst-case outcomes - the pressured deadline, the lost momentum towards the invisible standard I’ve set myself. The question I’m learning to ask instead: is this a crisis? Or is this just a Tuesday? Mostly, it’s just a Tuesday.

3. Decouple success from sheer output.

A good day used to mean: I did the things. Now I’m trying to expand that to include: I stayed present. I responded well under pressure. I was kind to myself and my children when it mattered. I pivoted without guilt. That’s not lowering the bar. It’s raising it in a different direction.

4. Recognise that mood is infrastructure.

I’ve started thinking about my emotional state the way I once thought about my schedule: as something worth protecting, because everything else runs on it. The frantic scroll, the skipped lunch, the back-to-back calls with no break - these aren’t just inefficient. They make me actively less equipped to handle the curveballs. My mood is not a by-product of the day. It’s an input.

Here’s another thing I keep coming back to. My children are sometimes the cute chaos. But they’re also the cure.

There’s something about the way a three-year-old greets a puddle after a rain storm - with pure, unironic delight - that is genuinely instructive. They’re not behind. They’re just in it. And I think there’s something worth recovering in that. The capacity to find the thing in front of us genuinely interesting and amazing, even when it wasn’t what we’d originally planned.

I wouldn’t change my current circumstances for the world. Even the 9:17am unravellings.

The exact conditions I once relied upon are gone. But I’m building something better in their place - a messier, more flexible, more human operating system. And that feels worth raising a glass to.

(Birthday wishes welcome. I’ve clearly earned them!)

Until next week,
Annabelle xx

P.S. I’d love to know: has a day completely derailed for you recently? What did you do to get it back on track? Or did you just let it go? Drop your experiences in the comments - the good, the chaotic, and the 'I genuinely gave up at midday.' This is a no-judgement zone!

I’ve been thinking a lot about this phase of life lately.

The one where life has quietly become very full - whether that’s building a career, raising a family, showing up for the people you love, or all of the above - and still trying to hold onto some sense of yourself in the middle of it all.

It’s fast. Often a little relentless.
Not because anything is wrong - but because everything is happening, at once.

Which makes it very easy to slip into auto-pilot.

Phase Two is about learning to do it a little differently.

Making space for the parts of life that tend to get squeezed out - the dinners, the conversations, the moments to reflect, the small rituals that make things feel good, not just productive. The bits that shape what comes next.

Not a reset. Just a slightly better edit.

I’ve always believed in making something for yourself - and this space is part of that: a place to collect, test and share the things that make this phase of life feel richer.

Here’s a snapshot of what you can expect:

• Practical self development (the kind we can test and apply together)

• Reflections on work, identity, ambition and balance (does the latter even exist?!)

• Curated recommendations of the things that make life better - for me, that looks like food, travel, hosting, content and more

• Conversations with thoughtful, ambitious women navigating their own version of Phase Two

I’ll also be sharing my journey of building my Phase Two Supper Club (name still pending!) - a series of intimate dinners designed to bring women together around a beautifully set table, creating space for the kind of connection that’s easy to lose as life gets busier.

Because those who know me know that candles and place cards are very much my love language.

Who is this for?

This is for the woman who has a lot going on - and wants it to feel as good as it looks.

Who cares about the career and the dinner party.

Who wants to be intentional - but realistic about what that actually looks like in a full life.

Who knows this phase matters in building what comes next - and doesn’t want to sleepwalk through it.

What will you get?

One email, every week.

If you’re trying to thrive in the phase of life no one quite prepares you for - or simply looking for inspiration to make your days feel a little richer - you’re in the right place.

If it sounds like your kind of thing, I’d love you to subscribe and come along for it.

Subscribe now

Until next week,

Annabelle xx

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