My grandmother's monogrammed stationery sits in my desk drawer, and I still write thank-you notes by hand because email feels like shouting into a void — last week I sent one to the contractor who actually showed up on time for the Beacon Hill renovation, and he called me bewildered as if I'd mailed a Fabergé egg. People call it performative, but the scratch of a fountain pen on heavy cotton paper is the only thing that slows my brain down enough to mean what I say. 🖋️