There was a time when the Friday after Thanksgiving felt like an event — a full-day sport of chaos, caffeine, and camaraderie. The frustration of no parking. The ridiculousness of running into half your family at the mall. The carefully drawn map of all the stores we planned to hit. The debate over where to eat after a day of panic, promise, and planning. We hated it, we loved it, and somehow, it was ours.

I can still picture it: riding all around my city, bags piled in the back seat, receipts scattered like confetti. We’d fought traffic, waited in endless lines, and finally ended up at Applebee’s — two for twenty, because tradition. By the time we made it to our final stop, I was convinced frustration and fatigue had won.

And then it happened..

As if the stars couldn’t have aligned more perfectly, the radio flipped to The Temptations’ “Silent Night.” 🙌🏽
Instantly, I caught my second wind. I sang like I was performing for a sanctified, holiday spirit filled audience, my aunt hyping me up from the passenger seat — “SANG, GIRL!” — and there we were, sitting in a parking lot, belting out Christmas soul classics after a day of fun, frustration, food, and family.

It’s one of those memories that’s anchored itself — a snapshot of what the holidays used to feel like: messy, loud, human, and beautiful.

Now it’s all so quiet. A few clicks. A dozen packages at your door. Convenient, sure — but sterile somehow. The stories don’t arrive with the receipts anymore.

So this year, I’m bringing it back — my way. I’m making a Black Friday map again, just for nostalgia’s sake. Except my stops aren’t big-box stores. A day that'll start with coffee ofcourse and stops that weave curated sentimental finds and calm. My favorite second hand store's. A cute local gift shop boasting bohemian flare. Another, a cozy café. Maybe even a local bookstore. A “thrifted vs. gifted” kind of day — less about the deals, more about delight.

Because maybe what I miss most isn’t the sale at all.
Maybe it’s that feeling — the way it once felt to make a day out of something simple, to chase the sparkle of the season, and to remember that joy doesn’t have to come in a box. Sometimes, it lives in a parking lot — where The Temptations sing you right back home.

If you could curate a day of intentional browsing and purchasing for the holidays, what would it look like? Feel like? What moment would you create for yourself that reflects the shape of you?