Sometimes I think about technology and how it has changed collective sense of time. That five day cruise from London to New York is now a six hour flight and months of book based research has given way to hours of electronic archives. I am usually highly appreciative of such time-saving evolutions. Gone are the days of sea sickness, library habitation, and so many other less than desirable phenomenon. However, one mainstay of the past that I fully embrace is postal mail.
So many things about snail mail are reassuring. First, there is an actual paper trail. Second, control. Third, well, control. You have the option to pick the stationary, the envelope, the message…even the ink color rests solely in your capable little hands. About now the alarm for “control freak” should be buzzing RED ALERT in everyone’s mind, but when you think about how this control allows you to craft the perfect message, the perfect feel, its actually quite reassuring.
I take great solace in knowing that even if someone has never met me, they will have a strikingly accurate idea of my personality and life perspective just by opening my letter. And to those that do know me, I enjoy carefully thinking out the appearance of my correspondence, knowing that the thought that goes into my parcel will be acknowledged by its recipient.
At times in my life, I have cycled between Picasso stationary, 100% post-consumer content notecards, and customized thank you notes. My current obsession comes from a company called San Lorenzo Design. They are the main purveyors of Kartos de Montecatini, a Florentine stationary producer whose product provides stiff competition to the “Made in China,” cardstock which has inundated American bureaux. While difficult to find, this stationary provides a quality, thoughtful alternative to those of discerning tastes. This pattern featured below is my current vice, Medicea, which is inspired by a traditional Florentine design, but with a slightly more elegant style and coloration.
Every time I go to my desk and see this stationary, I try to find excuses to write letters. Call me silly, but the first time you receive a letter that was clearly thought out with more than an ounce of sincerity, you will understand. A few more boxes of Medicea and I will quite truthfully start to fear for the longevity of e-mail.