I would venture to say that most coffee/tea drinkers have The Mug. The one that fits your hand just perfectly, doesn't dribble down when you sip, has the perfect-sized lip, the handle that suits you just so - be it dainty and petite or large and sturdy - admit it. Of all the mugs we collect and adore, there's always The Mug that you hope isn't in the dishwasher. Only it probably is, because you used it yesterday.
My mother and I are similar in that we only use certain mugs on the weekends. Those are special mugs. They require time and attention with each sip because they are beautiful pieces of art and so am I, dang it.
This is the one mug that I find myself using interchangeably. It brings me joy during the week and when the weekend comes it is still cheery enough to surpass any fear that it might suddenly put me on week-day mode. It's The Mug.
Here's why. A year ago I was delayed in London, by happy surprise, and had 24 hours to explore the city on my own. It was my second time there so I had a basic idea of where to go but mainly I just wandered. I found myself at a bookstore going ga-ga over all the stationery and particularly drawn to all things by English designer, Cath Kidston.
Side note: when in London you must purchase items made in London. Even if that means you go to TJ Maxx because they have that semi-horrid store there and you're broke and you browse the aisles until you find a pair of pants under 20 pounds that has the words "Made in London" stitched on the tag. JACK POT.
Anyways, Cath is all flowers, polka dots, hand drawn patterns, and pure fun. I purchased a set of stationery that was sort of like a pad of paper that can fold into an envelope after you write your notes. Cath is also highly efficient.
When I made it back to the airport I noticed there was an entire store of Cath Kidston goodies. I was immediately drawn to a set of four mugs that I knew I didn't have room for but those mugs and I had a moment and it was necessary that I buy them. When you're in London for 24 surprise hours everything becomes desperate and urgent.
Then I had a brilliant idea, and this is why I love this mug so much. The set came with four different colored mugs, all with the same motif. There are four women in my family; I'd say we are also different colors with the same motif.
My mom took the pink one, my middle sister took the blue one, my youngest sister took the green one, and I have the yellow.
It's a nice size, the handle will do, and I rarely dribble from it, but mostly - it's one of four, just like me. When I drink from it, I think of the sisterhood of the same-but-different mug.
Every good object has a story behind it; every tangible thing that matters to you only matters because there is an emotional tie to it. A mug is just a mug, but The Mug is my mother, my sister, and my sister. And it is quite the delight.