The key to Pinterest.

Everything you keep saving, found and kept in one place.

You know the feeling. A velvet bow on someone’s front door, a paper star in a stranger’s window, a vase that turns out to be a book. You save it, and the trail goes cold: ten tabs, three sellers, none of them quite sure. Small Pleasures is where those objects end up — found, gathered on one shelf, so you can stop chasing them.

A velvet bow on someone’s front door, a paper star in a stranger’s window, a vase that turns out to be a book. You save it, and the trail goes cold. Small Pleasures is where those objects end up — found, and gathered on one shelf.

Turn the key How we choose

Fig. 1 — The key. Drawn to no particular scale.

01 · Before the key, and after

Ten tabs.Eight tabs. One box.

This is what saving looks like from the inside. Now turn the key.

Ten tabs open. Every pin in its own tab, none of them quite sure.

Le Vase Livre with white peonies on a sunlit side table

The Door Bells on their velvet ribbon, up close

“You saved it. We went and found it.”

The whole idea, in one line

02 · Three short chapters

Between the pin and your door.

The Paper Star in a window at golden hour

What we look for

Objects that stop the thumb. The ones you save without deciding to — a star folded from paper, a bow too large to be sensible, a vase pretending to be a book. Small, kind to the eye, quietly unusual.

Objects that stop the thumb — a star folded from paper, a bow too large to be sensible, a vase pretending to be a book.

How we choose

We look closely, the way you would if it were already in your hand: the fold, the knot, the weight of the velvet. If the real thing isn’t as good as the picture, it doesn’t come in.

We look closely: the fold, the knot, the weight of the velvet. If the real thing isn’t as good as the picture, it doesn’t come in.