I am deeply enamoured with Filofax, and I confess I would be utterly lost without it. It's not just a planner; it's a part of me.
Their very necessary convenience has led to the quietus of my need for handbag therapy.
How many Filofaxes can you use at one time? Maybe three or five?
Does it matter because, much like a handbag, they define a person's character?
Need I say more?
You can tell a lot by a person's handbag.
I use 'persons' here in the vernacular as both men and women use a bag to transport essential items.
My Filofaxes are all carefully stored in a bookcase in order of colour and size, and I change them as you do underwear.
Depending on my mood, colour drives my choice; I am lost in the glory of all the colours.
My current Filofax, a charming baby pink, serves as my brainstorming hub and a repository for essential things. It's also my wellness and fitness planner, a testament to its practicality in my daily life.
It is a place for thoughts and ideas, and it is easy to change things around as the pages are removable and inserted into binder rings.
I use it as I would a bullet journal, but the difference is that it is uniquely customisable and versatile.
It's not just a planner; it's a canvas for my creativity and a tool for my productivity.
I love that I can move, remove and change the layout of my Filofax.
It is portable and easily transportable, especially the mini or pocket-size version.
It is a one-stop shop where I can find what I need when needed.
The digital fashionistas among you probably roll your eyes in disbelief; why use paper when you can store it digitally?
I've written about this before as I have one foot in each camp.
I have been using a Filofax in some shape or form for over thirty years, maybe longer, and I love its versatility and flexibility to change.
It reflects my changeability and moodiness.
According to a 1987 LA Times article, celebrities and famous people use Filofax, notably Steven Spielberg, Diane Keaton, and Woody Allen.
It is the one accessory I take with me everywhere, and I will not negotiate on it, so if it means additional luggage allowance, so be it.
Its organisation keeps me on the right track and is reassuringly calming.
But it is more than a functional daily planner.
It is a journal and a go-to reminder that life can also be analogous rather than solely digital.
I'm sure that the various Filofax styles represent the type of person you are.
What does an A4-size Filofax say about you?
Authoritative and businesslike?
Does the A5 size represent indecisiveness?
Because we can't decide whether the A4 or personal size is suitable, so we settle for the A5.
What about the mini or pocket-size version?
Does it demonstrate how organised and secure you are, needing only the compact size to organise life?
Many Filofax users use it for daily organisation; they appreciate the physical act of writing, and I am reassured that writing isn't a lost art—not yet, anyway.
Let me clarify: I'm not writing this for a commission.
I'm sharing the sheer joy of owning a variety of Filofaxes, each with its own story and charm, from the expensive to the affordable, and some that have been with me for many years.
Should I acknowledge that I am a gatherer of items, or am I a hobbyist, a purveyor of all things collectable?
It's weird, but I feel satisfied looking at them neatly stacked on my shelf.
Is it menopausal madness?
I've tried exercise and meal-planning journals, which I find tedious, and extolled the virtues of bullet journaling, but I am still drawn to the Filofax.
Having it all in my Filofax makes sticking to my habits easier.
This small daily ritual means I prioritise myself, which is neither selfish nor indulgent but practical and useful.