Taste Is a Love Language: How to Curate a Life
(aka: choosing things like they’re auditioning for a role in your world)
Some people hear “taste” and think money. Or aesthetics. Or whatever minimal-beige influencer culture keeps trying to force-feed us.
That’s cute for them.
Meanwhile, the rest of us are out here using taste as a personality trait, a survival strategy, AND a quiet rebellion. Because honestly, life gets a lot better when you stop picking things at random and start choosing like you actually know yourself.
Taste is not about perfection.
It’s about discernment.
It’s how you say: “I know what adds to my world and what sucks the life out of it.”
If you know, you know.
Taste is a love language
(especially when life keeps trying to hand you things you didn’t ask for)
Choosing the right candle? Love language.
Choosing the wrong man and then choosing yourself afterward? Power move.
Choosing a playlist that makes you feel like someone who has main character potential even if you’re literally just cleaning? Character development.
Taste is the quiet way we care for ourselves. One choice, one moment, one “absolutely not” at a time.
And no — it’s not shallow.
It’s emotional architecture.
And honestly? Taste is a rebellion.
Because we live in a world where:
• algorithms decide what’s “trending,”
• strangers decide what’s “attractive,”
• brands decide what’s “luxury,”
• and society decides what’s “appropriate” for you and your vibe.
Taste says: “Actually, I’ll decide that, thanks.”
Taste is choosing your world on purpose instead of accepting the default settings.
Taste is knowing why a thrifted mirror feels more like you than a $400 curated influencer shelf.
Taste is deleting someone’s number not because you hate them, but because their presence clashes with your interior design.
Taste is saying, “I don’t know why, but this isn’t my vibe,” and leaving before the plot goes sideways.
Taste is being your own filter.
Your own editor.
Your own curator.
That’s rebellion.
If you want to know someone don’t ask their favorite color.
Ask them what they refuse to tolerate.
Taste is not what we like.
Taste is what we refuse.
It’s the restaurant we won’t step foot in again. The friend we stopped chasing. The bar we silently crossed off our emotional map. The outfit we said “no” to even though it fit. The person we realized was messing with our peace and promptly blocked.
Taste is the spine behind the softness.
Modern taste is a little chaotic just like us.
Let’s be honest:
Women today are curating lives in between burnout, healing, half-finished laundry, and a TikTok feed that thinks we want to see ten different types of cereal girlies.
Taste IS chaotic, intuitive, shaped by heartbreak, humor, good lighting, bad decisions, therapy breakthroughs, and that one playlist you swear rewired your personality.
It comes from instincts sharpened by stuff like that one friend who always knows the right thing to say, our own mistakes (my favorite teacher, unfortunately), and chaos that could’ve taken us out but didn’t.
Taste isn’t pretty. It’s personal.
And that’s why it hits.
Curating a life isn’t about controlling everything.
It’s about choosing what you’ll allow to stay.
Taste is boundaries disguised as style. Taste is self-respect dressed up as preference.
Taste is saying:
“My life is not a free-for-all. Please audition.”
Your clothes audition. Your habits audition. Your friendships audition. Your dates audition. Your skincare routine? Absolutely auditioning.
And your future?
She’s not casting just anyone.
Taste is a love letter to the version of you who deserves better.
It’s the quiet “I’ve learned my lesson” without saying the lesson out loud.
It’s the “I want more for myself” disguised as rearranging your room at 11PM.
It’s the “I know who I am now” that blossoms in the little choices, not the big ones.
Curating a life isn’t about making it perfect. It’s about making it yours.
Taste is how we do it softly, boldly, chaotically, intentionally.
Taste is how we choose ourselves.
Every single day.
