THE JOY OF A HANDWRITTEN NOTE
Kenya Hunt loves letters
I have a stationery wardrobe that rivals the one in which my dresses hang. There are my neat, chic boxes of classic ivory letterpress correspondence cards by Smythson and Mount Street Printers, and bold, flashy gold-rimmed versions by Studio Sarah. And, as Christmas looms, I’m going kitsch and ordering a special printing of greetings cards drawn by my eight-year-old son. I’m hardly alone in my hobby. Greetings cards sales have skyrocketed during the pandemic. Stamps are back.
There has never been a more appealing time to send or receive a handwritten note, as we’ve all been spending far too much time on our screens in lockdown. I finished writing a book, spending most nights typing on a laptop into the late hours, so my screen-time quadrupled. But, as I work in fashion – an industry where people still write thank yous on personalised letterpress note cards – the allure of old-school pen and paper remains strong.
There’s something thrilling about writing an extended letter, by hand, in place of an email, direct message or text. The sense of the human touch makes it feel more intimate. Plus, knowing how long it takes to write out a thought, dig out a stamp and then wait in a queue at the Post Office (because these days, they’re long!) means it’s also a real sign of love and care.
Even friends who work in Big Tech are fierce loyalists to physical things such as printed books and paper diaries. I’ve seen many others rediscover the old book The Artist’s Way by Julia Cameron, which prescribes stream-of-consciousness journalling, by hand, every morning. The eyes need a break from the blue light, yes, but the mind and heart do as well.
I like that handwritten notes feel more considered and permanent than a text sent in a half-thought – not that one can’t communicate ‘I love you,’ ‘I miss you,’ or ‘I’m sorry’ digitally. I actually have a folder filled with 13 years’ worth of little emailed haikus my husband has written for me, dating back to our earliest flirtations, pre-dating, pre-marriage. But it’s the little notes he’s written for me on postcards, napkins and book jackets that I treasure most.
Maybe, as a writer, I’m just predisposed to like paper. I’m the person who heads straight to the glass box filled with old letters of correspondence at museums, while everyone else crowds around large-scale works by Basquiat or Warhol. I scrutinise the faded, cursive writing in the letters and journal entries like a nosy housemate.
Sometimes, when I pull out my collection of notes from my husband, I imagine how they’ll be viewed and interpreted generations from now, when they’re stumbled upon sometime in the future. There’s no doubt it’ll be at a point when handwritten notes seem even more of an old-fashioned, long-lost luxury than they do now.
There’s also an element of surprise to receiving a note through the post that you just don’t get with email. When I hear the notification that lets me know a new message (or five) has arrived in my inbox, I feel the slight tension and panic that comes with the weight of too many obligations. That’s because emails are so often glorified items on a to-do list: agreements that need to be confirmed, deadlines that need to be met and requests that need to be approved. Handwritten notes come with no such responsibility; no one writes a letter to ask you to speak on a panel, review a budget or organise a meeting. If emails are all business, handwritten notes are all fun; wedding invitations and Christmas cards and love letters and ‘I was just thinking of you’ check-ins. And, in a year when social distancing has left many of us feeling adrift, we could all use a lot more of that.
‘Letters are a real sign of love and care’