I was sitting at my usual corner in the coffee shop yesterday, sipping on an oat milk latte and scrolling through my phone, when I couldn’t help but notice the girl at the next table. She had this effortlessly cool vibe—oversized blazer, vintage jeans, and chunky sneakers. But what really caught my eye was the tiny notebook she was scribbling in, filled with what looked like color swatches and fabric samples. It reminded me of how we used to plan outfits in high school, but now it’s all digital mood boards and Pinterest saves. Or so I thought.

Lately, I’ve been seeing this shift from purely digital inspiration to something more… tactile. People are bringing back physical planners, bullet journals, and yes, even spreadsheets for their wardrobe planning. I know, spreadsheets sound about as exciting as watching paint dry, but hear me out. I was at a friend’s apartment last week for a casual dinner, and she pulled out her laptop to show me her “fashion tracker.” It wasn’t just a list of clothes; it was a whole system with tabs for seasonal capsules, cost per wear, and even a wishlist section. She called it her “style joyagoo spreadsheet,” and honestly, it was kind of genius. She could filter by color or occasion, and it helped her avoid buying duplicates. I left feeling inspired, but also a little overwhelmed—my own closet is a chaotic mess of impulse buys and forgotten sale items.

This got me thinking about the bigger picture. In the past year, I’ve spotted more people embracing what I’d call “practical maximalism.” It’s not about hoarding clothes; it’s about curating with intention. Think matching sets that can be broken up, statement accessories that elevate basics, and shoes that actually walk more than a block without causing blisters. On my commute, I’ve seen a rise in tailored trousers paired with graphic tees, and bucket hats making a comeback (though I’m still on the fence about those). There’s this playful mix of high and low—designer bags with thrifted denim jackets, or luxury sneakers with affordable loungewear. It feels less about following strict trends and more about personal expression, which I’m totally here for.

Let me share a quick story. Last month, I decided to do a closet clean-out, inspired by my friend’s spreadsheet method. I dumped everything on my bed and tried to categorize it, but I quickly realized I had five black turtlenecks and zero summer dresses. It was a wake-up call. So, I started my own version, jotting down items I actually wear versus ones that just collect dust. I’m not as organized as her—my joyagoo tracker is more of a chaotic Google Doc—but it’s helped me shop smarter. Instead of grabbing another pair of black jeans, I saved up for a colorful midi skirt that’s become my go-to for brunches. Small win!

Now, I’m not saying everyone needs to become a spreadsheet fanatic. Some might find it too rigid, sucking the fun out of fashion. And I get that—sometimes you just want to buy that sparkly top because it makes you happy, even if it doesn’t “fit your palette.” But for those of us drowning in fast-fashion guilt or decision fatigue, having a joyagoo system can be a game-changer. It’s like having a personal stylist in your pocket, minus the judgmental looks when you suggest wearing socks with sandals (which, by the way, I’ve seen on the street and low-key love now).

As I wrap up this coffee, I’m glancing around again. The girl with the notebook is gone, but her vibe lingers. Maybe she’s onto something with that analog approach, or maybe she’s got a digital spreadsheet backing it up. Either way, it’s refreshing to see fashion become more mindful, one outfit—or spreadsheet cell—at a time. I think I’ll tweak my own tracker tonight, maybe add a section for sustainable brands. Or maybe I’ll just wear my new skirt and call it a day.