how to prepare for winter
a sip of calm for a dark winter day (postcard vol. 017)
Dear Flan,
The first frost arrived silently this week, like a hesitant visitor who tiptoes across the world, leaving delicate lacework on windowpanes and a soft hush over the cobblestone streets. There’s something both sharp and tender in those early mornings: the air bites gently at your cheeks, yet it reminds you that living things are alive, even in their slowest, coldest hours. Winter has a way of arriving suddenly, a season that narrows the world and stretches our attention, asking us to notice the small, often overlooked details: the way sunlight catches a frozen branch, the steam rising from a teacup, the rhythm of your own breath in the cold.
And yet, there is hope in the frost. As Mary Shelley reminds us:
“Snow makes the world clean and new.”
Winter can feel harsh, isolating, even heavy; it offers a rare opportunity to stand still, to reset, and to return to the parts of ourselves that summer’s chaos often buries. It is a season that demands intentionality if we are to emerge from it alive, radiant and in a state of ethereal.
In this week’s postcard, I want to explore how to meet winter with presence rather than autopilot. How to care for yourself: body, mind, space, and energy. When the days are short and the nights long. How to create winter rituals and find focus in areas of your life that need attention, or gentle recalibration. How to plan cosy activities for a winter day that fight the darkness.
Winter does not have to be a season we merely endure.
Accompanied by small acts of care and attention, winter can become a season of nourishment instead of hibernation. Like the first snowflakes falling softly over the city, it transforms the familiar into something new when we meet it with curiosity.
Learnings of the week
Winter slows the world.
There’s a hush in the streets, a softness in the light, and an invitation to notice the small, often overlooked details. I like to think of it as a deep, silent library: quiet, introspective, demanding patience to uncover its treasures. There is magic in lighting candles, layering blankets, and taking slow walks through frost-tipped streets. The air is sharp, the city hushed, and yet every breath reminds us we are alive.
“When the cold comes for you, the blood stops running to your limbs. It pulls up inside to keep your organs warm; next, the cold comes for your mind. And after that, your will. And yet, still, the heart fights on.”
Winter is an opportunity to reset: to care for your body, your mind, your environment, and your energy.
Here is how I do it, starting off strong with:
My Winter Morning Routine
Begin your day grounded, letting intention guide each action:
Start with a prayer or quiet reflection to centre yourself.
Get some sunlight into your system by opening up all the curtains, and if you are up for it, a quick, brisk walk.
Make a festive drink, such as peppermint tea or cocoa.
Prepare a nourishing breakfast that focuses on inner health and energy, especially during darker months when vitamin D is low. I like to call this a “skincare breakfast”.
Sudoku, crossword, or puzzle - to wake up your mind.
Spend some time reading from your winter TBR or working on a cosy hobby.
Winter Skincare Essentials
The dry air can leave skin flaky and sensitive, so winter is the perfect season to be intentional with your skincare. Here are some tips:
Moisturise with products rich in ceramides and antioxidants.
Add extra steps such as toners or serums (look for products that say “milky”).
Optional indulgence: tools like the Medicube Pro R Age Booster.
Hydrating sheet mask for self-care nights.
Keep cuticle oil and hand cream at your desk, in your bag, and at night.
Environment and Mindset
Give your room a deep clean to start afresh. Update your winter wardrobe: layering, textures, experimenting with new pieces, and add seasonal decor: candles, fairy lights, winter scents - romanticising life is not frivolous; it is a gentle armour against the grey.
Winter Activities and Hobbies
Even as the evenings darken early, there is joy to be found:
Ice-skating or strolling through your city to admire christmas lights.
Sampling seasonal drinks or street foods, like roasted chestnuts.
Lounging at home with a good book and ambient music (jazz or the harry potter soundtrack, you can find plenty on youtube).
Writing that long-pondered story (this could be that masterpiece you have been dreaming about) or embarking on a small creative project - not for productivity, but for curiosity and delight (for me, that will be my personal curriculum or hobbies).
(Next week, I’ll share a full london winter guide: walking routes for light displays, best ice-skating spots, and festive treats.)
Winter Evening Routine
Use candlelight as a cue to transition into cosy winter mode.
Then: run a warm bath, enjoy a nourishing soup, and close the day with hobbies or gentle reflection. Let the evening be a soft exhale, a time to indulge in cosiness, and to celebrate the season’s stillness. Winter is a mission, deliberate and alive. As the captain in Frankenstein reminds us:
“We signed up for a mission; we will reach the north pole.”
Treat this season as your mission: slow, intentional, and illuminated by small acts of care.
If you want to romanticise winter, here’s my latest winter book and media recommendation guide:
If you wish to scroll through my other winter seasonal essays, there’s a dedicated segment on my substack — desktop edition only.
Moodboard of the week
This November, take a moment to step outside into the crisp air, letting the season settle around you. Watch how the sky tilts earlier toward dusk, how the first hints of frost trace the edges of leaves, and let each quiet detail pull you into the present. In these shrinking days, there is a gentle invitation to slow down, to notice, and to begin turning inward for the winter ahead.
Replacing the scroll 📜
Here are my top media or life recommendations for different categories that you can consume instead of doomscrolling:
Read
The Post Office Girl by Stefan Zweig — a haunting portrait of post-war europe and a young woman’s brush with luxury and despair. Zweig’s writing is tender and devastating, perfect for those who love introspective stories about class, longing, and the fragility of hope.
A long-form philosophical piece, those declared monsters are ejected from the human family by Aeon publication, exploring what happens when society labels people as ‘monsters’. Thought-provoking and beautifully written, ideal for readers who enjoy moral reflection, psychology, and the art of deep thinking.
Watch
The Shining (1980) — directed by Stanley Kubrick, an eerie, atmospheric descent into isolation, fitting for the long nights of winter. It is a meditation on madness, creativity, and solitude.
The Grand Budapest Hotel (2014) – directed by Wes Anderson is set in a fading European hotel between wars. The film follows the eccentric concierge Monsieur Gustave H. and his loyal lobby boy, Zero, as they navigate stolen paintings, old-world manners, and the slow decline of a once-golden age. It is my favourite film: one I return to whenever I need to remember that beauty and absurdity can coexist.
I’ll leave you with this for the week: when was the last time you treated the cold, the quiet, and the frost as invitations, rather than interruptions? Slow moments: letting steam curl from a warm cup of tea, tracing the frost on your window with your gaze, reading a single page without distraction, wrapping yourself in a blanket while the world outside softens into snow.
*New Offer*
🎁 Here’s The Holiday Special! with new seasonal essays and guides arriving soon, this is the perfect moment to join — the offer ends Dec 31, so don’t miss out.
Take Care,
Safiya Sardar. 🦢