The item I’ve chosen to analyze is my Ile-de-Ré mug that I got as a gift from my boss upon completion of an internship I did on the French island, Ile-de-Ré, in the summer of 2015. This is the same mug I brought in on the first day of class as an object that makes me happy. The mug is decorated with an image depicting a typical street on the island, and whenever I look at it, the corners of my mouth involuntarily start to curl up to form a smile. I recall the gentle, ever-blowing breeze, the wide open sky (no building there was taller than three floors high), the scent of the ocean, and the color scheme to which nearly all houses on the island adhered: white walls, a terra-cotta, shingled roof, and a pair of shutters for every window, each painted some shade of turquoise. This last memory—that adorably ubiquitous color scheme—is rendered in a faux-watercolor on this elegantly crafted, albeit cheap mug, so I never forget how Ile-de-Ré island looked (as if I could really forget such a place). In addition to the beauty of the island, the mug brings to mind memories of how independent and capable I felt when I was in France: I learned to cook for myself, I explored unfamiliar places by myself, and I traveled a good bit, sometimes alone. I associate those feelings strongly with these more sensory memories.

At home in New York, the Ile-de-Ré mug resides with all our other mugs, in a cupboard in the kitchen. When I’m on campus, however, its place is not in hiding, but on my dorm room desk with two other mugs I’ve collected since my time abroad. I typically place these three mugs together in a cluster, and together they stay unless I happen to use one, which, as I am a fan of tea, is relatively often. I’ve noticed that when I make tea, I’m more likely to pick up my Ile-de-Ré mug than my other two; I credit this to its unparalleled ability to calm and console me when I need it, evoking the memories mentioned I’ve described above. Reflecting on the mug reinforces what I already know—that I am a particularly sensitive and sentimental person, the kind of person who cherishes items like a souvenir mug because of how dearly they cherish the memories associated with them. Unlike the other two mugs, the one from Ile-de-Ré is special in that it reminds me of a particularly special point in my life. While it offers physical comfort when used as it was intended, even just looking at the pictures on it can do the trick. Maybe that’s why I keep my mugs on my desk, but all my other tableware in my closet: when I need to center myself, I just look over at it. When I need a cup of tea to relax, I need not search for it in my closet because it’s already out, on my desk, front and center. Admittedly, I’ve never questioned my choice of placement of these mugs until this assignment. Still, the more I think about it, the more it makes sense why I chose to keep them there. After all, what’s the point of owning a comforting item if it’s potentially a pain to get to?