Tucked in a shoebox somewhere is a concert ticket from a band you forgot you loved. It’s creased, a little torn at the corner and the ink’s fading. You haven’t looked at it in years, but somehow, you’ve never thrown it away.
In a world where our memories live in the cloud, where our camera rolls are overloaded, and even wedding invites arrive by email, it’s easy to wonder: why do we still keep the paper?
Because paper feels different.
A handwritten note. A vow on the back of a napkin. A thank you card that still has a coffee ring and tear stains from when you cried reading it. These things live with us, quietly. They don’t ping. But when we find them again, hidden in a drawer or tucked into a book, it’s a memory you can touch.
We live in a world that’s obsessed with upgrades. Phones, apps, inboxes, timelines. Everything’s faster, cleaner, sleeker. And yet, some of us are still out here hoarding scraps of paper like they’re sacred texts. Because they kind of are.
Paper has presence in ways that screens don’t. It ages. It smudges and folds from when you held it too tightly. It’s not perfect. But neither are we. And maybe that’s the point.
There’s something charming about imperfection. It feels grounding to keep a piece of your past in a form that can’t be auto-corrected or deleted. Holding onto a physical bit of paper that was a handcrafted project reminds us of humanity, artistic expression, and individuality.
And for many of us, hoarding these little fragments of our lives is almost ritualistic. A love note folded into a wallet. Photo strips from a vintage photobooth. The lyrics of your first dance scrawled on hotel stationery. They’re not just “things”, they’re proof. Of love. Of chaos. Of joy.
Paper isn’t just paper. It’s time travel. It’s a reminder when your memory’s gone fuzzy. A setlist you caught mid-air at your favourite gig. A wedding invite you designed yourselves because none of the templated ones felt right. You don’t keep them because they’re perfect, you keep them because they’re real.
These days, there’s something a bit punk about refusing to let your life live entirely on a screen. About saying: no, I want the physical evidence. I want the rough edges. I want to feel something when I hold it. Especially around weddings – where everything’s filtered, curated, and chasing some Pinterest-perfect aesthetic. There’s something radical about imperfection.
So, as you plan your wedding, think about the paper you’ll want to find years from now. Your vows, your guest notes, your partner’s terrible first attempt at a speech. Don’t just print what’s expected either, print what you’ll want to remember.
Because some memories deserve more than a swipe or a scroll. Think about the paper you’ll want to find in a shoebox one day. Because sure, the cloud is convenient. But paper? Paper’s got real heart and soul.
About the Author
Kimberley Nugent is passionate about print. She is also the Creative Director and Founder of Blue Moon Editions. If your wedding photos are gathering digital dust on your phone or buried in clunky old albums, Blue Moon Editions offers a beautiful solution, a completely bespoke, luxurious wedding magazine designed to showcase your love story in style. Each Edition can hold hundreds of photos alongside your own personalised wording: vows, readings, speeches, song lyrics – every detail that made your day yours. The result? A curated, coffee table-worthy piece you’ll treasure forever. Your wedding story. Told beautifully, offline and in your hands.