Paper and card are the quiet foundations of everything I make. They’re not always the first thing people notice, but they’re often the thing that makes a piece of stationery feel right the moment you touch it.
I don’t choose materials based on trends or what photographs well online. I choose them based on how they feel to use, how they behave with pens, and whether they suit the kind of stationery I’d want in my own hands.
Starting with how something will actually be used
The first question I always ask is how the product will be used in real life. A greeting card needs to feel sturdy and reassuring. A planner sheet needs to cope with being written on repeatedly. A memo pad needs to be something you reach for without thinking.
If the material doesn’t suit its purpose, the design doesn’t matter. Stationery should feel easy, not precious or intimidating.
The conversation around “gatekeeping” materials
There’s a word that comes up a lot when small businesses talk about materials: gatekeeping. And I understand why the conversation exists.
We wouldn’t ask a luxury brand where their perfume is made or exactly which fabrics a designer label uses. But with small or independent businesses, there’s often an expectation that everything should be shared openly.
I don’t judge anyone for choosing not to share their exact materials. Sourcing takes time and money. Most makers have spent hundreds of pounds testing things that didn’t work before finding what does. Not sharing that information isn’t about being unkind — it’s about protecting the work that went into getting there.
There’s also the reality that what works for one person won’t necessarily work for someone else. Materials behave differently depending on what you’re making, how you work, and what your priorities are.
What I can share — and why paper matters so much to me
I won’t share every material I use, for all of those reasons. But there is one core element I’m happy to be open about: paper.
For me, paper is non-negotiable. Thin, scratchy paper — like the kind you’d find in a basic report pad — feels awful to use. It’s a sensory thing. If writing doesn’t feel good, your brain doesn’t want to do it again.
This feels bad, don’t do it again.
This feels nice, do it again.
It’s very simple brain science.
Because of that, paper weight matters to me more than almost anything else.
Why I use 120gsm paper
All of my notebooks, planner inserts, memo pads — anything that’s paper rather than card — is made using 120gsm paper.
Standard printer paper is usually around 80gsm. It’s fine, but it feels thin. At the other end of the scale, 160gsm paper feels gorgeous and luxurious, but it comes with a big jump in cost.
At the time of writing, I can source:
- 160gsm paper at around £11 for 250 A4 sheets
- 120gsm paper at around £3.50 for 250 A4 sheets
While I love how 160gsm feels, that price difference would push my product costs up significantly. And that goes directly against my goal of making everyday stationery that feels good and stays affordable.
120gsm is the sweet spot for me. It feels substantial without being bulky. It holds up beautifully with felt-tip pens, gel pens, and even fountain pen inks — which are my personal favourite. I keep blotting paper to hand when needed, but overall it performs far better than people expect.
And yes — I buy it from my local supermarket. I use navigator paper in the yellow packaging.
Balancing quality and accessibility
I want stationery to feel good whether you’re scribbling a quick note or sitting down with your planner or journal. Good paper shouldn’t be reserved for “important” writing only.
By choosing materials carefully — and realistically — I can create stationery that feels thoughtful and enjoyable without turning it into something that feels out of reach.
That balance matters to me. Because stationery should make everyday life feel a little nicer, not more complicated.