An english professor in college, who most likely passed me with flying colors because of my Cher impression, always said, “Nothing was created in a vacuum.” At the time, he was encouraging us to read period appropriate texts in order to give context to what we were reading. Admittedly, I read just enough to get by in that class (if Spark Notes counts), and I wrote my final paper on the interaction of scenery and plot in the Harry Potter films, though I would have much preferred to write about The Sixth Sense. I was a design major, worlds away from becoming a writer (or reader for that matter). But what he said stayed with me.

Nothing is created in a vacuum. Neither then nor now. This makes the world feel incredibly small and you incredibly close. Sure, we may never say hi or bump shoulders on the street. But we may very well make the same chocolate cake recipe over and over. And we may very well read the same websites. And buy the same pointy toed shoes. And wear our hair in a top knot. And our phone without a cover. (I know, I should really buy a cover.)

And my grandma’s one-of-a-kind recipe for peach cobbler may very well be your grandma’s—a cup, a cup, a cup, a stick? That’s the one.

I read it in between the lines. I want it too—to be original, the first to think of this or that. The most. The best. One-of-a-kind. I want to be the only person to name her daughter Hallie (who most often gets called Holly or Haley because of its unfamiliarity). Ingenuity is a good thing, but sometimes it comes at a cost. We let the number of followers next to our instagram handle fuel the obsession to create new, to create different, because that’s what people like. While designing our home, Kev and I often say, “I don’t want our house to look like every other house on pinterest.” For what reason? I’m not exactly sure anymore.

Instead of fighting the vacuum, what if we acknowledged her. She’s not trying to steal our glory. She’s trying to give us context. The context of you and me, and the fact that we exist and have leverage on one another.  This world is incredibly small. The internet made it that way. But I’m certain, we’re not as different as we may try. Sometimes I think we’ve gotten so wrapped up in celebrating our differences that we’ve forgotten how similar we are. And there’s beauty in that too.

In the same spirit, this simple chocolate cake is not an original Fauxmartha recipe, though it’s become my recipe from the amount of times I’ve made it. The cake itself is one I learned to make from Warren Brown of Cake Love, who taught me to mix on low and underwhelm the batter until the very end. It makes for a tight crumb and flat top. The frosting is a traditional american buttercream adapted slightly from Add a Pinch. It’s rich, dense, and buttery. And the best for last—that cake stand. It’s a handcrafted stand from AHeirloom. The simplicity in design is absolutely breathtaking. And if you’ve made it this far down the post, they’ve given me one to give to you too. Head over to Instagram to enter (ends 2/2 at 10 am CST).

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Cake recipe from Cake Love. Buttercream adapted from Add a Pinch.