I Switched from Regular Notebooks to a Refillable Leather Journal — Here's What Changed

For about six years, my system was simple: buy a notebook, fill it, buy another one. Usually whatever decent option was available — sometimes a nice Leuchtturm, sometimes whatever was at the bookstore. When it filled up, it went on a shelf with the others, and I started fresh.

It worked fine. I never thought about it much. Then a friend showed me her refillable leather journal — a cover she'd had for three years, with a stack of finished inserts next to it, each one dated on the spine. The cover looked nothing like it probably did when she bought it. It had a deep, uneven richness to the leather that you can't get from a new notebook.

I was skeptical it would actually change anything for me. Here's what happened after I switched.

Before the Switch — My Regular Notebook System {#before-the-switch}

I journaled most days, took notes for work, and kept a rough planning system — all in separate notebooks because that's just how it accumulated over time. I went through roughly 6-7 notebooks a year across everything.

Each one cost somewhere between $15-22 depending on the brand. None of them lasted more than two or three months before filling up or getting beaten up from being carried around. When one filled, I'd buy a replacement — sometimes the same brand, sometimes whatever looked decent at the store that week.

I didn't think there was anything wrong with this. It was just how notebooks worked.

Why I Actually Decided to Switch {#why-i-switched}

It wasn't really about money, at least not at first. It was about the inconsistency. My notebooks were a mismatched pile of different brands, different sizes, different cover colors. There was no continuity — no single object that represented "my writing." Just a rotating cast of whatever I'd bought most recently.

Seeing my friend's cover — worn in specific places from years of being carried in the same bag, a slightly different tone where her thumb opens it constantly — made we want something similar. Not because it looked nice (though it did), but because it represented years of consistent use in a way a pile of disposable notebooks never could.

I looked into refillable leather journal options, read a few buying guides, and ordered an A5 cover in crazy horse leather, personalized with my initials.

The First 30 Days — Adjustment Period {#first-30-days}

The leather was noticeably stiffer than I expected for the first week or two. New full-grain leather hasn't broken in yet — it holds its shape firmly, which is good for structure but takes a bit of getting used to compared to a soft notebook cover.

Loading the first insert felt slightly unfamiliar — sliding the booklet into the leather pockets, making sure it sat centered. After the second time, it was automatic.

The thing I noticed almost immediately: I was more careful with it. Not in an anxious way, but in the way you're naturally careful with something that feels like it's meant to last. I started actually closing it properly when I set it down, instead of leaving it open and face-down on whatever surface.

By day 30, the leather had already started to soften at the fold points and the corners where my hands gripped it most.

Six Months Later — What Actually Changed {#six-months-later}

This is the part that surprised me.

The cover had developed a genuinely noticeable patina — a richer, warmer tone overall, with slightly lighter areas where my thumb opens it daily and slightly darker tones at the corners from handling. It looked nothing like it did on day one, and it looked better.

I'd swapped inserts twice by this point — once for a fresh ruled notebook, once switching to dot grid because I was doing more project planning that month. Both swaps took under a minute. Neither required buying anything except the $10 insert itself.

The thing that changed most wasn't practical — it was how I felt about the object. I'd never been attached to a notebook before. They were functional and disposable. This cover, six months in, felt like something I'd actually miss if it got lost or damaged. That's a different relationship than I'd ever had with a notebook.

The Real Cost Comparison After One Year {#cost-comparison}

Here's the actual math from my first year:

Cover cost (one-time): $65 (A5, crazy horse leather, personalized) Inserts used over the year: 5 inserts, averaging $11 each = $55 Total Year 1: $120

What I would have spent on regular notebooks: 6-7 notebooks × $18 average = $108-126

Year one was roughly comparable — slightly more, mostly due to the cover's upfront cost. But that cost doesn't repeat.

Year 2 projection: 5 inserts × $11 = $55 total (cover already owned)

That's less than half what I was spending before, and the cover keeps improving rather than needing replacement. By year three, the savings compound clearly in favor of the refillable leather notebook system.

Honest Downsides — It's Not Perfect {#honest-downsides}

I want to be straightforward about this, because most reviews skip it.

The upfront cost is real. $65 for a cover is more than most people spend on a single notebook. If you're not committed to writing regularly, this isn't an obvious win in year one.

You need to plan ahead for inserts. Unlike grabbing a new notebook off a shelf when you're out, you need to have your next insert ready before the current one runs out, or order one in time. This requires slightly more planning than impulse-buying a notebook.

New leather needs breaking in. The first few weeks aren't as comfortable as a notebook you bought yesterday. If you want something that feels perfect immediately, this isn't that.

It's one object, not several. I genuinely like having one consistent journal now, but if you prefer variety — different notebook colors and styles for different moods — the refillable system is less suited to that. You'd need multiple covers to get that variety, which changes the economics.

Final Verdict {#final-verdict}

A year in, I wouldn't go back to my old system. The combination of lower long-term cost, the developing patina, and the simple fact of having one consistent object across all my writing — it adds up to something I didn't expect to care about as much as I do.

If you write regularly — daily journaling, frequent notes, ongoing planning — the math and the experience both favor switching. If you write occasionally, the case is less clear, and a good regular notebook might serve you just as well.

For me, the refillable leather journal turned out to be one of those small changes that affects something bigger than expected — not just how I store my notes, but how I feel about the act of writing itself.

If you're considering the switch, our refillable leather journals are made from full-grain crazy horse leather, available in A5 and A6, with personalization options.

Want to understand exactly how the system works before committing? Read How to Use a Refillable Leather Journal →

Inkora handcrafts refillable leather journals designed to be the only journal cover you ever need to buy.