A few days ago as I was catching my breath otherwise known as sprawling out on my bed, staring at the ceiling, and enjoying the silence, I realized something. I didn't feel like writing about London or Milan or Paris this season. It was hard enough grasping for straws in New York. Maybe I could give myself a break. Maybe I could ignore the rest altogether.
Things have been crazy. Not bad crazy necessarily (though there was some of that because, really, let’s think about whose life this is) but dizzying and distracting crazy. A pile of fashion magazines dating back to the all-important September issues sits unread in a corner of my room. A number of pre-Fall 2013 collections have already been shown. Some of the pieces that rest in my Spring/Summer 2013 bookmark folders have started to sneak their way into stores.
So I've decided to give it up. To skip the last three cities. And, most importantly, to not beat myself up about it. I spent most of my childhood and adolescence associating moving on or changing direction with failure. But life outside of school has taught me otherwise. And if forcing myself to write a few blog posts that not that many people read is going to make my hair start falling out, it’s not worth it. It's not failure. It’s simply honesty.
So I’ll read my magazines and start again with pre-Fall and not worry or stress about it like I do about so much else. About almost everything else. And I’ll tell you, like I do almost every year, what I’d like to wear on New Year’s Eve. Sure I’ll probably just closet dive and pick something long forgotten, but if I had my way, I would be wearing one of these two variations on a theme.
Either one would start me well on the road to temporarily forgetting that I have to work at 10 AM on New Year's Day.
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