I can’t remember why I took these pictures, but I was reading an old issue of Lucky magazine and cover girl Zooey Deschanel said something that reminded me of, well, me.
“There’s this picture of me that I wish I could find,” she said. “I would buy these fluffy ‘50s prom dresses from the thrift stores and just put them on with a tiara and sit and type at my computer.”
I met with my Girls Write Now mentee on Sunday.
She has a Scholastic essay competition that we’re getting ready for. We decided to combine two of our first prompts together to create a short story.
When we were paired together at the start of the school year, I had already unemployed for a month. I wondered what I could add to her life. I know that I don’t need a title somewhere to be able to but I wanted to be good at something for her. I hoped she would still be able to learn from me.
Saturday will make it exactly three months since I was laid off.
I’m not saying it for pity or sympathy. I’m okay. Really, I promise.
In this really weird way, I’ve become whom I wanted to be when I first moved to New York City. I was working with a life coach in the beginning of the year. Our last session together, coincidently, was the night before my last day in office at my first official job as a writer.
‘Why Don’t You’ is my weekly tribute to legendary editor Diana Vreeland who penned a column of the same name for Harper’s Bazaar for 26 years begging, “Don’t just be your ordinary dull self. Why don’t you be ingenious and make yourself into something else?”
Some people just make me so sick. Their their skin never breaks out. Their outfits are always styled impeccably so without giving the appearance of trying too hard. Lipstick always on, nails never chipped.
You know those girls. Just ugh with their perfection.
Olilvia Palermo is one of those people for me. I read Net-A-Porter’s The Edit’s cover story featuring her hungrily, hoping that maybe a little bit of what she has, will rub off on me.
The other day I got to thinking—oh, hai Carrie Bradshaw, is that you?
I always say that our appearances give off little clues to our inner workings, but do they really? I’ll use myself for an example.
I’m in a transformative state. I can see that now. 27 has been a year of many firsts while solidifying things I’ve know deep down for some time now. On the outside, while I figure everything out, means wearing lots of black.