There is a big-band/jazz night every Tuesday but its attendees are all quite old and semi-frail (not too frail as not to absolutely school me on any dance floor.)
Last night was Met Monday. The Met Ball. The Gala. Fashion event of the year and so forth.
And, per usual, there was a theme—”Heavenly Bodies: Fashion and the Catholic Imagination” —and that theme was interpreted loosely, literally, and liberally.
In the eighth grade I approached one of my favorite English teachers and asked if I could write a new and unknown word on the board in her classroom every day.
I am happiest in the midst of a few projects, especially if they are things I’ve never undertaken before.
The Picture of Dorian Gray. The only novel by Oscar Wilde and the novel that convicted him.
I said I wanted to be in school till I am 85. My friend asked me if I wanted to be in school or learn till I am 85.
What’s more radical or more progressive? Rejecting the New Year’s resolution or unabashedly embracing it? The black and white of the choice is probably what makes the question unanswerable. I opt for bits of myself that I want to tinker and things that I’d like to make space for.
Despite the evidence to the contrary on this blog, I have indeed been reading. Much more than usual, actually. Such are the luxuries of adult life.
Perhaps you’re in search of a new purse, some new shoes, a belt, a briefcase—whatever strikes you as an investment. You know leather is a good material, one that lasts. You go off into a store blindly and look solely for the buzzword “leather”.
Is it a day for sporting fabulous black turtlenecks? No?
Well it should be. There should be a day for that.