Sweats for Christmas, but make it fashion.
Merry Christmas Eve!
I’m writing this in bed from my “childhood” home, a setting (and notion) that would garner instant sentimentality points if it weren’t so misleading. I am very much so spending Christmas at my parent’s house, but the truth is, it’s only been two years since I moved out… a six-minute drive away.
I haven’t earned the right to pull the card of romanticized childhood just yet.
Still, few things are more idyllic than returning to the house you grew up in. I haven’t ventured far but I can’t help but feel like a stranger in what was once my room: most of my things are gone and I’m unpacking my overnight bag as if I were staying at a hotel—gingerly placing toiletries or clothes in the gaping spaces where my most beloved stuff once were, but no longer are—while familiarizing myself with the lavender walls once more. The bedspread is mismatched (borrowed from the guest bedroom to accommodate my one-night stay) but the moment I crawl into bed, there’s an undeniable return of warmth and déjà vu. For years I sat in this exact spot—both strategic and comfortable in setup—to stalk Style.com (RIP) or sign onto La Couturier in the middle of the night once my parents were asleep.
Much has changed since, but the feeling remains the same. In an age where social media controls content and algorithms motivate creation, blogs—however ancient or has-been—are a breath of fresh air. (True, SEO etc. matters, but just the idea of owning a personal space sans noise is Shangri-La.) Will personal websites make a comeback, or do I just sound like a grandparent resistant to technological change? A Christmas Eve thought to mull on while dinner settles.
‘Tis the season, after all, for reminiscing on past; contemplating present; looking towards the future. (I’ve clearly watched one too many Lifetime Christmas movies, a guilty pleasure.)
. . .