1. I’m writing this from my parent’s home (the wood of the dining table is a dead giveaway of how aesthetics have shifted between generations) and no matter how old I get, I always resume the role of Child the moment I see them. My dad picked me up from the airport with a takeout container of dinner for the drive back from Newark Airport (as he always does), reminding me to chew the savory sticky rice slowly as if I was still five, impatient, starved. (I’m still the last two, though.) Also freshly prepared was homemade soy milk in a thermos—still steaming hot—to help wash the meal down and soothe my post-flight tummy.
I’m the luckiest girl in the world. Everything I have now is because of my parents’ love and sacrifices.
2. This year I decided that on the first of every month, I would read an entry out of Anaïs Nin’s diary. Our lives are nearly a century apart, and yet—I can’t help but find (or want, hope, to find) similarities between the lines. Her epiphanies are shared, her aphoristic realizations also in tandem with mine. I know; I’m projecting. But isn’t that the magic of books? I love diary writing, so.
3. Don’t sleep on the Beachwaver. Every time I turned my camera on for a meeting this week, I was asked how I did my hair (it was with this baby). Practice helps, but tools are the trick of the trade.
4. All I want to wear is Mirror Palais (Collection III is exquisite) and The Line by K (not surprising because I’ve been talking about the brand for years; I think I own 75% of the brand’s pieces and recently splurged on the spring drop).
5. This is an old piece from the New Yorker, but I’ve been thinking about it again recently.
. . .
xx
Your turn. Thoughts?