"You can blame me for who I am." - Miley Cyrus

Photo credit Jean Renard

Counting breaths, counting threads, raising a glass to something you won't remember tomorrow. Raising your hand to the taxi cabs with lights that beam brighter than the sun has shown in days. Having legs that allegedly run a mile without even moving. Black jeans, black heels, black coffee. It's good to be in the city.

Barneys New York blazer, La Perla lace bra, Topshop jeans, Vintage gold collar

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"He felt that his whole life was some kind of dream and he sometimes wondered whose it was and whether they were enjoying it." - Douglas Adams

Back against the wall, and the only thing breaking through the stiff haze of smoke is the pulsating electronic beat. It's night. Or is it morning? We've yet to see the sunrise in the puddled crevices of the cobblestone street, but we've been in the city for nearly 18 hours. It's 3:00 AM and almost as quickly as the last glass goes down, it's 5:00, then 7:00. Soon enough, we have no choice but to assume our positions, espresso in hand and dragging our way through conversation at Le Café Riche. These were the only moments when we refused a filter.

Club Monaco shirt

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En Route

"Happiness, that grand mistress of the ceremonies in the dance of life, impels us through all its mazes and meanderings, but leads none of us by the same route." - Charles Caleb Colton

"Nothing good happens after midnight, nice girls don't stay out passed two." But we can still play with the context of these claims, because as I've come to realize, the best thoughts wait until night. The darkness provides such lucid clarity. As you wait patiently against the window for the snow to melt, capturing any at all warmth from the lights of the city buildings, a cascade of energy that shimmies down the skin. You anticipate the sun, knowing this artificial enjoyment is the best possible option until Friday. Saturday. 24 hours in between taking off and landing six timezones away. Spring break. All that energy collected by the stones and pent up by the soles of the shoes, finally given the chance to experience an authentic sun. Real warmth. No shoe I'd rather wear in France.

Fibi & Clo Sun Cascade

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"We've become a race of Peeping Toms." - Rear Window, 1954

"Wow. If I had this view, I'd distract myself for hours." In the morning, you can hardly see the street beneath the dense line of black wool coats, marching to an indistinguishable fashion of Burberry and Louis Vuitton. From the 12th floor, it's like a sort of fantasy Rear Window. The kind of view you share a cup of coffee with. The kind you can feel safe while wearing nothing but Versace's lacy tease of a sweater. It's the only place accepting of this kind of transparency. A few blocks away, you can see a wall of graffiti standing against an otherwise rusty urban grid. There's a tube of rouge without any lips, a pair of glasses without any eyes. I know there's more to see, but the rest are mere fragments of things uninteresting to me, so I don't focus on them. Selective exposure. Every now and then, I wonder whether people can see me in my room. Oddly enough, it doesn't disconcert me. I guess, even if they are, I just assume no one's judgment.

Versace sweater (Thakoon Addition similar)

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"It takes one person to forgive, it takes two people to be reunited." - Lewis B. Smedes

Reunions. Whether the time can be measured in days, months, or years, to me, they always feel like looking back at old photographs. Nostalgia is a word far too sentimental for my liking--I prefer the present construction of relationships. Because of that, reunions put me on edge, disturbing my ability to live in the moment by filtering through the glossy memories of times unchallenged in their perfection. ("If you frown for too long, you're face will get stuck that way.") Similarly, if I think too hard on times gone by, I'm afraid I won't move forward.

It could have been as easy as getting a cup of coffee with a friend before returning to school. A friend I hadn't seen since summer, the golden hours spent wading in our own personal sunset as we watched the warm colors of the sky blend into ripples of the pool. But, apparently that proved more difficult. Instead, it was as easy as an unmistakably (less than regretful) text. A cancellation--no, another cancellation. To most, feeling upset would be the initial instinct. In perfect honesty, all it did was settle the satisfying realization that bygones have no place in the present. And with that, moving forward was as easy as catching the next ride to New York City with Diane von Furstenberg in hand.

Shop my look at Pradux!

Topshop coat (Nasty Gal similar), ASOS tank (River Island similar), Zara sweater, RED Valentino slacks, Boutique 9 pumps (Jimmy Choo similar)

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