This weekend was full of top hats and pistols, of flash bulbs and long stemmed cigarette holders, of pumpkin carving and of mini-road trip adventures, of late night stories and sipping white berry tea at 2am and then winding up in a gutter of a diner scheming plans, of saying farewell to a beautiful bride named Cha Cha decked out in leopard and saying farewell to CBGBs, and of shimmying to the old jazz horns of Harlem Nocturne for my first burlesque performance in NYC in three months.
A weekend of trading glitter and false eyelash tips all ten of us girls twisting towards the smoky mirrors backstage applying lipstick, of re-creations of a 1940s horror poster for a still photo for inspiration for an artist, friend and birthday boy named Max, of delicious homemade apple pie and fresh apple cider, of the crisp Fall air and vintage 50s leopard underthings. Of delicious inked contracts with stars by the signatures for hopes and dreams to come true, of giddyness and of handmade halloween mummies with hearts on keychains given to a beautiful girl with pink hair. Of late talks with a muse who wears dice on her wrists and is unafraid to be true to herself. Of love, love with goosebumps and love of being alive, being witness to all these beautiful things and the wonderful people that fill my life with such happiness and inspiration and wonder. Of faraway friends that can make my day with an email or a message on my phone, of friends that I can hold onto so tightly it’s as if we are the same being. Of a boy with spiked hair and a ruby ring that matches mine. And our stories weave together. All of us. Thankful. I adore.
This weekend my eyes were wide open. This weekend I lived with abandon and beauty.
I wrap my arms around this city and swoon.