There’s an idea that’s been keeping me busy for a while,
and that is the worry of pleasing people
– those who comb their hair in the morning and pair socks before putting them in the drawer and build expectations instead of spending the waiting time playing games under the covers.
But there are moments when I realize how arranging plans and thoughts takes too long,
how many things are passing by and I don’t see them because too worried to tie my shoes and keep my back straight, blush when given a compliment and cross my legs under the table.
But I’m seeing how taking those tiny freedoms of being who I am and who i want to be are more important than making a good impression with people I don’t mind.
And little does it matter if these freedoms are as small as wearing sneakers,
last minute trips,
letting some swear words slip out of my mouth or going with the flow of fantasies that are not talked at fancy aperitifs on rooftops.
So I went to Paris.
Not because I needed to,
but because I felt like it was time to cut the rope for a while.
As simple as that.
And 72 hours in a city my feet have already wandered through may sound trivial,
and sunsets undressing a silhouette of roofs may be found anywhere else,
but there’s something liberating in indulging in spontaneous trips,
late night conversations and slow mornings of coffee and art.
The best gift you can give yourself is to trust your guts,
and spontaneity may not sound as pretty as you see it while letting it lead the dance,
but there’s nothing better than the aftertaste of something unplanned.
So go on,
bite your nails,
shake your head and quit the idea that because it’s not a standard then it’s wrong.
There are no schemes.
Just be brave enough to follow what your guts tell you.
And if the aftermath doesn’t turn out to be good,
you can worry about it then.
- Colette // All things nice, 213 Rue Saint Honoré
- Eugène Eugène // Brunch, 38-40 Rue Eugène Eichenberger
- Fondation Louis Vuitton // 8 Avenue du Mahatma Gandhi