it can’t get better than this, i’m looking at the bright lights, we don’t know where we are but we are dancing on a star
what im wearing: primark sequin longline lace blouse, primark gold clutch & primark emerald green faux fur collar
Oh the night, it starts just before sunset. I’ll shove the wine in the freezer, turn up the music and slick on some eyeliner. When my hair is half done, the doorbell rings, my best friend will arrive and she will loiter, laugh and lean against my bathroom door as I agonize over my makeup and I’ll curse when I smear mascara all over my nose. She will assure me that I look amazing and my outfit is the perfect combination of provocative and classy. For the next hour, the doorbell will keep ringing as as my friends climb the stairs to my apartment, arriving breathless with tousled metro hair and the scent of perfume on their coats. Someone forgets to shut the door in excitement, so it stays open, swinging back and forth as people arrive. I might know them, I might not, but I don’t really care, because my house is warm and filled with happy people. The music gets louder, the wine is poured – we might mix it with some perrier or ice, which is so uncouth, but then again, so are we. Regardless of what we mix it with, the wine will swiftly run dry until a stranger who came with someone I met briefly at an event unearths a new bottle. There is laughter and we’ll all be leaning out the window, breathing in the promises of the streets and the city beyond. There will singing and dancing – people will be trying on my hats and sunglasses – selfies will be taken, we might invent some stupid hashtag that no one but us finds hilarious. Midnight strikes and everyone gravitates towards the front door, heels clacking down the stairs, laughter too loud, a neighbour will shout down with disapproval, so we shush and scurry out into the night. There might be a bar, or many bars or a series of house parties that burn on until the morning – we might stop to take in the city, or share plates of fries somewhere, there might be handsome men, there might not be, there might be taxis across town and back again – there could be nothing, or everything – but anything at all is fine with us because it’s the weekend and we have each other and the promise of a night together we will laugh about tomorrow.
9 Comments
Leave a Comment