my life which seems so monotonous & simple is really a complicated affair of cafes where they like me & where they don’t, streets that are friendly, streets that aren’t, dresses that will be lucky, dresses that won’t and so on.
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what im wearing: boohoo pinafore dress, boohoo grey marl crop top,
boohoo black trench, boohoo circle clutch & boohoo patent bow loafers
Living in France & Spain over the years has taught me an important skill – the art of loafing. And as a girl with a worrying amount of anxiety buried in her bones, the sweet act of doing nothing was not a easy one to learn. But over the years, cafes across the cities I live in have become the picture frames that hold some of my richest memories. Little happenings here and there tied themselves together into the knots that have made me who I am today. Pulling out a chair at these places now can bring all kinds of nostalgia. These little cafe corners and the chairs I sat on and experienced things, anything and lots of things… from crying with a book covering my face, to laughing with my Mom on the phone over a too-bitter expresso, to pushing myself up swaying to the bathroom after too many glasses of rose wine. There are chairs were I’ve had some of my best ideas, tables that were too small for all the happiness I felt in sharing them with friends, chairs crammed in the back where I broke up with boys, seats that had me shifting uncomfortably under the eye of an interviewer for freelance work. And the colours of the cafes – the classic red that looks good when I’m wearing lipstick, the mustard yellow that only ever smiles in the sunshine, and this one here, a curious, almost easter-egg blue that always reminds me of springtime. And around this time every year, spring starts to wink and I’ll find myself running to the Champ de Mars for a picnic that lasts all day. A picnic that always ends here, at this cafe, where we will collapse for a coffee to confirm our enthusiastic al fresco dinner plans.This is very beautiful to me …how sporadic piles of chairs & tables are capable of holding so many of the moments I keep close. Here, there, everywhere and across two cities – always around a corner for me to revisit whenever I walk by, memories that keep me company on the streets, a nostalgia removed of remorse – comforting in that they are always there and there are always more to make. All I need is a heavy grab of change from my pocket for coffee; a new memory, a new picture frame, hung up for only me to see when I walk by again, a week after or 2 years later.
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