This morning I was in Barcelona and as I write this I am back in Paris. The weekend that just passed; it was soft like a smudge in that it erased away and before I could blink it was Sunday dusk and I had to pack a suitcase for the hotel room I am currently sitting in right now. There are clothes everywhere here, and with it, comforting things like suede and white dappled wool. Heels that hurt all day because it hailed yet despite the cold, I’m happy to be here. Happy to see friends and happy to sit in a pile of clothes in a tiny hotel room – because these next few days require a tight schedule and the same old fusion of stress and determination I always feel during fashion week. And there isn’t much time for much else. But mostly, I’m happy because that smudge of a weekend left a spiral of emotions I still don’t know how to deal with, but as the plane took off I left the whirl behind for the work I have to do here. You all know, I am in love; I am in love in a way I’ve never been before and with it comes new ways of crying, new waves of crazy and new ways of failing and trying. But I’m okay, just relieved to be back in this too cold city I once called home, I’m missing Barcelona but when I say that, really, I mean my boyfriend. But I needed to stop feeling the feelings for just a few days – and let me tell you, there is nothing like the freezing cold and 18 shoots to complete in 2 days to mute the heart and kickstart the brain. And there are surely sunnier days in comforting things like suede in Spain to come but for now it’s my once before Paris, the faithfully cold Paris and a million photos to shoot which I promise to share with you very soon.