the year’s end tradition
A post I created on a weird whim 5 years ago has since become a tradition here. I’ve always inexplicably dreamed of attending a masquerade ball. Long ago I learnt of the German word, maskenfreiheit – which is the freedom conferred by masks, it has fascinated me ever since. An invite has not yet arrived for me to experience true maskenfreiheit, so every year I create my own. Faithfully donning an unusual mask, roping my photo assistant into a late night shoot, plying her with champagne and loud music as fuel past midnight. This one feels especially bittersweet, 2017 was a magical year for me. I will be sad to see it go. Typically at this time of year, reels of motivational quotes and long winded resolutions appear in suffocating streams all over the internet. I’d rather not veer that way this post. I don’t much believe in resolutions, we are all constant works in progress ; resolutions so often feel like an aggressive analysis of our shortcomings from the year past. They usually involve the gym or saving money or drinking less. To hell with that. You’re alive, isn’t that enough of a resolution for everyday of every damn year we make it through? Let’s forget the lists of ways we could be better people and remember that we are still here on earth as living, breathing people. That is what I will be cheering to when the clock strikes. We all mess up and my life will always be more messy than organized. I have learnt to celebrate the sheer unpredictability that tilts and shifts my life as forever precarious. To stumble is to live. I can only hope to stumble and stumble and stumble, again and again. Looking back on this year, I quietly believe the chaos and the people who weaved in and out of these 365 days were set in my path for the book I know I was supposed to write. It sounds insane, I know, I realize and I’m sure many of you might be rolling your eyes, but all that happened, and all that didn’t happen, which often is as important as what did is fuel for the words I have been in one way or another, preparing my whole life to write. I’ve spent many a moment staring into space, at my office wall or outside on my balcony thinking this through and perhaps over time, convincing myself of what now feels like a solid fact. This year and the end of the disaster that was 2016, are material in one way or another for my writing. Perhaps I’m deluded and give the universe more credit than deserved, but if questionable beliefs get me to finally write all I want to say, then so be it. Let them fuel me, foolishly. So, that I suppose is what I’d like to promise, a book; an anthology of short stories, because I’m too sporadic for anything longer. All my other professional goals will still take priority and yet, nothing feels as soulful as this book in 2018. Finally, I’d like to wish you all a Happy New Year, to have you here listening, reading and not just watching or shopping is certainly the biggest fuel of all. I am so grateful. And without further ado, here are my masquerade shots for 2017, which definitely took a weirder turn on an even weirder tradition. I took to the streets in nothing but lingerie and a blazer, wore the most beautiful mask of them all, complete, ofcourse with disco glitter eyes.
what i’m wearing: primark pearl button blazer, primark black lingerie set,
primark black heels & heather mcdowall keri mesh headpiece
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