I quit my job at the end of July. I moved to Paris ten days ago. I’m pursuing a masters degree centred around the business of fashion. I feel like I’m in an uneasy truce, both with myself and with this city. So far, I like Paris a lot. I wonder if it will like me back.
Back in the Before Times, a great source of enjoyment was travelling to a new city and exploring its streets in pursuit of the delicious. But the thing that I’ve maintained, as a salve to my own restlessness, is that vacationing is a state of mind, baby! Life is a vacation if you avoid all responsibilities and spend money frivolously and don’t worry about other people’s well-being!
I’m always tired. Being a leech on society is hard work. But after those first few sips of coffee hit the bloodstream, I’m revved up and ready to go. At once, it’s like I’m cruising down Rainbow Road, glittery with star power as the greatest soundtrack of all time propels me forward.
I was once a wide-eyed kid, certain of my future as a billionaire with six Egyptian cats, four mistresses, and a pack of rotweilers. But I am older now, and I see that I will not be a billionaire, I hate animals, and the amount of mistresses I will have is still to be determined. Unfortunately, I am still just as clueless about what I want to do with my life as when I was seventeen. The only difference is that I am finally at the age where I can see my actual potential.
