When you turn 29 (or rather, when I turned 29, yesterday) a lot of people do this thing where they tell you how great your 30s are going to be. Which is fine, and reassuring I suppose, but I sort of don't really care? I mean I do care, sometimes I am stopped and frozen with absolute fear at being in my late 20s and still being pretty unsure about so many things (various articles and think-pieces and quotations from lots of authors spread are applied to the corners of the internet where I lurk in a soothing salve of you are not alones and this is what you're supposed to feel likes), but like the weather there isn't anything to be done about it (and, like the weather, I still talk about it all the time anyway).
Birthdays are tricky. They stress me out. I love making a fuss about everyone else's, and truthfully the last two birthdays of mine have been absolute winners in pretty much every way. There's just pressure, you know? "Enjoy your day!" or "Have THE BEST birthday!" and I don't know, that sounds ungrateful you know? I don't mean that, just in the end I went happily to work, and it rained a lot so I didn't have to water the plants, mom made pasta and I brought home a cake from work and shared it with some stellar friends. I dressed up for two hours and then threw on my ubiquitous denim shorts and striped shirt for most of the evening. I did enjoy my day, once I let go of the internal pressure to make it something out of the ordinary so it seemed silly to go somewhere besides just around the corner to snap a few outfit shots.
Dress: J. Crew (current season), Shoes: J. Crew summer 2012, Clutch: J. Crew (I don't know when but a few years ago), Starlette Crown: Giant Dwarf
Getting dressed up and going to Target is a pastime I've been enjoying since high school, when my best friend and I did just that, and were luckily interviewed in the parking lot about summer weather (it didn't actually end up on the news).
This time I went to pick up a movie, only to realize it's not actually out yet.
I'm pretty bad at walking in these shoes. I've been giving myself a break lately, in heels but of a practical height, and in these my ankles feel like they're made of tums. Every year I'm obsessed with having a birthday dress, even though it doesn't usually make it the whole way, and somehow the blue seemed necessary (bright blues and dusty pinks are all in my mind these days when it comes to just about everything). None of it is vintage, which I always feel a little bit guilty about, but then when you work in a place that sells clothing it infiltrates your wardrobe and sometimes head-to-toe one brand just happens. I'm 29, I'm learning to let go of caring about that kind of thing, sort of.
I'm also trying not to care about things like what my under-eyes are doing, but if anyone has a recommendation for concealers that don't dry out and settle and flake, I am all ears and eyes and wallet (my kingdom for a full night's sleep).
At the end of the day though, I'm pretty happy to do anything (or nothing) in my little star crown, a funny dress, eating nice food with cool people and a little bit wistfully entering my last year as a twenty-something--a phrase I've always been fond of, for unknown reasons.
Thanks to David for taking my pictures!