Girl Chat, yearning for a life i'm too afraid to build

this site is where i landed last night, a couple glasses of wine in, bathed and lotioned with no one for company but my cats and a tingling fluttering in my tummy. i am so excited to shop

i’ve been dipping my toe in and out of social media for weeks. every now and then some lithe, willowy bambi graces my screen. she holds my gaze, slight tilt of the head; she’s styled in some perfectly structured top or dress in a fabric i can already feel on my own skin. she’s so effortless: i want to be just like her, no, i want to be her

and damn if my algorithm doesn’t know me, because deiji studios specifically has been a mainstay on my rotation of ad and thus mind-space for a long, long time. rent-free, as they say. it’s the light cottons and french linens, ‘effortless’ styling - ‘effortless’ is the key word for me - these are clothes made for warmer weather, maybe for some great beauty who lives by the sea.

who i want to be, basically.

they’re clothes that would be good for about 3 months in london before i’d have to pack them up in exchange for wools and thermals, but the story i’m telling myself about who i could be and the life i could have in them, well, that’s a book i can’t put down

even their product names: ‘ease trouser’ in ‘sea strip’, ‘sky stripe’ - lord, get me tf out of here and into your water and earth, please.

deiji knows who their girl is, they know what they’re doing, and they are good because i am in full yearn

i sober up a little when i see that a cotton tank will set me back £110. okay . …

5 months after quitting cold turkey, my bank told me i was spending way less than i normally do. a couple weeks back and i’m seriously about to blow £111 on this little ass skirt belt, oh my god, i am in agony - i want it so bad though :’)

i havent bought anything yet, because not being so consumed by aspirational capitalism unintentionally made me so much more conscious with money, but it’s a slippery slope… i’m still learning how to rebalance my relationship with it all. this is a good start though

i drift over to a different platform for aspiration, The Modern House’s architectural journal, and pore over sun-soaked farmhouses nestled amongst rolling hills and sprawling greenery. this is the kind of house i’d wear my lil deiji studios tank and skirt belt in hahaha

it’s all so beautiful, and the fluttering, sparkly excitement that i started this evening with is quickly devolving into a sludge of self pity. my body is starting to feel heavy and face starting to numb, i feel i’ve made all the wrong choices for myself, i should be amongst the trees, floating in organic cottons, somewhere else, anywhere else, -

the couple glasses of wine is a bottle and a half now and okay, my thoughts aren’t exactly to be trusted at this stage, but i end the night wondering if i’ll ever have the guts to just go out and do it.

i envy the girls my age or younger who are.

i’m nearly 30 now and that’s pretty adult. i used to tell myself i was too young for this or that, and, well, that song just isn’t so cute anymore. my sister says that her 30s are the best years of her life yet, she is sure footed now and knows where she is headed; i’m part assured but mostly scared.

because i still don’t really have a clue, or even an inkling of a clue. if i get to 30 and i’m still this afraid, what on earth am i going to do?

At 25, you don’t realize what a little kid you are (for any 25 year olds reading this, no matter how much you’ve done or seen, I’m sorry to inform you that you are still very young!) I felt, for all intents and purposes, like I knew my way around- but I was a fawn, shaky on my legs, uncertain on the icy forest floor. The feedback that came at me- at least the feedback I could hear- was about all the ways that young body was unacceptable.

On the one hand, it was a nightmare because it confirmed everything I thought I knew, affirmed all the 7th grade ghosts living in my head. But it also forced me to accept, swiftly and gratefully, the ways in which to live in a body is to dance constantly with our collective fear and disgust at fallibility, mortality and imperfection. There is almost nothing that scares us more than the truth of what our bodies are, and that- even with all these modern tools- their fate is so often out of our control.

Lena Dunham