Once upon a time, I expected I’d only be back here in Los Angeles on annual visits to family and friends. I thought when I went off to college in New York, I’d stay there, get married and have babies with whom I’d spend my days at the Penguin House or Temple of Dendur. (The places I loved as a little girl.) I would write for The New Yorker, join the NY film community and maybe even a literary club, like the one my great aunt belonged to. That was the future as I predicted. It was so simple before it got complicated.
As life tends to do.
The thing that excited me most about living back east were the seasons. Specifically winter. I’d felt the icy cold of London in January, the high altitude frost of Aspen in March and there was often New York, but these were places visited. I’d never truly lived through a season. I wanted the holidays to be festive and freezing. I wanted a winter wonderland instead of sunset at the beach – because you could have sunset at the beach year-round here. It held no novelty. No drama. Dr. Zhivago or Jane Eyre had no romance without the depths of winter. California dreaming on a winter’s day sounded fine and well, if only I had a winter’s day to dream of escaping.
Life brought me back to LA, and yet the road not taken, as Frost reminds us if we read the poem correctly, hasn’t made all the difference. With or without snowflakes, I try to live life to the fullest and see where it takes me. There are ups and downs no matter the temperate zone of the road you end up on. Though I wouldn’t mind a snow flurry here or there.
Today is November 1st. It’s barely fall-ish outside, but I’m finally beginning to feel the seasons change because this arrived in my inbox all shiny and new:
Aside from reminding me that the holidays and jeans-riding-boot-cowl-neck-cashmere-sweater weather are on their way, this e-magazine, THE HOLIDAY GUIDE by EMILY HENDERSON, includes a piece I wrote that is dear to my heart. The styling secrets of Emily Henderson and the talents involved in this project are fantastic. I’m honored to be included amongst them. There’s much to inspire and create – and about a hundred things I’d like to give and receive.
Writing about the holidays gave me time to reflect on the sort of experiences I could only have had here. Only with my cherished LA family and friends. Only living this very life. I share only one holiday story in the issue, but in writing it so many came to mind. From the ridiculous to the fabulous to the fabulously ridiculous. All generally taking place on 68 degrees days in December. Sometimes with a guest appearance by Richard Simmons. Only in LA.
So please, enjoy THE HOLIDAY GUIDE. There’s shopping and DIY-ing, design and fashion and, on page 216, a girl who writes about a grandmother who felt that every day should be Christmas. A grandmother I miss very much. xo a.