Satirical Roleplay
All The People We Get To Be This Fall
This is satire and to be read with a sense of humor. None of these characters are real, rather just figments of my imagination based on people I know, people I used to know and probably a few different versions of myself (both past and present).
‘I want to burn everything and start over’, she screams- flipping between the reality of her closet and the reverie of her SSense cart. The calendar says ‘pumpkin spice’, but no matter how many ions of cool the stools at Time Again Bar catapult one's street-cred, the reality is it’s 76 degrees and you look ridiculous in shearling. ‘Carolyn Bessette Kennedy Weather’ her coworker christened this time of year, while chugging a matcha decked out in an Ophelia dupe and flip flops.
She’s thrilled the curtain has finally closed on the expectation of having ‘the best summer of your life’, but the fact there’s only three months left of 2024 is terrifying. October is for leather jackets, and long walks on the East River, guessing the name of every Cavapoo that passes you by. The second the clock hits November 1st the whole city can’t believe fall is slipping through our fingers, drunk off of the autumnal bliss of being alive in a time where the season still change. And then, BOOM! Hello December! A miscellanea of weeks quantified by champagne, family drama and sequins from Zara.
But today she is just a girl, standing before a closet, asking ‘what the fuck do I wear??!?’. Stripes? Suede? Sambas? Boring! Why not try on as many lives as possible while the weather still permits? Here’s a few…
Mayor Of Madison Avenue
A strict diet of Butterfield Market frozen yogurt and the idea that nothing is what it seems, have fueled her adventures on the Upper East side for the past 7+ decades.
Running Out Of Pages In Her Passport
Always somewhere and thinks jet lag is a conspiracy theory. She bought her Italian Greyhound with miles. He's a service dog, relax.
Resident Of The Cotswolds
Spends two months out of the year hunting pheasants and the rest of the time chasing the highest version of herself.
Booked and Busy
Hundreds of unread text messages and more calendar invites than hours in the day, but somehow she always has time for a two hour lunch at Sant Ambroeus.
The Guru
Swears by The Three B’s: Breathwork, Botox and Birth Times. She’s got a mantra for everything, repeat after me: Life is an uphill battle…get in or get out.
the way I need those Max Mara pants