what can i learn from the forest?

she is immense, and scarce, and full and scary and intriguing and inspiring and comforting — all in one. she is multiple things all at once. she is who she is. she is a haven for the animals, nesting, hunting, and seeking. she is a haven for us too: solitude, peace, and quiet from the city.

she is also a bit frightening. especially in the night — the darkness, spreading far and wide. is there someone watching? something hiding?

even if there is... she is safe, and strong, and powerful in her beauty. she engulfs us and at times we engulf her. there is a duality to our relationship. there is complexity. there is gratitude.

Bastrop, Texas

like a fairy...

as i walk along the ground barefoot, i dodge the beetles & the ants as they sprinkle the pathway back to my little home.

this may be a gross image but it felt like i was a fairy dancing through the garden of nature. the birds sing so loudly, the sun sparkles through the trees, the tall grass moves softly with the wind.

there is a whistle in the air — birds or wind?

fairy land. that’s what it is.

a full moon on a Monday

we had a rain storm come through & now the cool air brings piñon into the air. I feel happy and safe in my new studio - nestled in the hills. birds sing so loudly & Lolo the German Shepherd saunters around the property like a beautiful protector. my Tibetan prayer flags blow in the wind outside my kitchen window.

i feel really lucky to be here and it feels as though i was meant to be here all along.

grandmother wisdom

I remember standing in my grandmother’s kitchen. the house where she and my grandfather raised my mother and seven others - not to mention a plethora of grandchildren. Her Irish roots rejoice.

She noticed how my voice and hers are similar, gentle and soft - “It’s very sexy.”

When she told me then I did not feel sexy but now I do as I grow into a stronger woman.

I love to think of this now that my grandmother supports my sexiness - it is a natural part of me, of her, of a woman.

this is summer in Santa Fe

the best weekends are made up of…

warm sunshine, waking up late, a bright blue sky. listening to blues and music that makes you dance without agenda. coffee with a journal and some lazy magazine reads. sunning yourself on the open patio as you listen to the town walk below you. sips of tea. sips of vino. lying naked on your bed with open windows and doors…watching the pink sunset dance across the adobe while the green aspen leaves bustle in the wind.

figuring out who you are becoming … maybe feeling a little lonely. but content all the same.

Bird song.

I wake up every morning to the sound of birds chirping — near and far from my ears. I open my eyes from a dream and look out of the window sill behind my light blue silk pillows.

I see the bright blue sky or maybe today a grey blanket with some clouds. The adobe structures nestled within the Sangre de Christo mountains. Is this a movie set?

The bird song stays with me as I make my morning coffee.

Sleepy eyes and feet shuffle to and from the bed to kitchen, maybe they find soft Ritz slippers (gifted to me, I did not steal them, although when you do stay in an establishment so luxurious the thought does seem to cross your mind…)

The boiling water sirens throughout my studio “I am hot!”

I sit and sip. Waking my mind slowly to the day. The birds chirp and sing as if they are also doing the same for the slow waking town. there is so much joy in their sound. it gives me joy to listen.

My friend told me that bird song helps the flowers to grow. it is a proven study…the vibrations from their song give life to the new blooms — a sweet symphony that Spring is on the way.

the lion

Walking out from the comforting darkness of El Santuario de Chimayo. A place where miracles are granted. We feel happy and light from the sanctuary’s healing atmosphere. We have clarity from all of our worries.

Across from us, surrounded by red chile ristras is a sweet, tamale shop. Their sign boasts, the best chile in Santa Fe. We decide to go inside.

The lady in the tamale shop “that dog is always around, i don’t know who he belongs to.”

“is he friendly?”

“yes, very.”

The little lion follows us all the way to our car as if to say, don’t leave me.

We want to bring him with us but it feels wrong taking him away from Chimayo, his home.

as we drive away, another car pulls up and the passengers begin to get out and explore the sacred ground. the little lion casually saunters over to them… on to the next.

c.s. lewis’ the lion, the witch, and the wardrobe :

god is in everything

facing the mews

M’s birthday. we stay up all night dancing until 6 am. her handsome, young, french brother V is with us. i enjoy him so much. he reminds me of sam. intellectual and kind. the sun starts to come up - we look out the window, facing the mews, at the blue sky. time for bed.

everything & nothing.

a quiet thursday night. listening to music and reading fashion articles V, M, and i decide to go for a walk. a different thursday compared to the previous where we have met up with the boys at our neighborhood pub, the marylebone. quaint posh. drinking glamorous cockatils 2 for 1.

as we walk, we revel at our neighborhood. i walk them my route to work, past the sweet shops and yummy italian cafes. the chiltern firehouse is lit up with it’s glamorous ambiance. we want to go inside. we window shop with our eyes. M is hungry so we stop at our neighborhood pizza place. the warm Italian knows our faces by now. he offers us a sweet pizza to go. we are full but we take it.

nights like this make me love this city. i stroll up our street, sweet pizza wrapped in a napkin in my hand. M, a sweet, chatty brunette from the south of france, to my left, and V on my right, a shiny, blonde american/italian. we chat about everything and nothing. i feel happy and alive.

waking up.

Waking up in our flat in Marylebone. Jet lag haze. But a rejuvenating 10 hours helps. Also David Bowie’s music to get me moving. A legend has died. A local legend. London lit up last night for him. what an amazing art to leave to the world. Our flat is a little chilly, i put on my fur coat with my slippers and my cup of coffee. i dance from room to room. i feel very young and inspired right now. london does this to you. something about it.

going home for the holidays...

going home for the holidays. i’ve never felt this moment more. saying goodbye to new friends who’ve felt like a support system the past few months. R is the first to go, my beautiful new Swedish friend who i feel like will become a wonderful lifelong friend. i love how we’ve become each others support system. she is a few years older, but feels my age, except for times when she feels like a comforting big sister. it is so nice. i give her a hug in the hallway where our rooms connect, i tell her i love her, we look straight into each other’s eyes - it is so nice to feel comfortable enough to stare someone straight in the eyes and say this. what a genuine feeling.

J gave me a sweet comment tonight - i love his sweet comments - he is so considerate without realising. it rolls right off his tongue sometimes. someone says “short and sweet” in a passing conversation, “just like you” j says to me. it makes my heart sing. C also tells me at our Christmas “julfest/darty” that he will miss having “little sarah” around. the same nickname A and M call me. i like the consistency in my nicknames.

it is fun that we all are going home to our families all over the world. we are so lucky to have families to fly home too. we all complain about our busy work life and how excited we are to be home. the comfort of home. home for the holidays. now i understand the songs.

i feel excitement for the new year. M comes over to leave her suitcases from a year of life in london. we move into our marylebone flat january 5th. a block from the high street. i am so excited to embark on a new adventure with new friends. i can’t wait to learn from different cultures. i feel so grateful.

build people up.

i arrive home to laughter and ambiance in the flat. J and C sit around with two of C’s colleagues from vanity fair. i find out one is the art director. they talk of the editors and models they experience daily as a causal conversation. it is a little intimidating but wonderful and interesting. cool and collected M is with us also, i admire her for her coolness. she is a naturally, beautiful Swedish sweetie, in love with J.

the art director gives me a hug goodbye and calls me “miss infectious”, i notice that he gives M a compliment as well. i love how honest and genuine that is. he notices a specific characteristic about someone and feels the need to tell them, even after only just meeting for a few short hours. i’ll remember it forever and hope to do the same from now on. build people up. in any way you can.

our flat on Nassau St.

Our flat on Nassau St is just next door to the posh neighborhood, ours has a bit more edge. We have a good price for such a prime location. On our block, a quaint, cozy pub named The Green Man. I want to go inside. Enjoy a beer with a friend or a love. Next door, an art gallery, full of empty space but something is coming about. A pretty blonde sits at her laptop tapping away while a determined man constructs together an exhibit. Exciting.

I find our blue door, 17B, and step inside to J & V watching a silly British cooking show, winding down from busy days at work. The flat consists of our basic needs, not much else. I realize at this stage in our lives, material possessions don’t matter. The experiences do. I realize I want to experience a love. But the real kind. I’m not sure if he is here or inAmerica, but I do know that I don’t want to leave here anytime soon.

letting go.

letting go. it may be the most rewarding feeling there is. it sounds so negative and aloof, as if you don’t care about the world or people around you, but in truth it is very healing. our days are filled with judgement. we worry so much about what other people think. maybe that is why this is one of the most common topics we all write about.

it is becoming much more of a trend to say you are a free spirit and to say you do yoga and to say that you don’t care in a generation that cares so much. our generation is spirited. we feel the need to make something of ourselves. but we worry. we worry a lot about what others think. yoga has taught me how to let go. i am glad it is a trend. this movement should be trendy.

letting go of worry is probably the greatest gift you can give yourself. i mean, what are you really worrying about anyways? you are way more pre occupied with yourself than others are. did you ever think about that?

no one is really watching you as closely as you think. and if they are, they are admiring you. another great feeling is when someone catches you acting completely as yourself. your guard is down and you do something totally out of character (or technically it is your actual character) and more than likely that person is enamored with you in that moment. your true self is quite frankly your greatest self. we should feel this in every moment. it’s the only way to be.

a moment for me, sitting in Selfridges typing away at my laptop. without a care in the world i belt out a line from a song. Sitting next to me, W laughs - intrigued - memorized with my carefree moment.

the sunday after halloween

the sunday after halloween. wake up a little groggy but to a blue sky outside. i peep through the window sill of stacked books on interesting topics, im in C’s bed, as he came in late last night and drunkenly stumbled into mine. i didn't mind sleeping next to him, it was nice. but his alcohol self was dreaming quite loudly so i went up to his tiny room just up the stairs. i also worried what people may think. i hate how that matters. why can’t friends simply sleep side by side? we all just want to feel comfort.

i found out today over burgers that C is also a capricorn. which means our souls are connected. i also feel a closeness forming with J. which makes me happy. we had a good laugh as i tried to pull off my fake eyelashes this morning. as i struggled to peel away the falseness from my skin, J tells me i am just as pretty without them, a sweet genuine compliment from a boy watching a girl in a feminine moment. im enjoying living with these boys. i want to learn from them.

C’s invite to the lion king this afternoon was just the ticket to pull me out of a slight hungover sadness. briskly walking through Covent Garden, amongst the trendiness and theatre atmosphere. i spot C’s blonde head sitting outside the pub next to the Lyceum Theatre. his sweet french friend is with us. i love listening to them talk in french. i wish that i could join in on the conversation.

the lion king is wonderful. i remember some of the scenes from when i was a little girl. the stage feels much smaller now. i love the costumes and some of the high notes give me goosebumps. C and i step outside during intermission with two carlsberg’s. it is dusk around london. C notes how beautiful the light is. i like that he notices that. i also like that he describes the play as endearing.

First day.

First day at Selfridges, surrounded by people from all over the world. I eat lunch with an Asian fashion marketing student. She craves a career with a luxury brand. We share sushi from a rotating coveyerbelt in the heart of the most exciting and vibrant department store in the world. We wander through the endless floors afterwards, rejuvenated from the tuna in our bellies and the marvels of material and fabrics displayed around us. My new friend’s eyes sparkle as we wander through Louis Vuitton, then Prada, Christian Louboutin, Dior…

On my way home, I walk through the crisp streets of Marleybone. I daydream of the beautiful homes, imagining myself walking inside. Honey, I’m home. I pass a beautiful family of four, the mum in her Chanel flats and a furry coat. Two boys carrying their soccer balls, their tall father striding alongside. Sweet chic.

our tiny flat in the West End.

Our tiny flat in the West End. There are four of us, the charismatic Brit who works for Vanity Fair, the handsome Scott in real estate, and a Canadian/American femme; whom I would call a world citizen as her accent has become a mix of Italian, interviewing for a position at Chanel on the new moon. And then me, the British American, who never thought a career in fashion was it, but it just might be. The fashion industry holds so much creativity, innovation, and charisma. Who knew. Maybe there is a place for me to write in this industry. Or to create and experience my deepest ideas that I didn’t even know were there.