London Turning Point

Having just arrived back home to New York, I am feeling a bit relieved.  London was intense, and horrible, and wonderful, and maybe cathartic.......?  Originally planned in early December with the darling S, we were going to combine a class of mine with a business trip of his....entirely his idea...and I was on board.

He has his favorite funky hip Soho hotel near his London office.  I have my beloved Claridges.  It was going to be fantastic.  Peanut butter and chocolate good.  Then Hong Kong....

We were spending the last few hours of his time in NYC together when we realized our schedules were dovetailing perfectly, and he tossed the idea out there.   It was a cold Sunday afternoon on the Upper East Side in early December, and there was frost in the air.  I was planning Alice's birthday, he was talking business.  He looked so big and tall and handsome in that khaki coat and his maroon striped scarf, his dark hair flopping over his eye ever so rakishly.  The world was beautiful.  Life was divine, walking around in that warm rosy apricot colored cocoon of bliss.  We had been wandering aimlessly, like kids, laughing, interrupting each other, two hours of coffee and talk, sushi lunch, kissing over the table, and then back inside......looking into each others eyes for hours...just looking.....and quiet......

Quietly looking into each others eyes....

Wrapping that tendril around my fingers....

I thought I had found him...I thought he was the one....

He left the country..... he fell ill......thinking something got lost for us there....thinking that was the critical juncture...

So after the fateful New Years Eve, when we sat in the car and he told me I wasn't asking the right questions....that he hadn't checked out, but that he couldn't figure out the how and the why of us, I promptly went home and cancelled my trip, then rescheduled it the next week.  I figured staying home would cause me more pain and feelings of loss, and I am so glad I went.  Taking Alice at the very last minute was a great call, and we certainly had a different kind of trip than usual....There was a lot of sitting around in the Fumoir, drinking James Bonds, and stealing coasters, and tears on my part.  Miss Alice really did a great job of propping me up, despite the ups and downs of my feelings.  It was just killing me however, knowing he was a short walk away.

The how and the why of us?  What does that even mean?  pffft!

I usually know this stuff...why not now?

So I decamped to Mayfair, and let the Art Deco glory of my environment envelope me.  It's good I went.  My light had gone out.  I even looked different.  Alice saw it too.  I took my class.  My art improved.  My thoughts adjusted.

There were sleepless nights, and manic mornings, tipsy evenings closing down the Fumoir, and hot baths in those giant marble tubs, mini bar raids in the middle of the night, and even one pathetic cab ride past his hotel.....yep, I'll own that....but in the end, I think it was ok to allow myself the wallowing and the theatrics.  I wanted to be allowed to be as mad and sad and messed up as I really felt....the match for the intensity of my feelings for him when I was happy....how could I not?  I packed my favorite clothes.  A green velvet blazer, little black dresses, floppy felt hats, four pairs of boots, and my giant cocktail rings.  I dressed to the nines every day, and doused myself in my Krigler Lovely Patchouli perfume.  I wore red lace lingerie...yep I did.....and black satin....

Wearing my tissue thin Etro chiffon dresses like gossamer fairy wings, rose gold wire hoops and bell bottom pants, I was with the band....no, hell!  I was the band....dirty hair, and puffy eyes and all....

Life is not a dress rehearsal.

If I was going to hurt, I chose to hurt in style.  I don't want to remember this tough period in my life as drab, or ordinary.  I will remember it as the most flamboyantly beautiful pain I have ever experienced, complete with fur collars, high heels, and plenty of transatlantic flirting.  Its easy to do if your heart is crazy homesick.  Its necessary, actually.

So at a certain point, I think my emotions started shifting.  I started to feel the pain detach....just the slightest bit.  The tears turned to rants, and the rants became weak.  Indifference kicked in by the time I touched down at JFK.  Thought I was cured, but I did cry just a little again this morning.  I miss those beautiful eyes.  I miss my morning text, waking with a love song to listen to on Youtube.  Sister golden hair.  You're nobody till somebody loves you.  Nothing says love like a little Deano in the morning.....

But it is passing.  It is.

My phone is ringing again though, and its not him, and I think I like it.....

Matching Pj's

Dior shoes and McQueen scarves.

Miss Alice's last minute packing.  A rare departure for the nerd who usually wraps her clothes in scented tissue paper.