the other day i realized that for my next birthday in just two months, i am turning 31.
i felt turning thirty had a special lure to it, and by doing it with grace & style (no ‘oh-my-god-i’m-old’ breakdown; dinner at the delauney) i was persuaded i’d overcome the toughest part of ‘not being young anymore’.
well, when i told my mom this – and when i followed it by a very smug ‘you see, i believe in getting older gracefully’ – she immediately answered back: ‘you’re turning 30 dear, of course its wonderful. wait till you turn 60. it won’t feel so great then.’
as it turns out, the novelty effect of being a respectable age/adult has arrived much faster – in my case at 31. and the side effects have kicked in stronger than ever. the mere mention of a ‘post-dinner night cap’ – or worst, a nightclub – sends shivers up my spine. if i’m still out by 10h30, i’m probably fantasizing about my pyjamas, and hating every additional minute i spend in the restaurant/bar i’m stuck in.
but every now and again, its important to embrace my long lost youth. because, lets face it, i can still bust out a move or two.
via fiesolana 25r
via de’ macci 8/r
(of course, you could argue that i have only been out dancing twice in florence since september, that this recommendation is based on very little data. but tough.)