My New York state of mind is emerging.
For months Michael and I have talked about planning a trip to the Big Apple. We talked about visiting record stores, Central Park, bakeries, museums and Brooklyn Banks. Our thoughts are consumed by taxi rides, subway systems, horse-drawn carriages and pounding the pavement until our ankles ache.
But I'm mostly obsessing over red lipstick.
I'm really a Chapstick kind of girl. On more formal occasions I will put on a layer of glittering lip gloss. But New York City is worth applying something thicker than Burt's Bees. At least I think so.
The city is alive. It has character and is envied the world-round. The people, the buildings, the streets, everything is glamorized in NYC. And I want to be, too. I want to strut on Fifth Avenue like it's my personal catwalk. I want heels, high fashion and rouge lips. I want flawless hair, perfect skin, sunglasses made by Coach or Guess. I want to own New York.
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It doesn't really matter what color the lipstick is. I realize that. The idea, the concept I hope to embrace, is that we can give ourselves permission to be whomever we want when we travel. If I want to walk the streets in coal-rimmed eyes and plump red lips, I can. If I want to travel without running a comb through my hair, I will.
And so for New York, I will be a "higher class" Sara. A sophisticate. Someone with confidence. For Boston it could change. For Florida, I might just be me.
i expect daily updates people, daily. and a wave from the air as you pass my house would be kind. thank you. that's all.
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