25 years ago I was 12. Innocent, shy, reclusive. I mostly read, and mostly sci-fi, jackie collins, and other escapist books. I survived junior cotillion, a bizarre form of torture where pre-teen boys are forced to dance with girls. As a girl, I certainly wanted to dance, but not with a bunch of short, sweaty-palmed kids who held me like I was some kind of leper. So I gave up on the whole debutante schtick.
20 years ago I was 17. I had a lot of friends, and went out clubbing every weekend. A few years of extremely fun and crazy living came to a crashing halt and I almost got disowned. So I got my shit together and got back on track.
15 years ago I was 22. In fashion school in Paris, finally coming out of my shell, learning assertiveness. How it happened was that tips are included. So if the waiter sucks, you have to tell them. Which is much easier in a foreign language, as it doesn’t feel so real. This became even easier once I moved to NYC and discovered an entire city of people who don’t hold back.
10 years ago I was 27. I was worried that I’d never get married, and desperately wanted to be married by 28, as my mom was. Now- I could give a rat’s ass. Except that it’d be nice to know someone would be around for the long haul. Problem is finding someone I actually want to be around that long….
5 years ago I was 32. I had just bought my condo in LA and was very happy to be back there. I was trying to figure out what to do with my life, as I didn’t want to keep working as a patternmaker. I read “A People’s History of the United States” which developed into a real concern for social justice.
This year I sold my condo in LA, got into b-school and moved to North Carolina to get my MBA in sustainable enterprise, which is really exciting and wonderful. I miss LA. I miss NY. But now I’ve got a much more interesting future.