In my imaginary life, I have scads of friends with amazing personalities and inimitable style. As a side note I think that’s what Taylor Swift is going for in her real life but somehow all her friends seem eerily alike. How they frighten me. In my real life, there is only one such friend and she is more than enough. She is my muse and in my dreams, my alter ego.
Today she fluttered into the cafe with eyelashes and stilettos perfectly intact and I knew everything would be just fine. My life really isn’t falling apart, it’s just fighting a nasty current. I know that now. I needed my friend, my port in the storm, my tonic. I curse the day she moved miles away but today I was rewarded for my suffering. I may have been flailing but I did not go under.
We met at Toast, a favorite watering hole of the who’s who of Hollywood hipsters, writers and producers. At least the who’s who that will actually eat what the rest of the world would call food. Over a two hour sitting I did not hear the words yoga, fasting or juice cleansing within our proximity. Today was not the day for any of that.
In what turned out to be the beginning of my perfect day, we talk about life, plans, struggles and expectations. We talked about life, love and family. I regained my equilibrium and sense of proportion.
For all of my Paris musings, today was a perfect L.A day. And you never know, maybe our next brunch can be over perfect quail eggs and caviar and champagne in Paris.