CLASSY GOODBYE

A tribute

Lexi Featherston was one of the most thrilling characters of Sex And The City’s season 6. Memorable how she fell out of the window of one of New York’s exclusive penthouses seating her last hope to live in a brown silk curtain. Party girls are one of those really special types of a person. Always in search for the next hype or rush they seem to dismiss the world they live in. A 25 year old might be all right with living the party as she is still a girl and it effectively doesn’t matter how drunk or filled with coke she might be because her juvenility still helps her to hold the balance on her Manolos. But what happens 15 years later? Will she die like Lexi with the words You all bore me to death! on her lips? Nevertheless one out of a whole range of possibilities isn’t it? Otherwise she will make Betty Ford a lot richer by passing through her 5^th deprivation always persuaded she is wealthy enough to afford it.

Party girls are the shining stars of every Saturday night. Loved and hated they fill it doesn’t matter which hot spot with this certain kind of atmosphere, as everybody wants to get or stay in touch. Of course haters are going to hate, at least for the complete inappropriate outfit, but for my very own understanding this is whence this kind of woman takes her elixir of life out. They normally aren’t that attractive. They shout out to others trying to get their own lives in an ordered way always being behind making something out of them – somehow a kind of beauty. Nevertheless the time flies. While we had the time of our lives yesterday and sometimes try to continue starting into being a grown up these women seem to be bound to their glory days settled in the past, forgetting the present.

Having my last drink on Saturday night I sat down and watched the party people freaking out. I asked myself why the party girl never gets bored of an overfilled and overheated space like the most nightclubs are and what she hopes to find in a shabby location? What if she joins all those memorable stars in the 27 Club? Partying at least her last goodbye in a classy way and leaving the event for the very first time in her entire existence early? Will she even ever have been able to examine if the time was enough or will she somehow regret by saying there would have been enough time for a change? I wonder if she actually will achieve all she ever dreamed for from partying? I mean all talents she might have got, wasted drunk on a dirty floor running after a poshed up lifestyle, surrounding herself with more or less famous people – is it worth the while? Maybe yes. It helps not looking back. Life isn’t the party we were looking for, that’s what every Party girl somehow has to learn. However what our nocturnal excessive partiers have ahead of us is the ability to dance it doesn’t matter what they get, always prepared to every change of rhythm.

Cheers

Lorax

IT'S UP TO YOU - NEW YORK

The island of Manhattan is a strange place. Totally crowded with millions of people it conveys the feeling of being welcome and home even if you haven’t been there for years. It may be the phenomenon of skyscrapers limiting the space – though you are in between the diversity of the human race a glance up to the sky suffices to feel total loneliness and nevertheless a kind of safety. Yes, it is definitely the skyscrapers, but what do we actually define as our homes and how can we express what it means to ourselves? Is a home where your family is, are your friends you might can find everywhere in the world the better family and are homes as a consequence therefore replaceable? Somebody one day said home is where your heart is – seems easy, effectively quite hard. Maybe this quote should be taken more literal than emotional. As our hearts are inside ourselves – not in all but at least in most cases – we carry our homes along every day it doesn’t matter in which place on our planet we are located for a while by furnishing it with memories we caught up since our ability to remember killed our childhood innocence. So why can a city like New York impact our feeling of home? It’s like coming back to your small hometown, having the impression nothing will ever change while the time stands still. Of course you can discover new adventures at any time but basically the structures last. People – fashion – the subway. You are used to it, that’s why it’s common and might be replaceable much more easily than you could ever have imagined. At the end we are able to replace everything from a broken plate to a friend if we actually just want to, so why are we often afraid of doing the same way with our homes? Human’s nature of convenience? I believe things would go like they did with Rupert Everett and his VIP dressing room he was so proud about getting after his first big success at one of London’s West End theaters. We are flying high. Five minutes. After that it makes us sick.

Every time I breathe the wasted air of New York City it is the bespoke feeling that comes over. What is a home? Can we accept a certain place as the one giving us the safety we need no matter what happens or is it our actual living style we need to get into somewhat deeper in order to establish nearness around us? I am afraid we often avoid the idea of loving the things we actually got in order not to run the risk that someday that something might be gone. In some points Frank Sinatra might end up to be right by singing It’s up to you! Doubtful if he meant the city or his very self. No matter where we will make it or want our vagabond shoes to stray – sometimes home is just a feeling.

Cheers

Lorax