In My Solitude...
In My Solitude...
Social hibernation and a very exciting pepper grinder.
One of my friends, prone to bursting into song whenever a conversation lags, went through a phase of belting the first line of “Solitude.” She’d do it with an exaggerated impersonation of Billie Holiday that stretched out the last syllable. It always made me laugh in a perplexed sort of way, because uncultured as I am, I wasn’t sure if the line was meant to sound like that.
“In. my. solituuudeeeee…”
This was the refrain I kept hearing last weekend as I intentionally spent the day alone.
Saturday Morning - Lounging with RuPaul
I woke up to the sound of a dwindling humidifier after suffering from a night of insomnia and a stubborn smoker’s cough.1 I canceled my loose plans for the day (which I’d never intended to follow through on) and located the Bloomingdale’s gift card I’d stashed for emergency retail therapy purposes.
I enjoyed my weekly ritual of watching RuPaul’s Drag Race the morning after its release. A mug of tea in hand, I lounged, content to have no responsibilities. And what a magnificent episode it was! The season 15 “Rusicle” was outstanding and a lip sync battle set to “Running Up that Hill” was icing on the cake.2
Saturday Afternoon - Bloomingdale’s
I arrived at Bloomingdale’s around 3 pm intending to blow my wad at the home section of the store, since this would be my first time at Bloomingdale’s with my very own home to furnish.
The Bloomingdale’s on 59th street is a special if not sacred destination. I love buildings that have the audacity to take up an entire city block. The first floor is so inviting with designer bag displays, glittering jewelry cases, and a thick air of perfume. I always feel so cosmopolitan surveying that scene as I ascend the escalator toward the endless possibilities on the upper floors.
Both of my moms love to shop in their own way, but Machiko taught me the art of mastering the department store. I can’t remember when we started going for frozen yogurt at Forty Carrots, but I can track key moments of my life through our visits. Christmas dresses. My first pair of pumps. The search for the perfect prom dress. The dress I bought to ease the pain of my worst breakup. Our ritual of trying things on, revisiting favorite brands, and experimenting with new aesthetics goes beyond the clothes we leave with. It’s one of the ways we spend time together. It allowed me to cultivate my sense of personal style and have the confidence to carry it out.
A lot of friends find extensive racks of clothing intimidating, but it’s my favorite way to shop. You must remember "The clothes fail you. You don't fail the clothes." If you don’t, you’ll forever be sorry you’re not a size 2 or a foot taller or curvier or whatever it may be. You must think of yourself as the client and each item on each rack as fighting for the honor of going home with you. The majority of what I bring to a dressing room will fail me, but that’s a blessing that keeps me on budget. When you finally do find “the one,” it’s all the more satisfying.
But today was not for clothes! As soon as I reached the cookware section on the top floor I began lusting after a Le Creuset Dutch oven. These pots are supreme when it comes to French cooking but also obscenely expensive.3
The question was not whether Le Creuset was worth splurging on. They’re gorgeous, historied, and supposedly last forever if you care for them properly. Was it worth it for me? I asked the sales representative what you make in a Dutch oven and his reply was, “Anything. Stews, meatballs, chicken.”
I have never cooked any of these things.
Whenever I have the rare free time to cook, I bake. I simply couldn’t justify purchasing this gorgeous pot only to let it collect dust in my cabinet. Instead, I got a cake display case, an adorable mini frying pan, and this pepper grinder (which I actually needed).
Saturday Night - Laundry
I have nothing insightful to say about how much time I devoted to laundry this weekend, except that it is a necessary evil in all our lives. I usually find caring for and folding my clothes satisfying, but waiting an hour for a load of towels to dry, only for the load to come out damp is infuriating.
Later Saturday Night - Baking
Late Saturday night, while I was schlepping laundry back and forth across the East side,4 I bought ingredients for zucchini bread. I was so determined to bake that I contemplated starting the batch at midnight before realizing I needed baking soda. This was divine intervention and a sign I needed to sleep.
Before going to bed, I went downstairs to take out my kitchen trash and saw a little black cat hiding under a car outside my building. I spent ten minutes trying to coax her out, but she was too scared.
I’ve since bought tuna fish, so I am properly prepared for her next appearance.
Sunday Morning - Baking (Take 2)
I woke up early with energy (for the first time in a long time), bought baking soda, and began my zucchini bread adventure. There’s not much to say here other than it’s always satisfying to bake something and bake it well. My favorite part isn’t eating the product, so much as precisely preparing it. Whenever I cook, things start to get away from me as soon as I turn the burner on. It’s nice that you can bake slowly if you want to, which is my favorite way to do it.
The zucchini bread was a success, but I added a few too many chocolate chips and walnuts. Noted for next time.
Sunday Afternoon - Swimming
Swimming is the epitome of meditative solitude.
At my core, I’m a cerebral gal. I like to talk. I like to think. I think too much but at twenty-three I’ve accepted that. I love to read, sew, and bake, but I don’t have a lot of physical hobbies. Swimming is the exception I think because it offers me uninterrupted space to think. Once muscle memory takes over, there’s a meditative quality that comes with being surrounded by water and the action of moving your body through it.
You can’t talk to a friend or listen to music in the pool, so all you have for entertainment are your thoughts. As I move through the water, I like to imagine slowly moving through my own mental blocks. Sometimes I come out of the pool with a great idea, other times I don’t but I’m never worse for taking that time to myself.
Swimming in school was a social activity. Spending time with friends and being part of a team were the main draws. Now, I go out of my way to keep swimming without any social incentive. The locker room atmosphere that used to be full of screaming teenagers is now sparsely populated with quiet older women. Instead of changing under my towel, I take long showers in the member locker room and get excited about the steam room. I like testing my lungs and endurance. After spending a lot of time attaching disdain and shame to exercise, now I find myself called toward having a physical outlet. Swimming even makes me feel more in touch with my body instead of hyper-conscious of it.
These are good, necessary things.
Sunday Evening - A Return to Form
“Solitude” is a sad song. It doesn’t align with the mood of my weekend, but the way it kept replaying in my head matched the consciousness I felt about being alone. I’m comfortable with my own company. I miss my old roommates. But do I miss having roommates? Not as much as I expected.
After a weekend like this one, I wonder what my solitude says about me and where the line is between hibernation and isolation. Leaning into my solitude is only scary because of what it might imply about me. If I can exist on my own, does it mean I’m destined to? The art lining my new apartment is overwhelmingly populated by single women. Since my mom visited, she’s insisted I need couples to “improve the feng shui” and ensure I’m manifesting properly.
And yet being single feels good lately.
Meeting a friend for drinks before my family dinner felt like an apt return to form. The place, Heidi’s House by the Side of the Road, had a great tiny but cozy ambiance for reentering the social stratosphere. I had a lovely time catching up with one of my oldest friends, which led to a lovely birthday dinner with family. This week, I had four more great dinners with loved ones now that I finally have my evenings free. As I prepare to publish this, I find myself on the cusp of another weekend, packed with friends and family.
So, I’m not isolated by any means. But when solitude occasionally calls, it’s nice to know I have the stomach for it.
Other items…
We Wrapped!
The show I work on wrapped principal photography this Monday, which is a big deal in my world! I’m still working for another week, and it’s all too fresh to write about. It’s bittersweet that this job is coming to an end, but I’m also excited for what’s to come.
I may have to devote a newsletter to it soon.
It’s been a great week for records.
Thrifting Diana Ross’s self-titled album for $4 is hands down the find of this era. The live Donna Summer album would rank higher except it’s missing the second disc with “On the Radio” and “I Feel Love” on it.
I got The Harder They Come off eBay after seeing the musical adaptation at The Public. It’s one of the first albums I’ve bought for sound quality since the Spotify recording of “Johnny Too Bad” isn’t mixed correctly. Happy to report that the record sounds fantastic. Hounds of Love is the first record I’ve bought for full price in a few years because I simply had to have it.
As if these spoils weren’t enough, my parents surprised me after their trip to St. Louis5 with three more records - Prince's Purple Rain, Taylor Swift's Red (Taylor's version obviously), and Lizzo's Special. All three of these are heavy hitters that have been on repeat since I got them, but Lizzo gets a shoutout for lifting me up after a bad day.
Outfit of This Era:
Recommendations for This Era:
“Boss Bitch” by Doja Cat.
Swimming.
Law Roach’s interview with The Cut, for anyone interested in the world of celebrity styling.
Wearing your hair down.
Carnivale Donut Bar (if you need a food truck for an event in NY/NJ).
Taking a break.
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The cough was from a cold, not smoking, but “smoker’s cough” paints a vivid picture of what it sounded like.
But it didn't compare to Anetra vs. Marsha the week before. An epic lip sync for the ages!
At least for someone who only uses her kitchen on weekends.
No in-building laundry is my cross to bear.
If curious minds want to know, they do not recommend St. Louis.
A lot of substacks have incentives for paid subscribers, like private articles, recaps, etc. I’m not sure what kind of benefits I would include for paid subscribers yet, but if any of you are interested/have ideas about what you’d like to see feel free to let me know!
Loveeee! Need to see the cake display cake, also what are the chances that we both did swimming in school lol but I 100% agree, the inertia like feeling after swimming is UNMATCHED