BFFs

Krystal and I have decided that we need to arrange a photoshoot together ASAP. Ideally, this would be shot for Vogue and also feature our fashion/life idols, Marianne Faithfull and Anita Pallenberg, a sort of passing of the torch if you will. I also happen to think that K and I should go into business together, and whatever we create should utilize some grouping of the letters AKLM. What do you think?

I don't want to intimate that I, in any way, am as grand as the these three ladies I've mentioned, or that I can hold a candle to them in terms of their beauty, grace and style, but I find myself incredibly inspired by them anyway. Krystal has been one of my absolute best friends for about a year and a half now (she gave me the fur coat I'm wearing in one picture!). We bonded over our love of the Stones and rock n' roll, as well as our appreciation for rock goddesses and muses.

Happy 2009 everyone! Let's make it a fabulous year. Again, I will be spending the evening drinking champagne (the $130 special reserve Veuve Clicquot) with someone gorgeous who greatly excites me, and being happy.

xooxoox

"She comes in colours everywhere..."

HAPPY BIRTHDAY, MARIANNE FAITHFULL!

This post is in honour of her majesty, Miss Marianne, turning the ripe old age of 62 today, December 29, 2008. We all know how much I appreciate and admire this woman, who has lived the lives of a dozen girls. If you haven't read her amazing autobiography Faithful, put it on your list. More than just an iconic beauty of the late '60s, Marianne is an inspiration--a strong, smart and exquisite woman. She has not only inspired some of the greatest songs the Stones ever wrote, but wrote some herself. I'll be in Washington D.C. tonight donning the most Marianne-ish outfit I can find and sipping some champagne! Bless you, sister morphine. If only I could be as beautiful as you!

Never kept a dollar past sunset...

How true those words, sung by Mr. Richard on Exile track "Happy", are this time of year with Christmas just a day away! I actually selected such a quote not to comment on my lack of monetary responsibility (which is a given) but to declare that, alas, I am somewhat Happy myself. Seated at the front desk in a building that I own 22.5 % of, pounding Vitamin C, sipping Evian, and soaking up all of the tiny space heater that I can (it's perpetually freezing), I am actually rather content. The past couple of months have not been very good ones, but guess what? War is over, if you want it. And I wanted it.

When I first met the C word, I fell in infatuation harder than I ever had in my life. I ignored the advice of, well, pretty much everyone, and when it was finally time for us to be together, he continued to fuck up so catastrophically that my feelings were irrevocably hurt. In our relationship, I did things wrong too, although I don't suppose gravitating to a man who was nice to me after being ignored, taken for granted, and having him gravitate towards other people as well is really that reprehensible an offense. Guilt is not an enjoyable feeling, and I felt it for months and months, as if in constant apology for something he had done too (and worse!). Anyway, it ended up being that C and I parted ways, a decision I have been very much lauded for by my family and friends. It wasn't easy and I've certainly been a bit down at time, but I finally feel like I'm free. Free of the worry and suspicion that used to define my days (and this was when we were together). Girls, I will offer a slice of advice--don't ever let yourself be with a man who makes you feel in competition. The C Word knew I was better than those haggard, two-bit trolls, but he always wanted to keep me down, keep me feeling badly about myself. Was this indicative of some deep insecurity on his part? Perhaps. I don't really know and I suppose I won't be bothered thinking about it any more. But I've been hurt, a lot. I (almost) pity a guy I seriously fancy and who seriously fancies me because I'm bound to be "a little bleary, worse for wear and tear".

Fortunately, I want so many better things for myself, and they are arriving. My best friend Lucie moved back to Washington D.C. in October and I don't think I would have survived my heartache without her nursing my wounds with lunches and sleepovers (and of course, nap time!). I'm going to pursue my dream of modeling, I'm trying to get on better with my family, and I hope that some day a marvelous guy who is exceedingly charming falls for me. At 22, I think I'm finally beginning to realize what I want out of life and what I deserve, and the two aren't so different. I hope this post finds the few people that read this very well indeed.

Special thanks to aforementioned BFFs Lucie and Krystal (I swear I'll post more, K!). Also to a lovely young woman named Kat, a fellow redhead and rock n' roll lover, who has been very instrumental in my feeling OK about leaving The C Word. To my sister Meredyth, the most gorgeous little girl I know--Lord knows I can't live without you (so please never put me in that position). To Mackenzie, my niece. The light that 7 month old baby has brought to my life is immeasurable. For my extended family, of which there are many members, particularly my Aunts Ellie and Lisa. For my Mommy, who despite her Catholic guilt and frugality is one of the best people I know and someone I really do love being around.

HAPPY CHRISTMAS TO ALL OF YOU!

Dear Future Boyfriend (Whoever You May Be):

Last month I made a list of things I want from a person I would be involved in. Now, being raised as somewhat of a spoiled brat, I've always been very used to getting what I want, and I suppose I assumed that life would always be that way. Not just in terms of material things, but that I'd get what I wanted from people, too; have romantic, fairytale love affairs and all that stuff. Most of the people that know me or have been involved with me usually marvel that I'm not more demanding than I am. As a girlfriend, I am peculiarly low-maintenance. I don't expect a man to always pay for me (I usually pay for them, actually) or to buy me diamonds or roses. That idea of romance doesn't appeal to me at all (unless it's a skull diamond ring, and flowers aren't so bad...). But I do expect certain things that I think any girl (any 'good' girl) is entitled to. These are a bit tailored to my specific personality quirks, and inspired by the LACK of these things I have sometimes experienced, but I'm sure it echoes the sentiments of others.

The way to my heart:

-I want a man who throws rocks at my bedroom window at three o’ clock in the morning.
-I want a man who always makes me feel like the most beautiful girl in the room.
-I want a man who pays attention to me, and doesn’t even glance in the direction of other girls, who grabs my hand and says with his body language and his words that he is mine; someone naturally affectionate.
-I want a man who would never be attracted to a mousy brunette, a man who prefers golden haired, long-legged beauties with blue eyes.
-I want a man who I can trust; who, if he goes out with friends, I won’t worry that he's actually doing something else.
-I want a man who respects me.
-I want a man who appreciates all the little quirks and silly things I do, and loves me for them.
-I want a man who defends me, and would never tolerate someone being mean or cruel to me. If someone was mean to me, I would expect him to tell him/her to fuck off.
-I want a man who would choose me over anyone in the world.
-I want a man who feels protective over me and my feelings.
-I want a man to take care of and who takes care of me.
-I want a man who truly feels and expresses that he is lucky to have me.
-I want a man to drink champagne with, and who will take me to dinner or cook for me.
-I want a man who gets me presents, even if it’s something small, even if it’s not something he buys but creates, just to let me know he cares. I don't care about price tags. That's what Edward Merrow is for!
-I want a man who calls me out of the blue, not just when he is “supposed” to, even if just to say “hi” or “I love you”. If I am upset and hang up, I want a man who will know to call me back.
-I want a man that would fight for me, who, if I threatened to leave, would try to do anything to keep me. I want a man who knows how to say “I’m sorry".

OK, Lifetime-esque episode terminated. Of course, I need someone who I'm super attracted to and who looks at me and doesn't know whether to wrap his coat around me and protect me from the dragons or fuck me senseless, but that goes without saying. And someone who won't make fun of me if I happen to eat a pint of Ben & Jerry's in one sitting.

I think it helps to make lists like this. Over the past month, I've really awakened to how unhappy I have been, and how much people have let me down. Why should I put up with that? I'm 22 years old. I'm hot, I'm sweet, I have better taste in music than, let's face it, everyone (or at least other pretty girls inclined to r n' r), I'm rich, generous, smart, engaging. I see so many people I dearly love (my best friends, my sweet little sister) searching for that person, or attempting to understand why it hasn't worked out with someone, and it's amazing to me. Guess what, men? WE are the prize. We have the pussy. We win. Time to start acting like it.

Sound as ever,

LKM

And it sure been a cold, cold winter...

The Rolling Stones album Goats Head Soup is perhaps not widely regarded as a masterpiece because it was the follow up to what is, at least in retrospect, a seminal and classic release, 1972's Exile On Main St. However, Goats Head Soup has moments of rich brilliance, from opening rocker "Dancing With Mr. D", the reflective, somewhat sad "100 Years Ago", the fierce "Heartbreaker", the painfully beautiful ode to Miz Pallenberg, "Angie", and another ballad often overlooked: a simple song called "Winter". The inclusion of "Winter" is peculiar, in that I have always considered GHS to be a very "summer" album. Maybe this is because I fell in love with it many summers ago, or that it opens and closes on high notes ("Star Star" being the coda), and maybe it has something to do with its recording in Jamacia (rather, my knowing it was recorded there). But "Winter" feels cold. It feels blustery and goosebump-inducing, candle-inspiring and fur-wearing. The lyrics themselves are quite simple, a love has burned out in the harsh wintery months and perhaps another love will bloom again in the hot summer, but it is delivered with pure elegance, longing and heartbreak. One of my favorite tracks.

Anyway, I love these pictures of Mick Jagger, and a couple of years ago, my roommate snapped an impromptu picture of me in a similar pose (inside of a Starbucks one early morning). Actually, the photo's resemblance to Mick's was completely coincidental, too. There's a vulnerability captured in these photos, and I love it. I think it is one of Mr. Jagger's most compelling characteristics, that he can be so delicate and fragile, so feminine really, and also prance around cocky and evil as the Midnight Rambler, a dichotomy that makes him fascinating.

Speaking of winter, it certainly feels like it today on the East Coast. Washington D.C. is positively freezing--it's going to drop to around 30 degrees tonight, with the possibility of a snow flurry. Winter, harsh and unwelcoming as it may seem to some, is one of my favorite seasons (second to fall). I love long coats and scarves and sweaters, sipping hot chocolate and sitting by the fire, going to bed under thick blankets. Utter romance.

Sadly, like the song I've gone on about in this post, I too feel like it may be a time that my love is burning out. I am hoping for the best, doing all that I can do, but it's not in my hands anymore and it is a very helpless, lost feeling. The absence of a love around the holiday season always stings a bit extra. I frighteningly anticipate a future blog soliciting cures for a broken heart...

I am going to start posting more, turned on to this whole Blogger thing by my soul mate, Krystal Jagger Simpson, a girl prettier than any Rolling Stones ballad. Her friendship over the past year and a half has been a blessing too wonderful to explain.

Till the next goodbye,

Leith