entry 004: why are we so afraid of aging?

my recent birthday has me reflecting on aging, and how the idea of aging affects us.

my mom talks about how her friends gripe about getting old, immobile, and wrinkly. she doesn’t want to hear it. she believes that holding on to youth means cultivating it.

i watch my friends resist getting older, growing away from our college-aged selves. but the older we get, the closer we get to achieving the things we dreamed of.

i feel that society has told us that the older we get, we get less hot, less fun. more focused on work and career, locking down the perfect partner to have perfect babies with by 30.

through it all, i believe that aging is a blessing. we are so lucky to make it one year, one decade older. but society has cooked us, and shaped us (specifically women) to believe that our value goes down the older we get.

my coworker, a young millennial with a toddler at home, told me she thinks that women age faster because we carry more of a societal burden. we’ve been taught to plan for a family, carry a child, and care more deeply than men. we begin to take care of our family and other people, leaving less and less time for ourselves.

it’s a known fact that we mature faster, but i can see how this societal responsibility may make us “age” faster than men. it makes me think of Lynette Scavo from Desperate Housewives.

it’s so funny how we imagined aging when we were young. milestones like marriage felt so far away. as the timeline of those milestones change (ie. people are getting married later or not at all), some people adapt, and some do not, leaving some to wonder if they’re behind, or when it will be their turn.

when thinking about the changing landscape of these milestones, i think about the girls from Insecure, especially Issa. though she was the last of the friend group to find her footing in her career, everything happened at the right time.

as a teen and into my 20s, i often fussed over the details of my birthday. this year, 24, was the first that felt solid. i didn’t feel the urge to have a meltdown or scrutinize the details of my day. instead, i enjoyed the moment for what it was, and felt the groundedness of where i am at.

the more my frontal lobe reaches its full development (thank God), the more i feel like i know myself. i know what choices i want to make and who i want to be. i have an easier time trusting myself even though that’s always a challenge.

this season, i’m focusing on the idea that we are right where we need to be.

entry 003: curly hair rant

my auntie liv gave me my first blowout in the 4th grade. the feeling of my hair being so light on my head was addicting- i ran around her apartment just to feel it flowing behind me.

after that, i got Dominican blowouts ever so often for special occasions. i yearned for the feeling of confidence a fresh blowout gave me. my hair was always thick and long, but when it was curly it was frizzy and messy. when it was straight, it was sleek and neat. more manageable.

in 6th grade, i would wake up before the sun rose just to poorly press my dry hair with a cheap two inch flat iron before school. my hair was still frizzy after the flatiron burned and pressed it, and i just hoped people didn’t notice. once, a boy in my class said to me “you know your hair’s poofy, right?” i acted like it was on purpose.

in high school, my hair was straight for dance performances and competitions, as we typically put our hair into a high pony, or two braids. when it was curly, i put it in a tight bun on the top of my head. once this girl tried to roast me by saying i had a “trash bag bun.” i wasn’t sure what she was talking about because i definitely had thicker hair than her….

it wasn’t until my seniorish year of high school that i began to nurture my damaged curls, and perfect my straightening process to minimize damage. i copied the technique i observed for years at the Dominican salon. a proper heat protectant, the closest you can get to straight with the hair dryer, and all you need is “one pass” of the flat iron. slightly curling in or out at the ends to hide the dead ends and you are set.

ever since i began to straighten my hair, i wondered why i got such a boost of confidence from it. when my hair is done, my face is the same shape and my facial features stay the same. but something about straight hair allows my features to be seen, they appear sharper even, when not blocked by my curls. even braids give me an automatic face lift. but all of this has to be in my head, right? y’all can’t see the difference, can you?

have i seriously been conditioned this hard to think that straight hair is “better?” but curly hair is so beautiful on other people, and i know my natural hair is beautiful. it just doesn’t hit the same.

i’m sure everyone gets a boost of confidence when their hair is done. surely, it can’t just be about my hair being straight??

im perplexed by the thought that i could be brainwashed, by the notions that my hair needs to be straight or in braids to be neat, manageable, or beautiful. it would explain the fact that i feel 10 times more chic when my hair is straight, though. my fits eat more, i serve harder.

it’s sad really. why can i love curly hair on others, on my friends, family, admiring those on the red carpet or on the street. but when my curls dry after a wash day, im on day one hair and its a rainy humid day, everything goes to shit? all of a sudden, my fit’s weak, my skin’s rough.

i’ve convinced myself to accept it. i’d rather have frizzy unruly curls than damaged ones. i will buy this $22 curl cream because it’s what i know works. i will book the $185 curly cut because she knows what she’s doing. but damn.

having curly hair is time and money consuming. but i suppose it’s the price to pay for uniqueness, and at the end of the day, we want what we don’t have. maybe that’s the moral of the story here.

entry 002: the scents of nyc

my first job out of college, i worked at Santa Maria Novella as a client advisor. for 8 months, my work life revolved around luxury fragrance and home goods. i met a diverse group of people- tourists, celebrities, world leaders, families, and many cute dogs. it was a beautiful induction into getting acquainted with new york city living.

working retail in new york paved my way to move to brooklyn, and while the hour commute to flatbush made me miserable, working with and witnessing the emotional power of fragrance was enlightening.

my first introduction to working with fragrance was when i worked at Glossier in DC. that was the year Glossier You went crazy viral, and you could walk literally anywhere and smell someone wearing it.

to be honest, it wasn’t my favorite on me. the bottle I received through gratis is still sitting in my display full.

while Glossier connects to its clients through its smart marketing, Santa Maria Novella shines through the power of storytelling. the Florence, Italy based brand, calls itself the oldest pharmacy in the world. it’s US flagship in soho, stands 20 something years strong near the corner of lafayette and east houston.

the rich history and unique products delighted people. witnessing the connection people had to fragrance was fascinating. clients would come in looking for discontinued, no longer sold fragrances, chasing a sentiment that it brought them many years ago. some would buy all the bottles they could of fragrances they loved, that were going out of production. parents brought their children, young or grown, to learn about the brand, and peruse the products.

my favorite sense is taste, but my experience working in fragrance brought me closer to my sense of smell. as we know, new york city smells are notorious. on a spring or summer walk, one second you’re smelling like the the flowers, and the best pizza dough ever, and the next it smells like hot armpit. if you’ve ever been on the L train, you’ll know what i mean…

now when i walk through the city, i’m clocking what whiff of fragrance im getting from people on the street.

Le Labo, Giorgio Armani, Chanel No. 5 and 22. i am locked into fragrance and what it says about people like never before.

Baccarat Rouge 540 says i am here, acknowledge my presence. anything Jo Malone says i am lowkey judging you. a draft of incensey perfume oils reminds me of my home in high school. and of course, my personal least favorite- that YSL cologne. let’s put it away, people.

being around fragrance so often led me to some of my own exploration. my boyfriend put me on to Scentbird, a fragrance subscription service that allows you to try different fragrances without the price of even a travel size (this is not sponsored but sponsor me though). through some trail and error, i found my new signature fragrance- Juliet Has A Gun Lust For Sun. some other honorable mentions i love include Ariana Grande Cloud, Chloé, and Sol de Janeiro Cheirosa 87 Rio Radiance. if you love florals, coconutty vibes, and sunshine, get into these.

not only does fragrance make you smell good, it literally makes you feel. it can bring you closer to nostalgia, a distant childhood memory, or repulse you for a reason unrecognizable. finding the fragrances you cherish leaves your scent profile and mark on the world ˶ᵔ ᵕ ᵔ˶

what are your favorite fragrances? or nostalgic smells?

entry 001: you don’t need closure.

i once was getting to know this guy who lived in another state. we met through mutual friends, and he occasionally flirted with me, trying to get my attention when we were all out together. we talked here and there, but i didn’t think much of it.

after some years of his advances, i considered getting to know him better. when we weren’t in each other’s vicinity we texted and called here and there, but our main communication method was snapchat (sigh).

he visited me once, and i visited him once. we met each other’s friends and showed each other around our respective cities.

though i enjoyed our time together, we weren’t really on the same page. he acted differently depending on who we were around. around my friends, he was affectionate and attentive. around his friends, he was distant and i could tell he was testing me somehow.

once, when we were out at a bar, some random tried to talk to me, so i got his attention, hoping he would shoo the guy away. instead, the random guy erupted “oh this is you?!” gesturing to me. and they dapped each other up… i didn’t think much of it at the time.

after our last visit, we fell off, not texting or calling anymore, just a snapchat here and there.

about a month after we last chatted, i get a text from him, “so when are you coming back to my city?”

what happened to hi? what happened to hello how’s your summer?

disgusted, i blocked him everywhere.

i felt like i was just a body to him. i thought back to the time at the bar, and it all made sense.

i stood strong on my decision, especially when he tried to get my attention by sending me a venmo payment to send me a message (he deadass sent 10 cents). and when he spray painted my name on some alleyway, my friend sent me a photo and we cracked up.

some months go by, and i began to feel badly for the way i ended things.

was i too harsh? sure, the connection wasn’t there but surely i could have given him some grace and politely offered closure about the situation.

i ruminated over this for a few days. of course, i wasn’t going to double back and issue some apology, but i did question the morality of how i went about the situation. i mean, i practically ghosted him. truthfully, i think i was worried about not being “nice enough.”

one night, i had a dream about it. i dreamed that we talked, and that i sincerely apologized for the way i reacted and ended things so abruptly. but he didn’t care.

he kept pursuing me using the same empty flattery he offered me in the beginning.

i woke up stunned. i was worried for nothing. instead of remembering the ways we weren’t aligned, and how off i felt in some moments we were together, i was feeling badly about knowing my worth.

my silence was my closure as well as his.

my first reaction was my true one, and the “closure” the situation needed was served. my subconscious understood that he didn’t see my true worth, and reminded me through a dream. there was no need to look back and wonder “what if” because i made the right decision.

your true reaction to disrespect is the right one and all the closure you need is in the disrespect you faced.