I just got back from an unexpected trip to NYC. I was born there and lived there for a decent portion of my formative years.
You know, the ones that define your personality and lifestyle.
While I love Portland, it has never really felt like home. I am reminded of this when I go home and dressing "up" isn't rare but de rigueur. I feel out of place in Portland wearing heels for day, ironing my clothes, never leaving the house without a spot of Jo Malone's "Red Roses" and sporting bright red lips at my 7am meeting.
The fact that I even have a 7am weekly professional meeting makes me feel like a fringe Oregonian.
My plates are limoges, my couch queen anne. I realized last week the family forks I feed my cat wet food with go for $157.00 each on ebay.
I shake hands when I meet people and enjoy a good cheek kiss with friends and family. I swear, banter and have definite opinions. I like tradition. I value manners. I take my meals in courses. And I am embracing all of these things.
I might even go buy a new black wool shift and attend a catholic mass in latin.
All this is distinctly me and quite normal somewhere but seems forced and awkward here.
Like these ridiculous shoes. I love them and they are coming with me to that catholic mass with that new wool shift, my jo malone and flamboyant red lips. I will meet new people and shake their hands; kiss them on the cheek when we are friends. We can eat our meals in courses and say "please & thank you" as we pass our dishes from the left.