The Blueprint of Success
It's never what you think it will be.
"Some people," I suggested, "don't want to do what everyone around them is doing.
"That is probably really deeply a part of myself,” Prada acknowledged.
Recently, I’ve been reflecting on the ambiguous, strange moments where, for a moment, something you are doing seems to actually be working out really well. Serendipitously so. As though you waltz through doors you once prayed would open as easy as spring’s air makes its arrival. Unannounced, but yet noticed. For so long, I wanted to get behind those doors—whether they be the pearly gates of heaven above or the thick velvet curtain cloaking the Wizard of Oz—I wanted in, because I wanted to know.
I could only imagine that what lied on the other side was something outside of grasp—a room, dimly lit that smelt of cigarettes and rancid gardenias. It is there that gorgeous gorgeous people, the most beautiful I have ever seen are adorned in svelte gowns and tailored tuxes, they carry flutes of champagne ever so delicately with a precision I could never manage. The walls and floor and ceiling are plush, lined with the same crimson, no ruby red, padding that makes everyone appear as though they bounce, float and walk among us, yet somehow a step above. Some of them talk to me, but I can see in their eyes that I am merely a stand-in. Throughout vain pleasantries, their eyes dart ever so quickly, but I catch it nonetheless—there just past my shoulder, then again around my right periphery, they are looking for someone more important or fun or shiny or in possession of higher status than I. We cheers our bubbly drinks and sip. Grape juice droplets spill to the carpet, but only from my glass.