A day in the dollhouse. Little castle in the middle of Brooklyn. Blonde n’ loving it. Morning starts with playing dress up. A million articles of clothing on your floor by noon- dress, hats, feathers, gold and lace. What character do you feel like being today? Perhaps a mermaid, perhaps a cowgirl, maybe even Sailor Moon? Decide on space angel in a white dress and press go. Then it’s off to the fridge for breakfast, which usually just involves cutting up mango and spilling almond milk on the floor. Blasting Iggy Azalea as you curl your hair. Daydreaming of pink houses and Jamaican boys and neon clothing.
Throw a fur on, and run out the door. Big sunglasses on for this Friday adventure. Play in the park and collect pink flowers for your girlfriend. Kiss the sky, wear a cape and pack a picnic. Fresh air afternoon in a little bit of spring paradise. After that, return to your apartment and dance around into your swimsuit until you decide what to wear. It’s Friday night and you want to go out dressed as a mermaid. Running around, slipping on your wood floors. Eating avocado and sipping sparkling water. You finally decide on big black boots and a little dress. The evening is yours, you’ll be back in the dollhouse before the clock strikes midnight.
white dress by AGAIN
white platforms by YRU
black lace up boots by Jeffrey Campbell
hello swimsuit by Wildfox
jewelry by Sequin NYC
photos by Jenn Senn
Do you down, I’ve been clowning around. A girl glows from an apartment window. It’s morning in Brooklyn, and the fridge is filled with avocados and mangos. It’s not the same magic you’ve felt before. Breakfast turns into a pillow-fight, and a pillow-fight turns into getting dressed for the day.
Twist on a feeling, and taking to the streets. Cheese fries and afternoon sodas in the west village. A cigarette on a city bike. Small talk with truckers and shinny tires. Subway to Soho, it’s not those spells you’ve felt before. Writing film love stories to fill the day, the sun comes down in all shades of yellow. Backseat kissers. Going faster and faster.
The nighttime is my time. Johnny Cash and the XX. Open bottle of wine on the evening, reflections. Two glasses in and spinning into the bathroom to light a cigarette. Watch your smoke blow in the mirror, falling in space. I can feel the heat of the night on my face, I can feel the beat of the flash in my chest. I can feel that we are everything we want to be, exceeding our own expectations with each inhale and glare into the mirror.
Jump from the ledge and crawl on the kitchen table. We take to the outside. Winter still chills our red fingers, blood pumping and familiar to the taste of an evening. We are wild running in the warehouses filled with teens like us. Chugging sugar champagne and swallowing gummy worms. Stabbing pens in my hands and sharing our leather jackets. I will stand on the roofs of Brooklyn’s finest in the name of the young kids.
Cause you see, I’ve been clowning around, but it’s not what it seems. And I know that it don’t count much, but you’d be better with me. It will all be fine when we get it on.
photo editorial by Sam Livm