Up in the air

Do you still remember when you could smoke inside airplanes?

I can’t believe I was already around when that sort of Mad Men behavior was happening. My father had a bar cart in his office, it sparkled with different kinds of scotch and highball glasses all bearing names and logos of different airlines. Mad Men! Mad Men!

Traveling was a big thing in my dad’s time. Stewardesses (not flight attendants) were decked out in Pucci and Yves Saint Laurent. They usually married the millionaires who could afford to fly in airplanes then; the more free-spirited ones usually smuggled drugs to different countries or cities.

Today, there is no bigger buzzkill than being in an airport. The humiliating security check, the long lines at Easyjet (the Sea Air of Europe), the plane food that was akin to the meals in Oliver!

Like the man said in Jerry Maguire, “It used to be a better meal, now it’s a better life.”

It’s been eight months since my last article. Here I am again in a retro situation. I’m still not anyone’s wife. I still have Choco Mallows for breakfast. Moved back to London after a life implosion. Oh, the classics.

My life is all about airports and jet lag now.

Again, I sleep next to my laptop for spontaneous Skype sessions with my best friend and my BlackBerry for everything else. Carpal tunnel and insomnia, here we come.

This booty nomad lifestyle is getting very expensive. Thank heavens for VOIP and BBM.

I am forever in London time now and my dog is having abandonment issues. My house is a mess and my new home consists of my two aubergine Salsa Rimowa bags by which at the end of the year may very well be my residence in Europe as I am about to file Chapter 11.

So why am I doing this?

In the eight months that I have undertaken radio silence three things have happened: My wedding was cancelled. A good friend passed away just before Easter. I hit a major depression that left me hiding out in my house for at least two months.

Then I woke up and decided to visit my friend Sam in Hong Kong with every cocktail dress I owned.

It was the Art Fair; I really couldn’t care less. Sam, who suddenly cared about art, threw a dinner for all the important art dealers who came to see the fair. The thing was, I befriended this amazing artist called Barnaby Furnas, of whom Tom Ford collected exclusively. We talked about common disenchantment and Tom Ford for six hours and I was wiped out. I just had no energy to go to this dinner. Sam was adamant and there I was slipping into a no-fail Rhett Eala dress ready to be the party zombie.

Then something clicked.

This time it was a Steve Jobs connect-the-dots kind of thing.

Connect the dots:

Cancelled wedding: Yes, the Madame Grès wedding dress will never see the light of day. Calling off a wedding is actually not as awful as it looks in movies but it definitely sucks. I mean, there was no violent bouquet bashing going on. It’s important to know that you want a marriage and not just a wedding. Marriage, as we know, is not all that fun. It does open your eyes to the hard truths of adulthood and our priorities. I’ll never stop believing in falling in love and doing all that. But somehow the fantasy of doodling your name next to your significant other’s last name has somehow gone pale. Long are the days when your Trapper Keeper seemed to be the journal of a would-be stalker.

Everyone cries when the onion is peeled. However, get some air in and you get to see clearly again.

Death of beloved friend: My friend was battling cancer for four years. He did everything, down to alternative methods. During his last few weeks he remained optimistic. Sitting up and having a nibble of a cracker and a sip of tea was a triumph. I think everyone knows when they’re about to die — like dogs who hide in corners waiting for their time to come. My best friend Joel, who passed a few years ago, definitely did. So my friend started asking me for stories on crossing over and what happens. We gave him the book The Last Lecture. I think he never really got to finish it,.

A week before he died he asked me why I was being so hard on myself, constantly punishing myself for random things. I told him I just wanted to lead a good life. He told me I was wasting it. Who better to tell me this than my friend who was fighting for his?

It was then I decided to just do it. Invest in life. Money is about freedom, not personal value. Thus I’m broke, but extremely rich in life.

Depression: This was not some Elizabeth Wurtzel kind of cryfest. Everyone has that “down” moment. It was more like Greece: an inevitable collapse and catastrophe. I literally stayed in my house for two months.

I learned to bark just because my dogs were my only companions.

I learned to accept it’s okay to be sad. It’s okay to be overwhelmed. I took a break from work and allowed myself to rearrange my house every day like a crazy woman. I was blessed to have been able to take the time off to do this. I cried and sometimes I would stay in my room swathed in blackout curtains for days which scared Joy, my nanny. It was very Grey Gardens.

Celine Noir: who would have thought? This happens and we shouldn’t be ashamed when it does. But then you snap out of it. Go somewhere or do something that has nothing to do with your past.

Thus: Go For It!

I have a different life now. I have since stopped spending hard-earned cash on hard-skinned clutches. I take life improvement classes. I look forward to doing my laundry. Seriously, it’s my new thing: I even have a detergent cocktail. I’m a homebody but certainly not a hermit.

I’m happy.

When life sucks, know it will always pass. Then you get a hot guy and kick a shopping problem all at once.

I promise it does happen. We all have our fairy tales to fulfill.