Some days are definitively good days. The Friday before last I found myself on an impromptu walk through Dulwich and though it was freezing cold, the autumn sun shone onwards. The light breeze of the early afternoon remained crisp, but not sharp. I stomped down the high street in my platform Ugg boots, wrapped up in my longline black Afghan coat, offset with some baby pink gloves. With me in my bag (picture a ‘granny’ coin purse enlarged to the size of an everyday bag) was my purse, a book, my journal, and a singular biro. Walking down long roads aimlessly, adamant on not wasting the afternoon indoors, away from the sunlight, I find a charity shop and wander inside. I shuffle my fingers through the rails, feeling the fabric of various pieces but not picking them up to get a proper look, as if brushing my thumb and finger against the texture of a top will help me visualise it better in my wardrobe.
I find a slash neck, leopard print top decorated with red roses and frilly sleeves straight out of the new romantic era (I love a frill) and cling on to it. Taking my time at the back of the shop where they host the furniture and glassware, I look at big goblets and pint glasses that have clearly been taken from pubs on various nights out. I look at odd champagne flutes and stemmed wine glasses that seem lonely outside of their pair. I find a set of four port/sherry glasses that look like shrunken wine glasses and stop myself from buying them. Although I don’t drink sherry, I imagine they would make the poshest of shot glasses.
After paying £3 for my new top (steal), I leave the shop feeling chuffed with myself. I find a café, treat myself to a hot chocolate, put on an old Spotify playlist I made just for reading, and tuck in. It’s entirely made up of movie scores by Piero Piccioni, some jazz, and my favourite classical songs that make me feel like I’m either frolicking through some type of idyllic landscape — a luscious field laden with flowers — or the protagonist in a film just as something pivotal to the plot takes place. Either way, it makes for great music to read to. Time passes me by hurriedly until its been over two hours and there is just shy of 30 pages left of my book.
Walking home, I check the movie times of my local cinema and see that the film I have been desperate to see, Anora, is showing in thirty minutes. Excitedly, I pop into Poundland before buying my ticket. I buy water, a mars bar, a tube of pringles (sustenance), and settle into the all too familiar red fabric seats of my trustee cinema. The movie, which follows the whirlwind romance between a sex worker from Brooklyn and the rich, young son of a Russian oligarch had caught my attention weeks before its release and I knew I had to see it. “Sean Baker does for sex workers what Martin Scorsese did for Gangsters” writes a user on Letterboxd, and it is indeed very accurate. Its shot beautifully, its full of life, and it is most definitely the funniest movie I’ve seen this year, something which I didn’t expect going into it. In saying that, there is a profound sadness that hangs in the air throughout it’s duration. It is absolutely heavy hearted, and I welled up during the last scene.
Oh, it was a Friday night well spent. It reminded me that I hadn’t spent a day out with myself in along time. Post lockdown, particularly in the early spring of 2021, days out with myself were the norm, and I loved it. I’d spend spring days in the park, reading and walking, or I’d have solo adventure outings which involved numerous gallery visits, window shopping, and market browsing. I pride myself on the joy I find in my own company and my state of independence. Don’t get me wrong, I love people, parties, and gatherings, I love chatting, but I also love being with myself. Though I’m technically 52% extroverted according to my MBTI test (make room for the life of the party!), I don’t find time spent on my lonesome all that lonely.
One thing about me, if there’s a mirror, I’m taking a selfie. Cinema fit! Bag, Jasper Conran (Vinted), Black flared pants, H&M, red high neck jumper, Chaps, jacket, vintage (Vinted), mini boot platforms, Ugg.
For much of the last few months, I’ve been surrounded by people. I’ve gone out in groups, been to events, to parties, and yes, on occasion, to the club. Whilst all of that is fun, sometimes I forget the joy that can be found in much softer movements. In having a day out with yourself, or even an easy day in. I aspire to the level of whimsy captured in the photo of Ethan Hawke on a county line train with nothing accompanying him but the can of fizzy drink in his hand. Some days ago, with no impending shifts, no pressing personal admin to attend to, and nothing on my social calendar, I found myself just relaxing indoors. Groundbreaking I know, but as a slave to capitalist time, (the capitalistic conception of time as something which should be filled with nonstop productivity), I hardly ever do this guilt free or without FOMO. This time however, I had nothing on the agenda and could devote myself to Pinterest scrolling, reading, and movie time. Life’s simple pleasures really. My letterboxd diary has been going crazy.
The ease and slowness of that Friday afternoon turned evening was much needed. Sometimes that trip to the cinema by yourself on a Friday night will save you! Though partying season is coming in full swing with the beloved festive season, I find myself leaning into gentleness. Settling down for the evening with my book or getting through my movie watchlist is comforting. It is easy to find solace in solitude during this time of year anyway, days are shorter, and the weather is harsher. As a sun lover, I always find this time of year hard, and so communing with my friends and time spent in community is equally important. Though the season calls for hibernation, isolation also isn’t the answer.
On Sunday, in need of socialising outside of a work environment, I went straight from work to a friends for a slap up roast and some movie watching where I subsequently watched The Substance, practically under duress. On Tuesday, I accompanied my cousin to be an extra in a short film her friend is working on, giggling before takes as we’d practice our movements, trying to capture the realism of a house party. We gestured fake punches and swilled our empty red cups at each other before quickly getting serious when the stern director would walk back in, and the camera crew would follow. Unwinding with my close friend over white wine and on-the-nose horrors, as well as funny chats with an American in between takes of our mimed conversation were equally as nourishing to me as an afternoon alone spent lost in a great book. Life is about balance after all.
When was the last time you indulged in some you time?
Queencoc0 Talks 
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