A couple of weeks ago and a night at the glamorous St. Regis with Mia Sorelle- it was Pamela’s twenty first Black Party (the next morning’s theme was Pretty in Pastel as evinced from the last photo). We’re missing a couple in the shots (1 x gastric flu, 1 x late) but it’s been a full eight years since i’ve spun on with this clique of ten girls with completely different personalities- flash back to five years back: “but we just want to sing-” overly emotional tearing at every song and screaming at cobblestones down europe oh we have come so far. So many plans sketched out involving cottage living and then mansions and apartment style houses with our respective spouses (and/or cats) and mum dates with kids and then obviously all our kids get married to each other. Because that’s the way teenage girl minds work. I don’t see this bunch very often- geographically we’re scattered, and individually we all lead busy, slightly insane, completely different lives- but when we do see each other it’s a bit like a firework explosion. In the best way of course. And I’m not just talking about the noise.

Happiest of 21st, mela, and here’s to another eight years going strong.