Saturday afternoon, the spring roll was bored, so I strapped her into her bike (the kind that maman pushes from behind), and we took a walk. We ran into an acquaintance that I had not seen for a very long time. During our brief talk, she let drop that that night she was going to party at this very hip, very in club. I knew from the way she slipped that detail in when it had no connection at all to what we had been talking about, and also from knowing that she was just the kind of girl for whom these things are important, that it was her way of letting me know that she herself was now also very hip and very in.
On the walk back home, pushing the spring roll who was happily chanting "do-doh-doh," I remembered when I was also a bit like that. Just a bit, I swear, but because of my job and perhaps my youth, to a certain extent I also defined myself by where I got invited to and by who I hung out with when I got there. I felt very glad that I had left all that way behind.
Here then, in pictures, is a little summary of my not-at-all hip weekend existence:
I spent a couple of hours taking photos of our latest vintage finds.