Wine Renaissance Aesthetic

I have two #moods: shimmery and saturated. We can talk about saturated in March or something. Shimmery is the most important one at this time of year because the holiday time slowly intensifies it.

Shimmer \ˈshi-mə-riŋ, ˈshim-riŋ\

Intransative verb

  1. to shine with a soft tremulous or fitful light (glimmer)
  2. to reflect a wavering sometimes distorted visual image

At Thanksgiving, I usually stray away from shimmer. I wear brown eyeshadow and muted tones, MAYBE a forest green somewhere. Anything shiny comes from a Free People necklace or a polyester light-reflecting picture effect. But now it’s December 1st! And I can jump right back in.

Also I NEVER drink wine in the spring, summer, or fall. That is a very rare occurrence, only if I am somehow enticed by my cousin owning an expensive brand or something. I drink copious, copious amounts of wine in this month. I have finished two and a half bottles of Pinot Grigio since Thanksgiving. Which I also have decided is my favorite. And I think I’m actually going to buy champagne that does not cost thirteen dollars this year; let’s see how this goes.

Here’s a moodboard, completely taken from my tumblr:

I know, I know, there are very heavy Gossip Girl overtones; Blake Lively in particular. But she knows how to be shimmery! What can I say. Also, yes, there are about 4987203 pictures of Manhattan, but WHERE ELSE IN THE UNITED STATES IS THE HOLIDAY SEASON SO MAGICAL?! Maybe in a small New England suburb, but that’s a whole other aesthetic. You can’t really wear a shimmery dress to a suburban holiday party (unless it’s the coastal/metropolitan elite) and not get a few looks. I will do it anyways as I do every year.

And, of course, no curated aesthetic goes without a playlist:

doses and mimosas ~ cherub // warm water – snakehips remix ~ banks // memories feat. kid cudi ~ david guetta // it’s strange – whethan remix ~ louis the child feat. k flay // weight in gold – louis futon remix ~ gallant // what you need ~ bank & nika // my type – saint wknd remix ~ saint motel // bloom – lane 8 remix ~ odesza // automatic ~ zhu & alunageorge // you know you like it – tchami remix ~ alunageorge // never be like you feat. kai ~ flume // falling – whethan redo ~ opia // wasted on you feat. rozes ~ louis futon // help me lose my mind ~ disclosure & london grammar // january – kaytranada edition ~ disclosure // gemini feat. george maple ~ what so not // smoke & retribution feat. vince staples & kucka ~ flume

That playlist is pretty high energy and very Soundcloud, so I’d recommend listening to it when you’re getting ready alone because no one can judge you for being really extra. If I ever have a winter rooftop rager with a bunch of rich influencers in Manhattan or Los Angeles, I’d play this and require everyone to wear a fur coat.

I’ll close off this post with a note in my phone I’ve been filling for a few months. These are words that remind me of this whole #mood; enjoy!

fragmented shimmery silver and gold starburst whizzing frothy deep sparkling crystalline pearls champagne flutes sweet liquid honey dry luminous eye shadow big silk scarves middle part cat eye west village view from the whitney gray white brown metropolitan lucent fine art auroral tiny cities glossy lips sanguine roses lustrous waxy refined rich agleam sequined structured flowing glitter

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I’m done being apathetic finally

December 2: I went into an apartment today, and all of the girls shared the same oats and brown sugar and flour in little jars on a table in the dining room. Everyone mostly agreed on what happened where. And sometimes they shared jeans. I spent five hours of my night in the theatre talking to different boys about how pure they are. I don’t know if they know what that means. And the best things happen unexpectedly.

December 3: The Skinny Pancake downtown smells good and it’s open and when I went in people were surrounded by little lights on dates. It’s so cold, my phone froze to death at 65 percent. I walked into the terminal station to charge it. It’s the first snowy weekend that everyone can ski. When I went to the lacrosse party everyone’s ski gear was out in a little pile in the corner of their basement.

December 4: The sun is shining and the mountains are yellow and white. I am at Muddy Waters. They don’t have wifi, which is annoying, but I’m using a free trial from Xfinity. I got a house chai latte and I’m going to write a little and do some chemistry. The piano kicked in, Lonely by Mean Lady, and I started crying. My latte is cold and I think I’m going to stay here.

Monday Monday

Finals. It’s under thirty eight degrees the rest of the week. My coffee cups are stained and the brims are salted with natural sugar, my lipstick is smudging on the edge of my forks and spoons and traveling to my chin. Two a.m. showers are becoming more frequent and I am writing more in the margins of my calculus notes than ever before.

Wanderer Wandering – Slow Club

17 – Youth Lagoon

Nothing’s Gonna Hurt You Baby – Cigarettes After Sex

This Must Be the Place – Talking Heads

These Days – Nico

Cherry – Chromatics

Rosa – Grimes

I Want to See the Bright Lights Tonight – Richard  and Linda Thompson

I Need Fun in My Life – The Drums

You Make Me Wanna Die – The Shivas

Wall Fuck – Flume

This is a song

Heavy metal drummer – Wilco

Playing With Fire – Nick Leng

Lust for Life – Girls

California Stars (Live) – Wilco

The Russian house smells like really cheap perfume, strawberry vape, and cigarettes. It’s starting to seep into my clothing. My roommate cleaned the sink over break. I forgot how nice it was to go to bed completely clean, slicked down in coconut oil in a big t-shirt. I’m feeling more and more like I can do it. I eat cereal in my Dave’s Coffee mug with almond milk I should probably refrigerate.

This doesn’t feel final like the tests suggest. This feels like a transition. The card deck is shuffling. The boy in my spanish class seems more like a dream every day I don’t try to talk to him. He goes off to a dining hall and I stop to buy pita bread and coffee downstairs before I go to my last chem lab. He is from my favorite city, he listens to Mac Demarco. His jacket is the same as Wyatt’s in a more cobalt blue than Michael’s. Sometimes I stop back in my room to put on eyeliner, to wash my hands, just to make sure that if he ever wants to talk to me my eyes aren’t so small and my hands show no signs of an inked home countdown.

Today I opened a can of chickpeas with a screwdriver and accidentally poured corrosive acid on my fresh papercut. Everything is grey and dark and feels like a saltwater pool. My lipstick shed onto my spoons and coffee cups and cheese block. Sixteen more days. But it’s not so bad.