Cecily: If I told you I were a “Moment Creator” would you think me pretentious as fuck?
work
Two friends, on a manicure.
Christian: Are you enjoying your manicure?
Cecily: I am still at work, so one could say it’s still in its ideation phase.
Cecily, on work culture.
Cecily: In Paris, there is no such concept as “watercooler conversation”. It’s called a communal cigarette break. And it can happen up to thirty times a day. Note to self: spend salary on cigarettes, ergo, increase end of year bonus. Je fume, donc je suis.
Cecily, on herself.
Cecily: Horizontal mobility would suit me just as well as upward mobility in this life. I have already reached a level of refinement and class unrivalled, and now I seek to enrich my experience, broadly and without apology.
Charles, on the terrace.
Charles, on politics.
Two friends, on being cock-eyed enough.
Charles: Having someone work for you changes your perspective on the world.
Cecily: Yes. I need an assistant. And a mansion in Saint Germain. Then my perspective will be well enough cock-eyed to live my best life.
Two friends, on narrative.
Cecily: I go through silly extremes. Last year, I worked myself to the bone physically and emotionally. Then, I was a voracious shopper, in glittering boots and Serbian rabbit furs. Then I became a restless housewife, befriended by laundry and experimental stews. The continuum of my life is so fractured, and my dominant personality traits shift so frequently. This is one of the reasons I crave marriage. It seems like necessary connective tissue in the narrative of my life. Thing is, I’m not sure if real life is supposed to have a narrative arc.
Xavier: It’s not. And if we treat ourselves like we’re fictional characters, then it will rarely be with any sort of actual justice or understanding. It will be a series of grand sweeping gestural things, and unrealistic narrativising. Leave that to other people to do about you.
Cecily: But narrative smoothness in life might help. Might help me keep a tabs on how I’m doing as a human. I feel kind of like a fish. A fish with nowhere to go, in a really fancy hat.