Ever Since New York [h.s au]

18

Mornings were for spin class. My closet now contained multiple matching workout sets that I'd coordinate with Eloise and Margot. Together we would sweat out all of the alcohol and food we consumed the previous day. The two of them would leave for work, and I would go to a pilates class.

The mid day was for French lessons. Being fully immersed in the culture, and being friends with natives enhanced my learning far more than any lessons would. I had to communicate with the bartenders and taxi drivers after the club every night. Being drunk and trying to speak a new language isn't a good combination. I was top of my class, as I still thrived off academic validation.

Afternoons were one of my favorite parts of the day. It was my exploring time with Theó. He promised to show me only the best places in Paris, and he delivered. I was walking through art galleries, museums, and going to parks that only local Parisians knew about. More importantly I was gaining a new understanding of fashion on our outings. I discovered that there are two types of fashion: day time and club time. Eloise and Margot were helping me master the club, but it was Theó who was adept at street fashion. We went to the most amazing vintage shops, and boutiques. He helped me people watch for inspiration. Most importantly, he taught me that if you're going to put something on your body, why not make it look good? People think clothing is frivolous, but it can really instill courage, and that's a good thing.

Theó was also my personal photographer and Instagram manager. He taught me how to get the photo without revealing too much about where I was, the angles that flattered me most, and the overall aesthetic of my feed. Without him, my nearly 500k followers would be hypothetical. Brands were reaching out, he knew which ones I should and shouldn't work with. Even with all of the photos of me and my friends living in Paris, I still received thousands of comments about Harry. He was still on my feed, but with my now daily posts, those photos were so far down my feed. Hardly anyone saw them.

The evenings were something to savor. There was a comfort in getting ready to go out, that is, only if one leaves ample time to get ready. This allows for a slow, gradual increase in serotonin.

The four of us rotated hosting for getting ready, but no matter the apartment the ritual was always the same. Music that gave a sense of anticipation for the unknown, as we never went into the night with a real plan. Drinks that took off the edge, but gave us the buzz we needed to slip into our lascivious outfits. Dancing, to loosen ourselves for the long walks to the clubs, we refused to pay for uber or a taxi. Most importantly, prepping ourselves for the morning. When I wasn't hosting our get ready's, this happened before. A glass of water and Advil by the bed, face wash and makeup remover next to the sink, and an unmade bed ready to be slept in.

This routine was repeated until I'd spent nearly two full months in Paris. I kept my computer dead, under the bed. I was logged out of my email on my phone. Unless someone already had my phone number the only way to reach me was Instagram.

I truly thought this was the proper way to live. Being constantly hungover, going out every night, and exploring the city. My bank account was still plenty full thanks to Columbia Records. If I saved properly, I'd never have to work another day in my life.

Unfortunately, Thursday ruined that. I dreaded Thursdays, which made Wednesdays tense, and Fridays exuberant. I drank considerably more on Thursdays, and my Instagram got far more activity from the extra posts it received. Thursday's were the days that previously started my weekends in the studio, the day that started my favorite part of the week. I refused to admit to myself, but I missed the studio and my friends. I missed Harry, but mostly, I missed writing songs.

On one particular Thursday, I poured myself a glass of wine from my always stocked bar cart, and forced myself to plug in my computer. I drank two glasses while I waited for it to fully charge. I logged into my email. There were responses from several publishers, I opened the first one and started with the words "We regret to inform you."