Lorde email
Daydreaming
It’s midsummer. It was a pool day, but the light is starting to fade and people are getting hungry, so I change out of my swimsuit into something light, a vintage Dries slip maybe, apply a slick of tinted gloss, and start laying out little dishes of Castelvetrano olives and pickled fennel and sardines and this sheep’s cheese called Devotion, isn’t that a great name for a cheese, and rummage around in the fridge for what to cook.
The garden is exploding, a riot of flowers and bees, the small space seeming taller than it is wide. Someone turns on the festoon bulbs that overhang the swimming pool, and music starts to play. Everyone switches to mezcal. I walk outside to the Weber, light it, feel the house and garden start to subtly change gears. I grill zucchini and halloumi and too-juicy nectarines, watching the char marks darken. Tall beeswax candles are lit. The lady of the house consumes an edible. Someone puts on an old song, someone else says, “Oh my God, I haven’t heard this since (…)” Two girls standing up by the piano start to dance, holding their hands out to each other, laughing — it’s just dinner on a summer’s night, but the world is just starting to tilt. Later, we’ll all be faded dancing in each other’s arms somewhere, but for now everything’s still light, shoes are off and sundresses are on and the night is all potential.
That’s how the show is gonna feel.
Anyway, here’s the presale code: strangeairlines
L x
