Soho House New York

Today I turn 52, an inauspicious birthday if ever there were one. It’s a rainy, cold day here in NYC and everyone’s crabby on the trains and streets. Everyone, that is, but me because no matter what I absolutely adore birthdays, especially mine. To me, the real new year starts on the solar return—what we ass-trologists call a birthday—so I celebrate by doing only what I want to do, especially since that sets the tone for the whole year. Todays that entails sitting in front of a fire with a dear bestie, writing, drinking tea and whiskey, planning the next stage of our brilliant careers, and marveling over how lucky we are to still be here and see what comes next. Yes, even in the broken beautiful magic that is 2023. Tonight I’ll have dinner with a long-lashed beau, tomorrow I’ll speed into the mermaid woods (Provincetown, baby dolls), and this coming month I’ll spend my sabbatical writing and reading by fires to cultivate my own. All to say that middle age is the ultimate blessing---the time line but a tapestry on your wall, friends 30 years younger and older, and love and life fully and finally on your terms. AKA just what the metaphysician ordered, even as the world tries to write you off. #dowagerchic #spacecrone #52isthenew50 #middleagedmagic #bruchabruja #metaphysicianhealthyself