Birthday Blues

Sezane dress
Diego’s espadrilles (similar)
Zara sunglasses (similar)
Wolf Circus necklace (similar)
Delphine Pariente ring (similar)
Madewell rings
Urban Outfitters earrings (similar)
Location: Corte Realdi Apartments – Verona, Italy

By the time I was on the cusp of turning thirteen – it was 1998, and my big plan for my celebration was to watch the movie Spice World – my birthday had become a source of stress rather than excitement. By September 24, less than four weeks after the start of the school year, new friendships were scarcely solidified. Should I take a risk, and invite everyone I’d been spending time with to my birthday party, knowing some of them might decline to come? Or should I play it safe and invite only friends from the previous school year? The question weighed heavily on my mind every year. And every year, almost without fail, I chose to play it safe.

That isn’t to say I didn’t throw birthday parties. I did. I have silly pictures with my high school friends, more or less the same group each year, with a few new faces occasionally popping up, from every birthday annual celebration. But when high school ended, I found myself in a new place again, with new friends. Friends who might not be as close as I thought they were. And my birthday felt anxiety-inducing rather than exciting all over again.

Years went by, as they have a way of doing, without my really noticing. My birthdays – twenty-two, twenty-six, twenty-eight – began to feel less like milestones worthy of a lot of pomp and circumstance. When friends asked, “Are you throwing a party this year?” I questioned, quite seriously, why I would. After all, parties have always caused me turmoil, and that doesn’t seem like much of a way to celebrate.

And then, suddenly, in 2014, the mystery of how to handle my inevitable yearly birthday solved itself. A friend got married in Hawaii on September 23, and we traveled to Honolulu for the occasion. With suitcases to pack, planning a party was the furthest thing from my mind. I celebrated with Ian in Hawaii and that was all I needed. The idea of planning a gathering after we got back never crossed my mind and, much to my surprise, no one really asked if I planned to. It almost seemed to good to be true. But the next year, unintentionally, we planned another trip over the week of my birthday – this time, to New York. And again, it was the same thing. I planned to party and since my birthday had passed by the time I returned, no one asked.

In the past four years, we’ve traveled for my birthday, or at least within a week of it, every year. It’s the best decision I’ve ever made. Wherever we are – this year it was Verona, where these photos were taken – we throw a party for two. And the next day, life goes on, as it should, because really, I’m only another day older.

Of all the places I’ve spent my birthday in the last five years, Verona was a favourite. Warm, sunny and utterly charming, but sleepy and devoid of pressure to do anything specific. We drank champagne and took a walk. To get more champagne. And then we sat on the balcony to drink it, well into the evening. Eventually, we got pizza. As parties go, I really couldn’t have asked for a better one.