Ciao for now, London!

Hello, Aus summer (and other personal reflections from the sky)

Hello.

Agenda for today’s letter: Personal musings and reflections from the sky.

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This week, I’m coming to you from above the clouds. I’m currently on my way from London to Dubai. Well, technically, I’m en route to Melbourne. But naturally, this journey happens in two parts.

I may regret this. Working and writing while flying. Usually, I like to spend my airborne hours in a soft half-daze, alternating between a podcast and the soothing tones of London Grammar. But this time, I’ve somehow been granted a luxurious amount of space that makes working not only possible but almost enjoyable? Plus, I have a solid 24 hours ahead of me, and when I land I’ll be deep in the throes of jet lag for a few days, so I figured: why not get a jump on things.

Me rn

Recently, I had a look at the numbers of our gorgeous Office community and was delighted (and genuinely shocked) to see there are almost a thousand of us here. 66% of you are from Australia, 16% from the UK, 10% from the US. And then, of course, there are our gorgeous members tuning in from France, Germany, Stockholm, Vietnam, and other corners of the world.

We’re a gorg bunch. Editors and writers across Dazed, Paper, GQ (US), British Vogue – I see you. Heavenly photographers and creative directors. Lawyers, founders, marketers. (And yes, I did do a sufficient stalk of email addresses and LinkedIn profiles, just in case you were wondering.)

All this to say: a solid portion of you, like me, herald from the glorious land of Aus. And, therefore, understand the particular flight situation of “going home”. For our northern-hemisphere friends – who think the breezy seven-hour Heathrow to JFK hop is “long haul” – travelling back to Aus is… a journey. I’ve done this route at least once a year for the past fifteen years. Often twice. Sometimes even three times in a single twelve months.

In spite of this journey, which so far has been quite nice, I’m very excited to go home. I’ve been in London for almost two years now, but Australia is most definitely home.

<3 (Source: Pinterest)

My relationship to London has evolved a lot over these two years. I always wanted to live overseas, but I never specifically felt called to London. It was an ex who brought me there. Now, it’s work, friends, and a genuine love for the city that make me stay.

At the beginning, I was bright-eyed and bushy-tailed. I had that unabashed reverence for the city that is so customary of expats when they first arrive. It could do no wrong. It was an abundant playground. Dark and gloomy, yes – but home to people, places and experiences so surreal I could only have dreamed of them before.

That loyal reverence for the city has shifted over time. I still love it, but I’m definitely wearier. I’ve seen more of its underbelly. Cities like this one can change people. It’s easy to get caught up in it – the status, the money, the ego. It’s a city where those things aren’t just present, they’re rewarded. The transactional dance of what can you do for me and what can I do for you can get old. The silent scorekeeping of how many followers do you have and how cool is your outfit today gets tiring. The way it can amplify these behaviours in people, contorting once-solid values into something soft and malleable – sometimes leaving them unrecognisable to loved ones within a few years.

I suppose this is customary of every city. Each comes with its good and its bad. And for London, there are still so many parts I adore. I love that it’s fast-paced and exhilarating, but still more chill than New York. I love that it’s global and creative, but somehow more grounded than Paris. It’s home to truly amazing humans I’m lucky to call gorgeous friends. My personal (and professional) evolution is a direct result of living there. It’s wild how quickly it becomes normal. How easy it is to forget.

Over the past month, I’ve traipsed my belongings across the city – from my old flat in the East, to my friend’s place in the West, to a storage unit (location: undisclosed). I’ve taken black cabs past tourists photographing Big Ben and Westminster Abbey; rushed past crowds (riskily) photographing Oxford Circus and Tottenham Court Road.

This is the backdrop to my life.
Where I meet friends for dinner.
Where I lament over a break-up.
Where I date. Work. Train. Dine.

I live in London.
I live in London.

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I’ve only ever stayed for one full winter…