Personal Style | No Place To Be Alone

I snagged these super spiffy purple pants at the big goodwill downtown and now their one of my new favorites. The color, the fit, and the amazing embroidered details on the belt loops are all so perfect I can’t get over it. And, to top off their perfection, they seem to go so splendidly with so many things I already own. For example, this vintage top with its red, gold, black and purple stripes accents them so splendidly. Threw on my trusty red flats and my ubiquitous denim jacket and felt like the classiest of ladies.

 

I snapped these photos on the steps of a staircase in Golden Gate Park that I thought might grant me a little privacy, since its a bit hidden at the back of a field and nestled amongst trees. But as soon as I pulled my camera out it seemed to become a primary thoroughfare. So I sucked up my chagrin at being the strange girl taking pictures of herself in the park and managed to capture these images in between pedestrians.

This might be my only real complaint about living in the city. As a child of the mountains, I am unused to having such a difficult time finding a bit of seclusion. The city is no place to be alone. I live in a house with four other people, on a street constantly mobbed with tourists and transients alike. I work a job where one of my primary duties is to be gregarious and charming, and while I love my roommates, my city, and my profession, at times it can be a bit much to be always “on” for someone. At times, a body just wants a bit of solace. And finding a moment to be alone is an entirely different thing in the city than it is in the mountains, where the solitude of nature can be reached within steps of ones front door.

{blouse | vintage a perfect match}{pants | vintage Mo Hee}{flats | thrifted MIA}{jacket | vintage Climate Control}

Here, you must seek silence. You must hunt for it like a lost set of keys. Finding a quiet spot to think, or read, or take photos, or just sit in contemplation is a rare respite from a city thrumming with curiosity about it’s inhabitants. Most often, one finds their solitude in the crowds. In the anonymity of being a member of this teaming metropolis. By sitting quietly on the train without making eye contact, secluding yourself with head phones and far-away stares. But finding a true moment of isolation, of pure aloneness, is rare.