Our days back then consisted of nothing except bath taking, baking and so much laughter. We had lists of things that needed to be done and we were fraught with expectations but time stood still in those days.
Donning short shorts and heavy necklaces, we relished in our angst and reveled in our daily obsession. We read Keats’s poetry in the bathtub, surrounded by bubbles and feet and baked all night, going to bed with frosting on our cheeks and cinnamon under our nail beds.
It was a summer with an immeasurable number of days and endless nights. It was a moment in our lives that moved to the time of the comets; one where we were immersed in uncertainties and engulfed by the sense of the ending of such unrepeatable days.
Story credits: Images via Vogue Paris and Marie Claire China.