Semi auto-biographical story, characters named after 2 very ifluencial people. Let me know if you like reading and I will post more. XOXO
She hears her best friend’s car as it rolls over the gravel in her driveway. A crunching, loose sound she’s so used to hearing from her upstairs bedroom, big windows open to let in whatever breeze in the stifling heat. She throws the last things she needs into the huge bag she made last week out of a Native American blanket and rushes out the door, barefoot, ponytail, last night’s hair. These girls know summer very well, they wait for it, like they wait for love, all winter. Summer is not just a season to these girls, it’s more than holidays, beaches, sunny weather, more than just heat. It’s barefoot on the cement as you rush through the sprinklers like when you were a kid, it’s bikinis on the floor of the shower and strewn over the hot and cold taps, it’s ripping pages of makeup and products from vogue and pasting them into large, blank notebooks to share and read together on a blanket in the grass. It’s the smell of the grill, friends laughing, chopping pineapple and skewering shrimp, it’s stringing Christmas lights over the backyard and turning them on at night to lie under and talk about boyfriends. It’s sand in the bed after a long day at the beach, stretching out in a vintage one piece on a quilt made from patches of your favorite colors, reading Weetzie Bat out loud and waiting for the boys to come and share the shade of your umbrella. It’s the taste of salt from the ocean as you rinse off under the outdoor showers, turning your head upside down and letting the fresh water pour down your face.
“Look what I foouuund!” Lucy holds up a very scratched CD with the words, Boys Hate me scrawled loosely in black sharpie. Tammy remembers this mix very well from 5 years ago when she’d burned it, bored at work, gathering nostalgic music on itunes instead of organizing the inventory like her boss had asked her.
“OMG! Boys hate me! The mix that got me fired.”
“I know, I found it stuffed down the side of my seat under, like, under a 5 year old empty gas station sandwich wrapper.”
“IF I can get it to play…” Lucy stuffs it in her CD player and they chant in unison, “read it read it read it” to which it spits the CD out. After the 6th time and some manual force, it skips on the first song but works perfect on the 2nd song, Dream- “He loves me, he loves you not”. Tammy had titled the CD Boys hate me, not over angst of boys hating her, but rather over the fact that boys would hate both of them after being subjected to this mix. Song titles including:
Brandy- sittin on top of the world
Britney- The beat goes on
Mandy Moore- Candy
Destiny’s Child- Say my name
Daniel Beddingfield- Gotta get through this (oh the irony)
B2k- Bump Bump Bump
Backstreet Boys- I want it that way
Get the picture?
Bumper to bumper on the 101, windows down, feet out, they think about how far they’ve come since burning that mix. That mix had been for new faces, new dreams, insecurities, style faux pas, homeless nights spent in the Jeep, changing from a wardrobe in the trunk, crashing in their friends Bev’ Hills pad. It had been a year about change, growing up, and new beginnings. Now, everything was different. This Summer would be the first time they’d stood on their own, no one to hold them back, creativity finally a serious part of their lives. They fly down the PCH, salty wind, whipping hair, sunglasses, denim cutoffs, big T shirts, laughing, singing at the top of their lungs as Malibu scrolls past them like a set in a movie. The beach is filled with surfers and brown girls roasting on their towels. Lucy shakes out a bright pink, knit blanket and stuffs a white umbrella in the sand. They remember this feeling. It’s cold crab legs at Paradise Cove, with big bloody Mary’s and cute waiters working their way through school, it’s blending smoothies and the sound of ice breaking, spilling drops down an oversized, grey tank top. It’s sandals in the front yard left out all night, long dresses that slip from your shoulders and make you trip as you run through the house. It’s best friends on pillows on the floor, crowded around a small TV to watch old Goldie Hawn and Brigitte Bardot movies. It’s getting stuck on Hollywood BLVD in front of Grauman's Chinese Theater, surrounded by tourists taking pictures of the crack heads in Superman costumes. It’s an air-conditioned bedroom in a big house, windows shaded by pretty fabrics you’ve pinned into the walls and your friends hiding from the sun on your cool sheets. It’s summer, and it’s only just beginning. Forget about heartbreak, forget about backstabbing, forget about sad moments, angry parents, lonely nights, here it is just them and the ocean, stretching out to nowhere and everywhere all at once.
Emily reminded me of these great pictures of Sasha from ages ago, best shoot ever award. magazine: Vogue Paris March 2008 editorial: Eau de Rose photographer: Inez & Vinoodh styling: Emmanuelle Alt model: Sasha Pivovarova.