WILLOW Australia

Amsterdam. 2004. Fourth of July weekend.

Side note: Isn't is strange to spend the 4th in

a foreign country? Or is it strange to celebrate

when nobody else is? Either way...

I have a memory of a favorite morning.

We were staying in an angular, bizarre hotel

room with purple walls (think Prince) and I

happened to wake up early. Very early. I didn't

want to go back to sleep, so I threw on a

summer dress, my favorite green heathered

cardigan that I stole from my sister (thanks K!),

grabbed the new VOGUE and headed to the park.

It was around 5am and the entire neighborhood

was consumed by a thick mist, not a fog, a mist.

I flipflopped my way down a path, nothing but

time on my hands. I came to a tree with a trunk

like a ladder. At the top there were multiple

chair-like branches, so I decided to climb up and

have a read. It was incredible. It was me, a few

joggers, and that refreshing space of nature in

the midst of the city. It was also one of those

moments where you think, if life's lead me here,

I must be doing something right.

The reason I mention this story is because

when I look at these clothes by Willow,

it reminds me that beautiful clothes should

be worn for mornings spent in trees with

slightly dirty feet and a magazine. There

are prescribed contexts for attire, but who

wrote those rules? Fancy dress in a tree:

no better place for it. Nothing should be so

precious in life that we can't enjoy it while

we've got it.

Willow is one more reason

I am dying to get to Australia.

I want to go and think I'm

never coming back.