First Times

I think First Times are some of the best stories. Telling them. Hearing them. My first kiss (way wetter than I'd have preferred), my first trek through Yosemite, my first outfit from Anthropologie, or my first realization my values weren't everyone else's. There's something about First Times that makes us smile, roll our eyes, or nod our head grateful for the experience. Firsts are SO great, I thought I'd share some of mine with you in this new blog series, "First Times". 

Whether you can relate to my firsts or have completely different experiences (and if you do I would love to hear about them in the comments) or are inspired to have your first [fill in the blank] based on my own stories, I hope these are sweet to read. So here's my very FIRST First Times. Bahaha. Enjoy. 

The first time I heard Bon Iver....

....was a soft and twinkly night in college. It was an Autumn California night-- warm and whimsical (the kind of night I've realized you can't find anywhere else but California). Perfection.

My apartment window was open to a sweet breeze, curtains gently moving. I was getting dressed for a "Yacht Club" event at the pool just outside my apartment door. There weren't going to be any yachts, expensive alcohol (much less, ANY alcohol) wasn't going to be served, and nobody needed a membership to attend. It was, however, going to be fancy and social. And THOSE two words are my hashtags. It really did seem dreamy.

I'd tell you to close your eyes and imagine this next paragraph, but then you wouldn't be able to read it, so close your eyes after you read it and catch the vibes of the night: Attire was black and white. It was Casa Blanca meets California Country Club. Palm trees and railings of our apartment courtyard were covered in Christmas lights. Candles were floating in the pool. Mason jars were everywhere. An old silent movie projected against a wall. The beautiful calm and low lights before the orchestra plays. 

The party had been in the works all day and we’d opened our windows to listen to the music they’d begun to play to set the ambiance. There’s nothing like getting all dressed up while the party and it’s melodies build outside. The fancy beckons. The romance of the twinkle calls.

I stood in front of my mirror, staring at myself in my black and white dress when I heard it.

The song.

It called me into the living room, straight to the open window. I peaked out at the magical array of lights and that stellar smog-strewn night sky…and just listened. It felt like the breeze had carried that song right into our living room.

I couldn’t quite nail the feeling of it all, but I knew that song was for the night.

It was for the experience and the wonder. It was sweet significance. It was the possibility of falling in love. It was walking through the party slowly and alone, enjoying the dream in the air. It was laughing with my friends, hugging people I’d seen in class earlier as if I hadn’t seen them in ages, and looking at cute boys with searching eyes.

It was Skinny Love.

To this day, it’s one of my favorite firsts.