Required Reading. I am in the midst of one of those weeks that is low on sleep, high on coffee and worries and tears. When life gets like this I start to wonder if maybe, just maybe, I should have chosen to be someone else, some other version of myself. This piece somehow understands that. Hallie Cantor’s “Types of Women I Could Be, But Am Not“.
I could be a woman who works at a cozy coffee shop where the baked goods are actually good. My warm smile would offer my customers a tiny emotional oasis from the bustling “rat race” of their regular lives. I would have only a few tattoos, and they’d be really good ones. I would do that thing with my hair where you sort of roll up a bandana and use it as a headband, but it wouldn’t be lumpy; it would actually look cute. I would have some eccentric crafty hobby — whatever’s less mainstream than cross-stitching. Maybe pastels, or macramé.
I could be a woman who works at an art gallery in Chelsea and looks like a Swiss model. I guess I’d have to stop eating for this one, but it’s okay because I would receive nourishment from other people’s envy. I would only wear leather shorts, in all weather conditions. I would do that thing with my hair where you braid the front along your hairline and look like Hot Heidi. I would have a dog so small, some people would not be able to see it with the naked eye.
I could be a woman who is married. I would live in Manhattan and make my husband take pictures of me for my SoulCycle outfit blog. I would do that thing with my hair where you get a professional blowout once a week and it somehow lasts all week even though you’re constantly working out. I would put almond butter in EVERYTHING.
I could be a woman who works for a nonprofit. I would have frequent dinner parties where everyone stays for hours after dinner, drinking wine and discussing politics in their socks. I would do that thing with my hair where you dye it gray to show that you don’t care about your appearance but also that you can appear young and pretty even with gray hair. I would be frustrated by the inefficiencies of the nonprofit world, but also secure in the certainty that I am doing my small part to make things better. I would own more scarves than shirts.
I could be a woman who lives outside New York City. I would have a house. I would have a vegetable garden and large dogs and no friends. I would only ever use two hands (both poking out of the coziest oversize sweater in existence) to drink out of mugs. I would do that thing with my hair where it naturally curls into a feminine mane that never frizzes, like a pre-season-two-haircut Felicity. I would meditate eight times a day.