SELF-TIMER DIARY 04
On Christmas we wear black and other notes from this week
Welcome to the last SELF-TIMER DIARY of 2025!
It’s been an absolute pleasure working on this series this year. For as long as I’ve been on the internet, I’ve felt this pressure to constantly come up with new ideas and create different types of content but this year I’ve really come to understand how much of my joy around being on the internet disappears when I start thinking about producing content. What I was really desperate for was a formula––and I’ve struck the perfect balance between sharing my outfits and sharing snippets of my life in this series. It’s never felt like a chore and I’ve enjoyed every moment of it.
The inspiration for the holiday edition was Whit Stillman’s Metropolitan (1990), old Laura Ashley party dresses, Catherine Deneuve’s hair, Yves Saint Laurent’s 1966 smoking suit and my own closet. As always, thank you for everything and enjoy.
Sunday, December 14th
I want to walk around every home I’ve ever lived in starting with my college house. I want to see the little house in Shoreline where my sister and I shared a room and the house in Greenlake at 7818 Ashworth Avenue N to know if the new owners finished the basement or if they allowed the crack in the wall behind my bed to keep growing. I want a pair of jeans that never get holes and the courage to always say what’s on my mind. I want to become a stronger swimmer, rewatch The Godfather trilogy and find the perfect pillbox hat. I want to know if everything will work out and if my feet will grow during pregnancy. I don’t want to get rid of all my shoes. I want to get better at responding to my text messages. I want to think martinis are gross forever just to prove that not everything has to grow on me. I want a table large enough to invite everyone I love over for dinner at once, to go to India and take a train across the United States.
Tuesday, December 16th
Eddie called me yesterday while I was at work to tell me he got into medical school. His excitement reverberated through the phone and two of my coworkers were yelling congratulations before he could even finish. I texted him to meet me at Grand Central Station at 5:30 pm for a celebratory drink. I dodged patches of snow and rushed down to midtown as quickly as I could. The Campbell didn’t have space so we shouldered our way through the rush of evening commuters to the Oyster Bar.
We took seats across from one another and the excitement of good news swirled between us. Should I get the one with dark rum or the gin? What neighborhood would you want to move to? How close do you want to be? Should we get an appetizer? It would be best to have space for a separate desk. What would your dream travel plans look like? What about the calamari with marinara? Who is our waiter? It’s really so beautiful here. Can you believe that someday we will both be doctors? What about the mezcal Negroni? There’s a piece of turkey meat stuck to the side of the table cloth next to us. Oh god, gross. I am so proud of you. It would be nice to have space for a proper dining table. Do you think that’s our waiter? Should we head out? We might be late if we don’t leave soon.
We scurried out of the station and ran down Lexington on our way to the Morgan Library. There wasn’t a trace of snow on the ground and we were both shocked by how quickly they had gotten rid of the evidence. On the corner of Park Ave and E 37th St I pulled off my snow boots, put on my mary janes, and slipped off the wool pants I had put on over my tights. I dotted my lips with dark plum lipstick in the reflection of the doors. We checked our coats and someone handed me a sticker to wear that said Sophia Dowling @sophdowl. The bartender told us it was light beverages only tonight, I ordered white wine and he ordered Prosecco.
We wandered around the perimeter of the room, glasses in hand, and admired the dark old wood, the red silk wallpaper and absent-mindedly whispered about the beautiful bindings on the old books. We both secretly wished to resume our conversation about the future so we stayed long enough to hear about the original manuscript of Charles Dickens The Christmas Carol and then slipped out to eat Chipotle in the Empire State Building before heading home.
Thursday, December 18th
(I update the same document each month with a list of items that I currently want and the date. I like to see what I’m thinking about from month to month and year to year–almost everything I wanted 10 years ago has returned to the list.)
A pair of Miu Miu S/S 2010 cat print trousers—I used to prefer the naked lady print but now that I have a white cat I can’t resist anything with a white cat on it. Bella Freud’s Je t’aime Jane sweater. Any of those knee high mod-ass boots from Yves Saint Laurent F/W 2014 but preferably the all silver glitter. Ballet pink tights from Los Angeles Apparel. Molly Goddard leopard print jeans and this Hattie Carnegie leopard print hat. An old Sonic Boom t-shirt because it was where I bought my first album (Lady Gaga’s The Fame, 4th grade, age 10), an agnes b. snap cardigan and more very fabulous barrettes.
Friday, December 19th
I flew to Portland yesterday. I couldn’t afford to book a flight without a layover––I don’t remember what the choices were—probably Minneapolis or Chicago but I chose Palm Springs. For four weeks I’ve looked forward to my layover in the desert. I walked directly off the plane and found a seat on a bench, peeled off my New York layers and turned my head up to the sky so I could feel the sun on my face. Men in Hawaiian shirts and old women with strict ideas about airport attire walked by in their tweed Chanel jackets. I looked at the Indian Canyon, the palm trees, and the planes on the tarmac getting ready to leave and suddenly had the urge to cry. I am always moved by the candidness of the desert and when I think about fleeing and taking refuge it’s always somewhere where Bougainvillea grow.
I called Eddie to tell him that my flight was uneventful, that I got peppermint tea and cranberry juice, I fell asleep for an hour and watched Sleepless in Seattle and You’ve Got Mail one after the other. I told him about the man in front of me who opened up his Rimowa to reveal nothing but the largest laptop I’ve ever seen and a Play Station 5 and the disheveled child behind me clutching her very own personal popcorn vomit bucket. I told him that I loved him and took a seat at the bar and ordered a Coachella IPA. I sipped my beer slowly and watched the sky turn the color of roses and the sun slip behind the canyon just in time for my flight.
I have one last thing planned for you before the end of the year. Merry Christmas and Happy New Year. All my love,
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really enjoyed getting to see everything you’ve put out this year! i followed you on tiktok long ago but deleted it, and thought i would never get to see your brilliant outfits again. cheers, happy holidays!