There is a moment when you board a plane on the way home from a long summer holiday, you take your seat, buckle up, lights are dimmed for take-off, and you gaze through that tiny hole at the bottom of the window in utter silence. Your fate is in the hands of the pilot, while you are devoid of everything – all you have is residues: the tan you got in ST.TROPEZ, the postcard you purchased in BARCELONA, the sunset you watched in MYKONOS, and the tunes that got stuck in your head from the closing parties in IBIZA.
It was the summer we stayed up all night to GET LUCKY, blasted off to bed and all we could see is BLURRED LINES before the fiesta turned into a siesta and we thought to ourselves, “WAKE ME UP WHEN IT’S ALL OVER.”
It is the very moment when you realize that the fun time is over. FALL is when things fall back into place. You will sit at your desk the next morning and tell your stories to your coworkers, while everything would seem so diaphanous, so distant and surreal. All the I MISS YOUs and WISH YOU WERE HEREs are only encrypted in your memory. You were on a virtual flight to LA LA LAND.
I’ve always hated that moment. Some call it SUMMERTIME SADNESS, others call it POST-HOLIDAY BLUES. But I’ve also learnt to live with it. Because once you’re up in the air, there is a certain feeling of closure – and that in itself is comforting. The lights will be on again, you’ll be free to leave your seat, have a little chitchat with the stranger next to you – and when you run out of things to say about the war or the weather – you’ll reach out for your carry on and pull out votre plaisir coupable: the latest issue of PLASTIK*.
It is that moment.
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