It's been an exhausting couple of days in Montreal. We stepped off our flight from La Guardia around noon on Thanksgiving day as snow was falling all around. There's something so romantic and peaceful about that dusting of white over everything.
Everyone here is gorgeous, the women on the streets with their beautiful long coats and the men all sharply dressed in armani designer splendour. It's hard to be in this city and not be consumed by desire for expensive things and I can't deny that feeling of absolute confidence that walking down the street in impeccably tailored clothes can give you, but I can't wait to be back in Seattle and be in a room where I know with certainty that I'm better dressed then the men. Why is it that these things can affect me when I know they shouldn't? I had a conversation with IW and she said that she feels happy just having window shopped, just having tried on nice things. I wish I had the same positive feelings about the experience, but it's usually just a sad reminder of things that I can't have or as IW puts it, things that I 'choose' not to buy.
I think I'm homesick.
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