Since the time I've had my very first website decades ago, so much has changed about the internet and how we show up online. Shiny object syndrome and a forever identity crisis means I’ve tried it all, various platforms and bio variations and labels to try to perfectly encapsulate what it is I do.

I’m going a bit behind the scenes to share some of what’s been going on internally over the past few months. And maybe this doesn’t fit into any plan, but you know what, sometimes I really hate strategy.

One of the nights that I spent climbing out of a half-dream I was there at the Eiffel Tower looked at it for all of three seconds and it—the surround sound, the smell of stale Pulp, a thousand deadly sins—it was like I was in a casket with stars for a ceiling, laying still though legs moving seeing midnight blue for the first time and not just black masquerading as blue; the colour of romance is always the colour you haven’t seen before.

Of the many killer lines Miranda Priestly artfully delivers in the film version of The Devil Wears Prada—putting cerulean and the economics of materiality onto the map for the rest of us—one of my favorites comes near the end.