In a World of Impermanence, I’ll Always Have Paris
I have never felt further from a former version of myself as I do now, here, today.
This is Hemlines, a column byTabitha Blankenbilleron dresses, identity, and how fashion reflects who we are—and who we might become.
Train Day—White Embroidered Scarf, Black Travel Coat, Leggings
Rick Steves Paris
You can wear it in Paris
This won’t be your last time in ParisYou are young and working hard and your life is just unfolding now, this life of seeing and doing and saying
no
Is it too much to wear an Eiffel Tower dress to the Eiffel Towercheck out
it’s for Paris
thank you for trying
I’ll always stay here
Tabitha Blankenbiller is the author of the debut essay collection Eats of Eden: A Foodoir, released from Alternating Current Press in March 2018. Her work has appeared in Tin House, Catapult, Electric Lit, The Rumpus, Narratively, Hobart, Barrelhouse, Bustle, Vol. 1 Brooklyn, and a number of other journals. She graduated from the Pacific University MFA program and lives outside of Portland, Oregon.
Enter your email address to receive notifications for author Tabitha Blankenbiller
Success!
Confirmation link sent to your email to add you to notification list for author Tabitha Blankenbiller
More by this author
Becoming an “It Girl” in the Las Vegas Body-con Dress
The back was nothing but a web of elastic straps, and the front wasn’t low-cut as much as it was nonexistent.
The Impossible Ideals of the “Writer’s Life”
This was the pact I made with my now and future self: to become the most successful writer that it was possible to be.
Strange Grief: On The Leftovers and Departure
“The undefined, complicated, unresolved trauma makes us messy—how do we tell our story without an ending?”
More in this series
On Eve’s Temptation and the Monsters We Make of Hungry Women
There is a part of me, even after so many iterations of faith and years of living in an adult body, that is waiting for punishment, waiting to be banished from the Garden.
The Curious Language of Grief
I don’t think I cried over his death for a long time. I wondered if something was wrong with me. I hadn’t realized that we have to learn how to cry.
My Years of Summertime Sadness
She’s loved and lost and lost and lost and yet still loves, and I root for this assertion to take root. Every sweetheart deserves their summers.