studio 54

now entering my glamorous era + other birthday musings//work in process 60.

Last Thursday was my birthday. I turned 54. For an even number, it seems very odd. Full and round, and so much bigger than I feel. In my skin, I’m still 17 or 27 and sometimes even 7.

I woke early before everyone else to go to the gym. The dogs were up, and I got the coffee brewing. The living room was dim, the sun not yet up. I thought about turning another year older. It actually felt pretty OK, definitely much better than the alternative.

I didn’t used to be so sanguine about birthdays. I could get very hung up on doing something special and at the same time, I didn’t want to tally another year. I distinctly remember the day after my 40th birthday, flying home from California after a weekend with my friends, feeling deeply, petulantly aggrieved that I was now part of a new club. The 40+ club. The people in it were old and boring, and they were the last people I’d ever want to hang out with. By the time I finally got over it, it was my birthday again, which brought a fresh slap in the face. It was one thing to be 40, but I had to get even older? Oh, the affront!

Fifty was so much better. I prepared for it, honored it. I thought about me at 7 and 17, 27 and 47. I felt gratitude of having been those ages, and the privilege of adding another. I didn’t have to hold onto any of those versions of me, because they were all still inside. They were still me. I was still her.

Fifty-four is going to be my glamorous year, my Studio 54 year. Of course I’m not done being a grubby outdoor athlete, going just a little too far and coming home just a little bit late with with dirty ankles and salt-lick skin. I’m still going to sleep out on rivers and run up mountains and wake before dawn to ski, lie on rocks, and wear mothy sweaters when I ride my bike. There will definitely be wind-scoured facials at 12,000 feet and almost certainly canceled appointments on powder days. Wild is beautiful, too.

But I’m also going to sleep in nice hotels and go back to Europe and dress up just because and go all in on my Studio 54 Era.

glam is in high supply at Casa Newton, Tuscany

I told my friends this the other night at my birthday dinner. Our theme was fancy European night out. We wore going-out clothes and drank Italian cocktails and champagne, and we all felt very glamorous. My friends agreed this was a very exciting development indeed. They have known me since our young working-girl era in Santa Fe, through the half-crazed days of new motherhood, midlife and now, raising teens—our own and each other’s.

Of course, we’re also raising ourselves—all our different selves. Always. Like motherhood, it never ends.

We accompany these versions of us through changes big and small, soft resets and major milestones. We give ourselves permission to change our minds, alter our course, or hold fast; we forgive our missteps and let go of regrets. If we’re lucky, we have friends who love us unconditionally whatever era we’re in, but it’s our responsibility to truly tend to ourselves.

On my birthday morning, I sat in the living room and looked out the east windows. Sunrise was still a long way off. What did I envision now? I wondered. Yes to my Hotel Era, yes to fully inhabiting my femininity. Yes to mountains and rivers and dirtbag days, no apologies. Yes to riding bikes and writing.

I thought back to a September morning at Mountain Flow Camp, when my friend Katie invited us to talk to a tree. I asked mine why I felt so strangely empty, and the tree said, You’re not. You’re full. Of what? I asked. Love, the tree said. Obviously. What do I do with it? You give it away, I heard the tree say back. All of it.

So that’s my wish for the year: to share and create beauty, to give everything away like the old tree told me—love, passion, beauty, words, stories, wildness—and hold nothing back.

Not so long ago, I’d have thought I should save something for myself. But at 54, I finally get it: When we give it all away, we get everything in return. All the love, beauty, and joy comes back tenfold. There’s no difference. Giving and receiving are the same thing.

That’s also my wish for you.

xo katie

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