It's true, there really is no place like home. With 2005 coming to a close, I'm equal parts nostalgic for Christmases past (pictured, X-mas 1984, Brooklyn) and steeling myself for the uncertainty of the year ahead. In those days, I wanted only to be like my aunts, all silvery glitter and magic dust. They looked liked they'd walked off the dance floor of Studio 54 and sashayed into our red brick house on Fifth in Long Island. I can smell the puff of Fashion Fair and Youth Dew when I'm strapping on heels for a night out. I'm still that girl (minus the glasses) with her legs crossed just so, just trying to measure up. In 2006, no resolutions, but I hope I can hold on to how hopeful it felt back in '84, tucked on that couch.
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