All Hail the Birthday Getaway
It happened again. Plus, lotsa links, Tay Tay, and an announcement!
For those of you new here, hi! Bienvenue. Here are some fun facts about me: I have a sensitive sense of smell, bruise easily, and I’m not shy about Birthday Feelings. Re: the latter, it’s mainly because I feel shortchanged having been born in August. Don’t get me wrong: I love this end-of-summer month even though it’s when stores start shilling school supplies, burgundy loafers, and pumpkin-spiced lattes despite the still-warm temps and aggressive mozzie situation around dusk. It’s just that, historically, there are very few people around.
As a kid, friends were either still in camp or away with their parents during the week between camp and school. Now, as an adult, many of those same friends are either picking up their kids from camp, away with them during that in-between week, or still vacance-ing somewhere in Europe. There was a moment in my 20s and 30s when we were mostly all on the same page, in the same city, and we’d throw on our going-out-tops to shout over each other while drinking cocktails we thought were expensive. That feels like a long time ago—both the need to flaunt our boobies and the cheap $10 Cosmos. That was also when I didn’t have as many friends in various countries. La chance! But also: compliqué.
For the past decade or so, partly to avoid the aggravation over who will be where when, I decided to trade group dinners for intimate trips and haven’t looked back.
They started innocently enough. There was Nashville where I spent a very hot long weekend with my Mom and sister eating biscuits and fried chicken, touring the Ryman, and shopping at Reese Witherspoon’s Draper James.
After that, I commandeered my friend Jess to join me someplace beachy in France, which is my favorite birthday vibe to pursue no matter the timezone. One year it was Ile de Ré on the west coast, and, in 2020, Marseilles where we sunbathed nude on the terrace of a new hotel called Tuba Club.
The year after that, Mom met me in Provence for picnicking in Versailles, invader hunting in Avignon, and strolls around small towns, and, in 2022, my friend Rebecca flew from NY to join me in a different part of Le Sud for skinny-dipping (yes, yes, birthday suit, etc., etc.) and driving around St. Tropez in a borrowed VW convertible sans GPS and automatic windows.
The only summer birthday I spent in New York after fully committing to France was my 40th—The Summer of Cockles, 2018—during which my sister planned the ultimate surprise, a Flashmob.
I followed it up with a 6-day trek in Peru with my brother so, really, I still went away.
Last year, I nudged my best friend Amy from High School to join me for two nights of literal rocking out to our favorite band, My Morning Jacket, who was playing at Red Rocks Amphitheater in Colorado, which was followed, back in France, by a surprise boat ride on the Seine planned by my friends in Paris.
That brings us up to date. When I learned another one of my favorite bands—Kings of Leon—was playing the Santa Barbara Bowl the day after I’d turn 46 this year I decided to tack it onto a trip to visit my niece and nephew in LA.
Lauren, one of my dear friends from college who also lives in LA, drove us up north to hike, shop, and lose each other while high in the bathroom of an outdoor stadium as if it were 1997 when we wore chokers unironically.
All of which to say, I wholeheartedly endorse The Birthday Getaway and while I didn’t necessarily set out to make it a Thing, I’m glad it’s become one and am very happy to continue the tradition for as long as I am able. While, yes, it may sound more extravagant than one group dinner, it doesn’t have to be. It can be as low maintenance as you (and your travel buddy) decide.
Life is short. Birthdays are a reminder that we made it one more rotation around the sun and that deserves to be honored in a way that makes you feel, well, fucking alive.
What better way to celebrate the air that we breathe than by doing so outside in nature on a hike?
What better way to appreciate the roads not yet taken than by discovering a new city or path?
What better way to feel loved than to surround yourself with those who show and share their devotion?
What better way to embrace artistry than by losing yourself to live music or surrounding yourself by sculptures?
You get the point. :) Now mix, shake, and serve.
Sure, I may do many of these things on other days, too. But if being back in America after living so many years in Europe has reminded me of anything it’s that Americans don’t travel enough without an excuse—and even then there needs to be a whole lot of convincing whether it’s the boss, the partner, or, the toughest critic yet, oneself. So I’m giving you one: your birthday! You’re still here. You matter. People love you. YOU love you. (I hope.) Now, go get lost. Skinnydip. See a show. Take a hike. Laugh so hard you snort. Cry, too. Seatbacks upright, tray table stowed. Or, gas tank full and playlist downloaded.
If no one is available, do it alone. I did so in 2019 with a day trip to Étretat in Normandy and it was special and rewarding in its own way. Plus, you’ll still get all the calls and texts so, in essence, you aren’t reallllly alone not to mention that you choose all directions, the side of the bed, and entrées at dinner. Going with friends or family is still my preference, and may be yours, too. For me, it may be because I spend a good many of my days alone to begin with—contently, to be sure, but still as a party of one. But also because—let’s be honest—you’ll still get to do what you want because it’s your birthday and them’s the rules (right?) only with a favorite person or two in tow. It’s the ultimate gift.
Even my niece and nephew, Cal and Dolly, have caught on to the trend and will spend their third and first birthdays in Hawaii this year.
My invite must’ve gotten lost in the mail, but that’s OK. There’s always next year!
Wishing you all a bon anniversaire, whenever (and wherever!) you celebrate, a bonne rentrée, and a happy back-to-school season. xx — Sara
Clickable
Chloe Sevigny is one of us. Maybe slightly cooler. | The Cut
Big ticket purchases call for a bigger screen. (Right?) | Thrillist
Use your voice. It’s a unique work of art. |
Rockclimbing where love is blind. | WaPo
Survival, hope, friendship, and the fall that caused it all. | ESPN
What a long strange trip The Dead have had. | The New Yorker
Paris traded cool for kitsch. | The New York Times
What it’s like to travel across the country by train. | WaPo
For risk-averse France, awe paid off. | The Guardian
“The fat alone reigns supreme.” Overtourism in Bologna. | NYT
Bingeable TV’s hitmaker. | Vulture
“There can be joy in wearing what pleases you.” | WaPo
Forget Emily in Paris. I want to live like Lily in LA. | Vogue
The ins and outs of earning a Michelin star. | BBC
Watchable
Taylor does it again—not only by releasing a music video at the final show of her European tour but by including BTS footage of said tour in the video itself. The song, “I Can Do It With a Broken Heart,” (or ICDIWABH to Swifties) is about touring and performing after a breakup so it’s all very meta and I loved every second of it.
Currently overthinking…
…whether to commit to The Music Man, which begins rehearsals next week… (editor’s update: I went to the first read-through last night and I’m in! It felt so good to sit in an auditorium and be all dramatic and entertaining on purpose.)
Bon Voyage: Upstate New York, Part 1
Growing up, the term “upstate” meant nothing more than a lengthy car ride from Long Island and likely sleeping the night in “The Blue Room” inside my grandpa Harry and almost-grandmother Rosalie’s cabin near Bethel. (And, yes, it’s exactly as it sounds: everything is blue.)
Souvenir: JanSport Backpack
I have school spirit, yes I do! So, courtesy of my sister who’s sponsoring today’s souvenir (paid subscriber perk—holla!), today I’m rolling it back to the backpack of our youth: JanSport, which began holding pencil cases and textbooks panel-load-style way before our times in 1967. Still, we remember this satchel with the iconic brown suede bottom as the sack-du-jour of the ’90s. While they’re still around today, I think Herschel now has a seat at the cool kid’s table, amIright? Did (do) you have a JanSport? What are your/the kids rockin’ today?
Announcement: Snap, Cockle, Pop!
Due to overwhelming demand, by which I mean popularity at my brother’s annual Labor Day party where I served two of our four cockle sauces, I’m resurrecting my pop-up project, Cup o Cockles. We won’t have a proper home or regular operation hours; rather I’ll pop your cockles catering-style, on-demand. Please spread the word and reach out for rates and juicy packages. (You’re welcome for all the innuendos. It’s my favorite part.) Hit me up if you’re throwing an event in the tri-state area.
Love this one!!!! And loved our birthday trip together :)