Fairylights are my everything.

Like a matte red lip, they are never out of place or style.
I string them from every corner, wrap them around every curtain rail, light fitting and bannister, and drape them on every ledge. Balancing tip toed on teetering stools, tables and sofa arms, I am never more agile than when committed to this task.

Set them to twinkle (always a twinkle, never a flash, a pulse, or just static…always to twinkle) and get ready to teleport.

They make a gathering into a party. They turn the room from freezing cold to toasty like a fireside. It can suddenly be Christmas morning in the middle of June. They bring the sparkle, sex appeal, romance, and kitschy glamour of a 1950’s Manhattan cocktail bar, without ever having to change out of your PJ’s. Hey, is that Don Draper over there?! They hide a multitude of your domestic sins – mess, clutter, thick dust, crumb ridden floors and faded, chipped paint – all vanish with the flick of a switch. They have this ability to open the mind and imagination. Stare long enough at the gentle glow and you’ll solve 80% of your problems, and be able to dream up your greatest plans.

Turn the big lights off, turn up the music, and suddenly the mass of bulbs become a full and cheering stadium of 10,000 people, holding the flames from their lighters, up high in the air, just for you, as you smash out your most beloved, number one, power ballad. The crowd always demand an encore. And you always oblige…just as soon you’ve poured another whisky.

Whatever came before this moment in the day, however horrible, stressful, or tiring. However heavy your heart is, and whatever clutters your mind – once you put them on, the world outside these four walls cease to exist. The world can go burn in a dumpster fire from that moment on. Everything you need is right here.

Just you. A drop of something strong. A solid tune. And hundreds, upon hundreds, of endless, flowing, twisted, warm, comforting, majestic, specks of firefly magic.

Fairylights are my everything.

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