Over the winter, I holidayed in a picturesque ski town nestled in the Alps. As I took in the sweeping mountain views, I found myself just as drawn to the other visitors. 

One night, I went to what I expected to be a quiet dinner. But suddenly the lights dimmed, the music started to blare, and the stars appeared: scantily clad women carrying sparklers and magnum bottles of Dom Pérignon, emerging from thin air. I looked up to see which table is receiving the bottle service and for those few minutes all eyes are on them. I was completely entranced — clapping along, caught up in the energy, swept into the spectacle. As fast it began, it ended. The music softened, the lights returned, and the room slipped back into itself. Conversations resumed. Plates clinked. The moment passed.

I kept thinking about that shift—the rise and fall of it. How easily attention can be summoned with the power of money, and how quickly it disappears. It made me wonder how much of what we chase is less about the experience itself, and more about being seen having it. 

The truth is, I understand the pull. There’s something deeply human about wanting to be noticed, to feel, even if only for a moment distinct from the crowd. To be the one people look at. But I also wonder what happens when the moment ends. When the room moves on. When the attention fades as quietly as it arrived. Is that fleeting sense of being someone, of being seen enough? 

I don’t have a clean answer. I’m not sure there is one. What I do know is that I’m not outside of it. I feel that same tug, the same desire to be perceived in a certain way. I have extravagant desires, and I enjoy nice things. But I am also deeply sentimental. I value intention. I value experiences that feel grounded, not just to be observed, not just for the consumption of others. Groundedness is harder to define. It can’t be measured or captured. It has no audience. It exists internally, quietly.

So much of our lives are shaped by performance. The varying roles we slip into – friend, partner, son/daughter, etc..often without noticing. We move between them seamlessly, unconsciously shifting into different versions of ourselves. Putting on and taking off the different roles till they all collide and blur together. And over time, it becomes harder to tell whether we’re expressing who we are or rehearsing who we think we should be. We jump into these roles countless times without question, without objection. I’ve tried to object, I look at the pile and examine the one I choose when I am alone. I try to have that be the one I put on as often as I can. I try too because I realize it is my favorite one.

At the end of that night, I had a nightcap at the hotel bar. In the corner, a beautifully dressed couple sat playing backgammon. There was a kind of ease in their presence, a self-contained intimacy. It struck me how full that moment felt, despite its stillness. Or maybe because of it. And still, every now and again, the ground slips from under me and I am clapping along surrounded by sparklers and light. Maybe you can come join me*.

xo,
M

*Catch me on the west coast soon. Chat more later