Zara scarf, Manolo Costa shirt, One Teaspoon shorts, Stuart Weitzman boots, Gucci bag, Celine sunnies,
Family members can attest to this: I had a pink plaid blanket as a child. It was my everything. I would suck my thumb while holding my blanket to my nose, sniffing it. I can’t explain it, but it was the most soothing thing in the world. The only day of the week I hated was the day my mom would confiscate my blanket from me for its weekly washing. I hated getting it back clean, because it didn’t smell the same. But also, over time, it became clear that it was also shrinking with every wash. I had it until it was just a square – about one inch by one inch. I still sucked my thumb, while holding the square up to my nose, but of course, it wasn’t the same anymore. It wasn’t bribing me with new rollerblades or putting pepper on my thumb that got me to quit sucking. It was the disintegration of my blanket. Though my blanket was a girlish pale pink, something about the print of this plaid scarf reminds me of it. And while I’m well beyond my thumb sucking years, every time I wear this scarf, I find myself holding it up to my nose the same way I did with my blanket as a child, and oddly, I also find myself experiencing the same comfort. As an adult, those moments of security are far and few between, so it feels nice.
photographs by Manuel Vinicio http://www.manuelvinicio.com/Read More