As little girls, we all had one fokelore or fairytale icon that we preferred over others. Some of us chose to believe that somewhere in a forest, princesses were waiting in castles for their prince, while others preferred to stand their ground that unicorns do exist and were roaming in the sky with She-ra, the Princess of Power. As for me, after getting over the hard cold fact that Barbie and Ken didn't have a secret private life once I closed my Barbie box at night, I moved my obsession on to something more realistic. After all, I was getting older and Barbie was for babies. I discovered on a fateful YMCA field trip to the 14th Street movie theater that if you were going to be anyone in life, mermaids were the way to go - that and oily stickers. Weeks before I turned 9 years old, my mother asked me what I would like for my birthday. One thing about my mom is that she will never be accused of being unsupportive, abrasive, yes, but she has always went along with all of my crazes and projects. She agreed when I wanted sparkly red star earrings like Jem for my 6th birthday, she said okay to ripped jeans so I could draw smiley faces on my knees like Debbie Gibson for Christmas 1987, and she saw absolutely no problem with my request for a balloon-stuffed purple strapless dress for my Jessica Rabbit Halloween costume, but for my 9th birthday, I has finally pushed the limits where my mother had no choice but to say no.
What could possibly be more inappropriate than a little girl dressed up like a cartoon slut for Halloween? My request wasn't so much inappropriate as it was impossible. My birthday wish was to have my mother to look into a surgical procedure to replace my lungs with gills so I could live in the ocean like a mermaid forever, and while were were at it, to have my hair died red like Ariel.
My poor mother who was only 27 years old at the time, did her best to meet me in the middle and accommodate my request. That morning, I opened my box to find that my new respiration organs had been with a "Little Mermaid" quilt. She could be heard behind me background sucking on a Marlboro light saying "it's the same thing, you'll be sleeping unda the sea...just a litta different." No new lungs just a new blanket...and I loved it. It was perfect. As for the red hair, she made up for that years later for my 12th birthday during my intense Use Your Illusion I and II phase and let me get an Axl shade of Rock n' Roll red.Now that I'm in my 30s and still have my mermaid quilt (that I hide in my closet when boys sleep over), I also still have my mermaid obsession and thought of no better place to fulfill it than in the Bahamas...with Seb who I force to take photos of my creepy visions.This is what being a mermaid is to me...
Mermaid jewels...
Sparkling Mermaid Mani. 
Long shimmery skirts.
and sequined scaly mermaid back!It was a dream come true!! I really lived like a mermaid this week! I frolicked in the ocean, sang to myself, made Seb reenact Prince Eric scenes, flopped around, and did care at all about my extra rolls of wine fat around my waist. How will I ever adapt back to Parisian life? #whitegirlproblems
Note to my blogging friends: We're leaving tomorrow and I will be a better blogging friend when I'm back in New York. I'm sorry that I haven't been in touch via comments and responses. I look forward to catching up on all of your blog posts! I feel so out of the loop! I miss you guys. xo.
