At the center of a bustling borough, there was Stella. Though she was born and bred a New York baby girl, she knew her heart lived elsewhere. She'd often gaze at the map tacked up to her bedroom wall, amongst posters of Bowie and Blondie, fairy lights and feathers dripping from the ceiling of her tiny apartment in a big city. She needed to chase the sun. She wanted desperately to stroll down star-paved sidewalks and feel the salty air comb through her wild blonde mane. She dreamed of hiking through twisty canyons winding up past hillside homes with wild rose bushes. She sighed.
Stella was never one to feel content with settling. She was all imagination -- a force to be reckoned with. If she wanted to see herself surrounded by magic, then she would simply have to open her eyes a little wider. She packed a big bag with fresh flowers and the ripest fruit. She tore the bedding off her mattress and tucked it neatly into one massive marshmellow. Like a tiny ant carrying the biggest lump of sugar, she stood with her treasures in the glass elevator of her building. Riding up up up, she pressed her face close to the window, kissing her city and leaving a perfect print of her hot pink Yves Saint Laurent lipstick.
As she flew past the tallest of towers, like a soaring superhero, she smiled. At the tip top of the roof, she got to work on her little New York nest. Not quite Los Angeles, not quite Laurel Canyon, but closer to the sky and nearer to the stars. Perhaps not the Marilyn or Audrey kind of stars, but those that appeared after a blood orange sunset. The glitter of flickering lights like fireflies dancing in the sun. She kneww right then that she couldn't leave this place just yet. LA was tugging at her heart, but New York was inside her soul.
clothing by Wildfox
shoes by Jeffrey Campbell
words and graphic by Electric Raspberry
photos by Brittanny Taylor