The Toast — the art of going anyway

I was recently standing in front of my closet, weighing the merits of a sensible trench coat against a velvet blazer that had absolutely no business being packed for the trip, when something occurred to me:

We spend far too much time preparing for the rain and not nearly enough time preparing for the champagne.

There is a particular kind of gravity that settles in during this stage of life, isn’t there? We are told to downsize, simplify, be practical, and act our age—which usually translates to “Please stop making so much noise.”

Personally, I have never found much joy in being quiet—or particularly practical.

Have you heard about the Japanese concept of kintsugi? It is the art of repairing broken pottery with gold, making the cracks and scars the most beautiful parts of the piece.

I like to think about our lives—and our travels—in much the same way.

We are not looking for places that are pristine, polished, and untouched. We are looking for places that have lived a little, much like ourselves.

In this issue, we are leaning into the unapologetic. We are seeking out corners of the world where the wine is older than the guest list, the meals take their sweet time, and the conversation lasts longer than the flight.

It is time we stopped waiting for a special occasion to wear the fabulous jacket, order the expensive dessert, or take the long way home.

So I’d like to propose a toast to the velvet blazer, the late-night dessert, and the company of people who never ask whether you’re sure about that second glass.

You have earned the right to be a little difficult to pin down.

Raise your glass.

Touch up your lipstick, Dorothy.

P.S. If you see me in the lobby wearing sequins before noon, please have the decency to assume I am exactly where I’m supposed to be.