“I am born. Whether I shall turn out to be the hero of my own life, or whether that station will be held by anybody else, these pages must show.”
-David Copperfield, Charles Dickens, chapter one, page one
21 years ago, I was given the gift of life. Everyday since then, I have been giving life the gift of me. I kid, but in all honesty, I believe that is how people should feel: that they have touched lives, made an impact, and, most importantly, that they belong exactly where they are.
I wandered around the area that I was staying in, drinking cold champagne outside of the Flatiron building while reading my book. There I was on my 21st birthday, celebrating one of those rare birthdays in which you are actually happy to be older.
Some people don’t take their birthdays very seriously. I am not one of those people. I am the main character on my birthday. A birthday is an excuse to celebrate yourself, so you might as well roll out the red carpet in an event that is less of a birthday party and more of a coronation.
And my coronation was not going to happen without its cake. A big cheesy cake isn’t just for kids anymore. Everyone will be having one on their birthdays from now on, up until they reach the age in which Type 2 Diabetes is a plausible threat and even then it’s still on the table. I went to Magnolia’s Bakery and got a rich tasting, sweet-but-not-too-sweet chocolate cake with a customized message. I got a cake that says “God Save The Queen.” I then invited some friends over and I let them eat cake.
Today the cake says: God Save The Queen.
When I turn 40, the cake will say:
Pass the botox.
If it can fit on a snarky birthday card, I will likely put it on a birthday cake one day.
The outfit I wore was in reference to the fact that I was their master of ceremonies. I also thought that it was going to fit me better, having never worn it before. So please, check out my crop top costume vest with my black sparkly pants. The plan was to walk to dinner with my friends and then eat cake back at my hotel, mainlining drinks all throughout, of course.
I showed up, ridiculously dressed, and had a wonderful time with my gorgeous friends. Dinner was at a French restaurant called Lou Lou, known for its craft cocktails and named after the owner’s dog, both of which I wholeheartedly approve of.
My Firebird cocktail came in the form of a bird shaped cocktail glass and my food was some rich, creamy, prettily-presented food that I scraped from my plate.
Then, back at the hotel bar, I had a Cosmo, as I can be counted on to do, and had my cake with my friends.
It was a pretty laid back birthday party, not the raucous-causing birthday bash where the drinks keep coming and the people in the next room tell you to keep it down. Upon learning that cocktails are expensive and that hangovers hurt like hell, I decided to keep it lowkey. Sipping alcohol responsibly and then being tucked in bed only shortly after midnight, isn’t most people’s idea of a typical 21st birthday party, but makes for a very enjoyable evening.
He crashed my photoshoot
Between the extravagant cocktails, the French bistro, and my royal cake, my namesake, Marie Antoinette, would have been proud. A few of my friends could not make it (I love you anyways, Alyssa and Julia) but I had a fantastic time with Bella, Anahat, and Valentina. Three’s a crowd, so I guess you can say that I had a crowd of people to celebrate my birthday with me.
Finally, we bring the curtain down on my only 21st birthday. Here’s to a sensitive, dramatic, sweethearted (wickedly funny, extremely cute) fun-loving girl, who fits all of the descriptions of her beloved Cancer zodiac sign, worships her standoffish cat, and can now drink legally in her home country.
Happy birthday to me and thank you to all of the people who made it truly special.
The Tragic Queen,