Sometimes I do things because a character on a TV show did it first.
These things include but are not limited to:
becoming so obsessed with shoes you end up broke.
dedicating a whole wall to your wig collection.
booking a craniosacral therapy treatment like an heiress staying at a luxury resort in Hawaii.
Let’s break them down, shall we?
Becoming so obsessed with shoes you end up broke
I’ve told this story before. In fact, it was my first newsletter here on Substack. I was studying abroad in Spain and living off savings—savings I worked very hard to put aside so I wouldn’t have to get a student job during my Penélope Cruz Era. But I was also in a long-term Carrie Bradshaw Era, which meant I fantasized about “running slowly” in heels in European streets. I never stood a chance. I didn’t convert Euros in Canadian dollars, which turned out to be a problem. I spent too much time money in Zara, Mango, and every cute boutique in the South of Spain. The final straw happened when I hopped over to Italy for Easter Break, where a pair of brown leather strappy sandals drained the last 75 Euros in my bank account. I was halfway through my term.
Little did I know it’s impossible for a city-dwelling writer to treat herself to shoe shopping sprees. Doesn’t matter if you’re in Madrid, New York or Montreal. The math doesn’t add up.
Dedicating a whole metaphorical wall to your wig collection
I had a wig collection long before the Schitt’s Creek matriarch, Moira Rose, waltzed onto our screens. So technically, I did it first. It’s not as extensive as hers and I don’t hang my collection on a wall, but it exists. The wigs are mostly for Halloween costumes, like my black and white Cruella bob, the curly golden locks, the Avatar-esque braids. My most cherished wig is called Gabby, and she’s a short blonde bob with bangs. She’s my highest quality wig. I’ve worn her on various occasions, like grocery shopping with my mom and to a Lady Gaga concert, where my five-foot-one self acted completely out of character and confronted someone threatening to pour beer over my friend’s head.
Oh, the transformative power of wigs. You can pretend to be someone else whenever you want, whether that’s in mosh pits or cereal aisles.
Booking a craniosacral therapy treatment like an heiress staying at a luxury resort in Hawaii
I’m not a fan of thrillers, except for Air Force One and The Sum of All Fears. They’re too stressful. I’m already an anxious, hyper-vigilant person who tends to spiral about the unknown. Will I throw up tonight? Will I unexpectedly and urgently need the bathroom and not have access to one while running errands? I know I have issues, and I don’t need fictional characters causing me unnecessary stress. But everybody on Twitter was watching The White Lotus, and I wanted to understand what the memes were about. My husband and I watched the show and became obsessed with the theme song and Tanya McQuoid, Jennifer Coolidge’s eccentric heiress character. I love melodramatic diva characters. I’m not sure if it’s because I want to be like them, or if I recognize parts of myself in them. Perhaps it’s the latter (please reference the wig collection above). In Season 1 of the show, Tanya experiences a special spa treatment to process her grief. The treatment in question is called “craniosacral therapy.” I’d never heard about it before, but you better believe I looked it up.
Next thing I knew I found myself on a table in Hochelaga-Maisonneuve, head resting in a craniosacral therapist’s hands, blowing imaginary bubbles for twenty minutes and relaying messages from my legs, who told me they were strong and would carry me through life’s challenges.
See you next week.