Fiona Fayes

the plan, since the clip only shows the part where it fell apart. the plan was golden hour by the big window, a proper outfit, the whole skyline behind me. i had it timed. then one cloud parked itself over the city for forty minutes and my phone stand slid off the sill twice. so you got the mirror, the comfy shorts, and me pretending that was the idea all along. honestly it is the most relaxed i have looked on camera all week, so maybe the cloud knew something. round two is happening. the window is not getting away with this. what is the thing you keep planning that keeps going sideways?

the second half, since the clip stopped at 2-1. honestly i went for the atmosphere and the scarf. by the 70th minute i was on my feet telling a man two rows down to sit down, which is not a sentence i expected to write this year. they held on. 2-1 at the whistle. the girl next to me hugged me like we had survived something together and then never spoke to me again, which felt exactly right. jersey went straight in the wash. the scarf did not. it still smells like stadium fries and i think that is part of it now. where do you end up for the big games: packed bar, your couch, or the actual seats?

after the butterfly clip the sleeves came off first. mesh wings are gorgeous for about eight seconds and then they catch on every door handle in the apartment. the name was a joke that stuck. a friend saw the top on the hanger, said it looked like a cinnamon roll that grew wings, and now that is just what it is called. kept the gold clip in all evening. rust cords, bare feet, tea going cold on the windowsill while the light went orange and then gone. tell me the thing you own that has a name nobody else would understand.

ten minutes after that clip i was in the car with the windows down, still late, still not sorry. the truth about the door frame video: four takes, and the linen was already creased by the second one. golden hour here hands you about eleven good minutes and then it is just evening, so you either film in the hallway or you do not film at all. the loafers were a decision i stand by. my feet disagreed by 9pm. where i was going was nothing special. a friend's place, the long way, air still warm off the pavement. that is most of my summer honestly. small drive, good light, nowhere important. what does your nowhere-important look like this week?