Welcome to my collection of thoughts on many forms of Georgia. It is almost entirely false. Or just entirely false. You choose.
Georgia May: I was traveling a lot back in '13. I was also going through a series of fantastic hair days. On one of my many transfers in Atlanta I ran into Andre 3000. He pointed out that my hair was "begging for a party." I split my last King Sized Reese's, passed him the bigger half, and replied "sure is." Later that night at the swiftly imagined Charlie's Angels Theme Party, I was stopped in my tracks by an actual angel. (Ok. It was Georgia May Jagger. But let's be honest, she is straight from heaven.) We struck up casual party talk, argued over the best C.A. episode (Angel In Hiding, obviously) and took the obligatory selfie with Andre. It only took five minutes before I realized I had been making eye contact not with Georgia May, but with her gorgeous white leather vest. I finally gave up polite conversation and demanded to know where she got that vest. This real life angel burst out laughing, handed it to me and said "H&M girl, take it, its yours."
Georgia On My Mind: I am 25 years old which means I am obsessed with The Eater. So naturally, on a recent trip to Georgia I worked through nearly every stop on their "heatmap" of essential Atlanta restaurants, ending the journey at Holeman and Finch. One legendary burger and one too many Victory Laps later, I was challenged to put on an impromptu tribute show to one of my greatest heroes, Ray Charles. Out of fear of disrespecting my idol, I graciously accepted, climbing onto the bar with my fork-microphone in hand. Though standing atop the bar may not have been appreciated, the intention was kindly understood. The night ended in a restaurant wide sing-a-long to "Hallelujah I Love Her So."
Tbilisi, Georgia: My world tour of fashion weeks ended recently in the capitol of Georgia. A combination of the unreal beauty of Tbilisi and an overexposure to the runway nearly lead me to the Dry Bridge instead of Tamuna Ingorokva's show. Resisting the urge to shop was the single greatest decision of my life. What I encountered at the show was so much more than clothing. After months of schlepping across the globe, I finally felt home. Richard Serra's beautiful pieces, which had been so engrained in my memory from years of visiting the Art Institute of Chicago, were right before me. However, this time I saw them in the form of beautiful clothing rather than drawing. My amazement only continued from there with heavy Avtandil shoes I nearly stole off the model, the rich textiles of Lalo, and finally a hearty meal of eggplant stew. I have strong reason to believe I will be left with only one complaint of Georgia for the rest of my life, the regular use of walnuts in the cuisine.
Now a look at the beauty of pairing Georgia's H&M with Georgia's Best.