Pretty Winter started because my friends and I were sick of fearing spring. It’s the same cycle every year:
December: YAY! I live inside of festive snow-y scenes from Harry Potter and the Sorcerer’s Stone, there is an endless buffet of holiday cookies at the office at all times and maybe I’ll go ice skating!
January: I look severely chic in turtlenecks and plan to wear them forever like Diane Keaton. Also, who even cares that the sugar levels in alcohol are the only things raising my heart rate right now? Cardio can wait until February because New Year’s Resolutions are the Patriarchy.
February: I’m a blob fish. One without any moisture whatsoever left in my body. Remarkably, I have somehow managed to become a dehydrated piece of blob-fish jerky, except that I’ve done the opposite of shrink; I have become a human plop of mashed potatoes. Same color, too. Pass the butter.
March: Has my face always existed in a sort of half-on, half-off corn-flake variety or is this new? I wonder if it’s a symptom of becoming a mole person.
April: I regret everything I ever said about being excited for spring. I need five more months to prepare. I also need a nap.
May: Okay, I’m back! Should I put my foot in a sneaker or what?
SO. Last year, to avoid all of that panic, we began a very embarrassing group chat where we text one another all of the monotonous, cringe-y, terrible and awful things one should never share with such earnest delivery in a screen-shot-able arena but, because Pretty Winter is a safe space, we do it on purpose.
Things like, “I went to the gym this morning!” And, “I am doing a face mask while whitening my teeth!”
Then everyone else goes, “Girl that is just so awesome!” “You are killing it!” “Me too!” “Yay!”
It is a cheesy group encouragement to the max; a collection of unabashed, unapologetic braggings about “me time,” fitness goals, obsessive moisturizing and hygiene.
The point of Pretty Winter is never to adhere to some grand and impossible beauty standard but rather, to not let yourself fall into a crockpot of wintry blahs that sits in the kitchen too long and makes the whole apartment-building floor smell weird. It’s a way to be social during the last bit of hibernation, to take just a bit of physical action (endorphins rule) and to exfoliate your flakes/lack of motivation.
Don’t let the last few months of life make you scared of spring. Get your friends to join or some strangers and try even doing JUST ONE THING. Sometimes all it takes is a new serum to make you feel like an Amy Poehler punchline.
Photos by Amelia Diamond.