Let's pretend
On that Friday afternoon, we revisited those shy little girls that met for the first time, tangled hair from climbing trees and crayon smeared hands that reached out to hold, toothless grins whispering ‘Let’s pretend...’
Everyone agreed that the day was just right for the picnic to Hanging Rock – a shimmering summer morning, warm and still, with cicadas shrilling all through breakfast from the loquat trees outside the dining room windows, and bees murmuring above the pansies bordering the drive. Heavy-headed dahlias flamed and drooped in the immaculate flowerbeds, the well-trimmed lawns steamed under the mounting sun.
- Picnic at Hanging Rock by Joan Lindsay
It was a Friday when I saw my childhood best friend Isabel for the first time in about two years, having not seen each other for years prior to that. From the age of five, to now nearing two decades, we’ve shared laughter, our problems, ourselves 一 not a single thing has changed. We found ourselves in the grasslands of Centennial Park discussing the vision: Picnic at Hanging Rock, Virgin Suicides, Sofia Coppola for Marc Jacobs, pre-2016 Mitski. and any other iteration of suburban girlhood we could think of amidst our own conversation of gossip and insecurities.
We had begun this shoot with the intent of capturing the Australian experience of growing up. It instead unfurled to become a capsule of girlhood; of memory and reliving nostalgia of a youth long gone, yet still held like a pearl in the palm of our hands, passed between each other and leaving a permanent shimmer where it touched our skin. Our girlhood is both ephemeral and enduring: I am not a person but I will always be a girl. Sweetness and bitterness, like a ripe grapefruit in the summer. To be unrelentingly understanding, yearning for connection, our stems rising to face the sun and intertwining like ropes choking and supporting until we can reach out our petalled hands and touch that distant star. Both the muse and the architect, building beautiful sculptures out of anxiety and hope – I think we are all girls after all.
On that Friday afternoon, we revisited those shy little girls that met for the first time, tangled hair from climbing trees and crayon smeared hands that reached out to hold, toothless grins whispering “Let’s pretend...” We wonder if we’ve made them happy, if we grew up too fast… or if we never grew up at all.
