First love never die

My first love was a boy from school. Very original, no? We ended up together in a time and age where people didn’t tweet, reblog, like or comment, but wasted their nights on mIRC, had drinks in a bar built around a very old tree in our very own Central Park here in Cismigiu and exchanged real love notes instead of tumbling them in helvetica neue.

Gossip would get born in custom journals held by every group of girls during class, home phones were still better than no phones and fashion consciousness was emergent, yet timid. A dress from ZARA was pretty much luxury and wearing it easily turned you in the badass bitch with a large spending fund sense of style.

I held a special place inside  for all these sun drenched, orange tinted, radio orchestrated, snow coated images of teenage years. They may have attached to my heart or might have gone deeper and mixed in my structure, in my fiber, like stardust. They are spellbound, like childhood, like the first time you get up and walk, like the smell of old photos in a chinese tea box, like the drive behind getting the first boy you like to fancy you back, like the forgotten taste of almond candy from a crystal jar.

My memories are like a bunch of flowers plucked from an open field. The grace of cornflower pastels, with the feist of poppies and the faded grain – they speak simplicity in consistence.

 Love for the simple things in life is something I had to remember after my brain decided to take a break from my everyday life. Summertime, sand, holiday romance, basic fabrics, the feel of lightweight cotton on skin after a day at the beach, the smell of daisies running down my throat, they were there, at the end of a barely secluded beach, where my thoughts came back to where they belonged.

We all own our private  moments, scents, faces, places, particles in black and white or explosions in technicolor (should probably have used hipstamatic but I’m still a classic girl). We carry them in mental agendas in the shape of smiles, unfolding arms, dresses, trains, socks, stones, swings and grass, a tender collection of what we are that reverberates even miles away from home, when you put on a hat and a plain t shirt that embraces your style and your peace of mind.

FIRST LOVE NEVER DIE is a SUBSET and Ruffles for Breakfast project about the love we attribute to the simple stuff in life and about their precious identity. 

SUBSET is a young conscious fashion label founded by Alexandra Abraham, Irina Constantin and Cristiana Pitu that works with eco-friendly fabrics and upcycles materials into bold new designs. 

You can order the statement t-shirt used in the pics and MANY others here

Stay tuned for episode #2 of FIRST LOVE NEVER DIE






  1. dailytutliputli

    the picture in the water made me think of something like this : we sometimes have to walk through water to get ourselves back. I am also curious regarding t he absence of the letter “s” there. Should it be read like this : First love ( please don’t ever) die, like trying to hold on to the memories you thought could never be recovered?

    • Cosmic Audrey

      you have to sometimes get wet to get on the other side or back’s true
      as for the title and the manifesto, you can interpret it either way you want, that’s the beauty of it

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