Let's get this straight, my monthly wage, minus my rent, my insurance, and my student loan brings me down to $1,118. That's $279 a week.
From that, let's minus cash for the flat jar, bills, and lest we forget food, bringing us down to around about $100 a week- of which finds its own non-descriptive way of disappearing...
Now, this is all fine given I chose advertising. I knew the wage to begin on is...well, what it is (however legally bordering it is).
I also know it can only and only will get better (she says...).
However, as I sat in my cafe at 7am this morning beginning the first hour of the day, I flick through the one and only Elle.
I found myself being mentally sucked in to the headlines 'Bags for Boardrooms' and images that only say 'I'm so busy getting to my meeting I'm holding on to this Dior clutch bag so'.
All I could think was, I want to be her.
But of course, naturally, have her be me.
I want to be that woman with the bluntly cut black silk bangs and the cape running along behind trying to keep up with it's owner's oh-so-busy-and-important career led life.
Yes, I know, it really is ironic that I'm in advertising given I am so easily sucked in to it.
But no matter how many Banksy portraits are made describing advertising as the devil, it is to me and I intend it to forever be, one of escapism.
Great advertising is great art.
Publishing art.
Printing an ad.
What's the difference ma chérie?
And until I rise to the top of said industry, I will go on painting my lips red and wearing my non expensive-expensive looking bling, until the day comes that my monetary funds keep up with my Givenchy cape flying behind me as I race through the double doors of my oh-so-important-meeting only to nonchalantly tell my client, "But darling, it's art".
