He Came to My House Calling Me to His

November 06, 2021

I was, still, wearing his jumper he borrowed me on Friday, when I was cold at his place, and I’ve been wearing it ever since. Even now, when he knocked at my door to tell me to enter his, so now I, really, have to write about it. Why? Only God knows.

THE jumper that made me do it.

We, at times, wait for it to happen, yet sometimes, make it happen without even thinking about it. I just go with it and, most times, it’s a beautiful rollercoaster that I’m not only in awe of, but am on, of course. It just feels right. But boy, when it’s a surprise and it turns out great! It was me who messaged him first, a year and a half ago (the days feel so long and the years seem so short nowadays, nowayears) on an orange, blueish sky one June Saturday late afternoon, to meet me on the hallway, we did, exchanged a couple of words and, soon, his hands wrapped around my shoulders and I was on his terrace meeting two of his friends. Little did we know about what was awaiting us. The reason for my message makes the best story when we tell it to my friends, his friends, depending on the scenario we almost never plan, yet invariably enjoy. We just live too close, our doors nearly touch, everything happens as every day comes and goes by. We might meet, we might not, we just know we’re here. Family dynamics. The glow everyone has when we tell them we’re neighbours seem to be the cherry on top of the delicious ice-cream we, sometimes, share and bond over the salted caramel flavour, when walking around our neighbourhood for hours.

The jumper covers the bum, which is always an opportunity for the leggings to come out and when the jacket is just perfectly large enough to cover the jumper in October, well, then, that was just meant to be. Tip: the black part of the sneakers help elongate the black leggings and one’s legs, hehe.

Obviously, there’s a certain feeling when you’re wearing a jumper of someone you like. It’s not that often that I do it, but each time it happened, it happened really genuinely and if it didn’t, then it wasn’t meant to happen and that’s also good, it’s for a reason. It’s very rarely, however, that it happens with a person you don’t, particularly, like (like that) and you wear their clothes because your teeth are shivering. You know what situation is what, so wearing someone else’s clothes, given the circumstances, is cool no matter what. Imagine it’s someone’s you like or, let’s say, your mother’s something.

It makes you feel a certain way, especially when you know they wore it more than 10 times. I don’t know about his jumper, will ask him today, but, right at this very moment, I don’t even care, I love it as it is because we’ve been having these wonderful times together and I’m sure we’re going to have some more. Wink, wink.

Putting a belt around the waist transforms the jumper into a dress. Something about it makes one feel awesome. Tip: put on the black sexy heels, girl!

Sometimes, the relationships we make along the way in our lives can be the kind of relationships we need to have according to the stages we’re at. We all have friends we love and had the time of our lives with, but life happens, we have learned to pay attention and we’ve grown apart and that’s ok. A friendship that had started many, many years ago, but is toxic is the opposite of a fresh relationship that not only is new, hence the freshness, but also feels fresh. Just like timeless friendships of a lifetime do… You both feel like two juicy, crisp watermelons and, as the seasons go by, each of you transforms in some other fruit or vegetable, maybe, and that only brings more juiciness to the McDonald’s you share on a random Monday evening, after the above mentioned Friday, over Mulholland Drive.

So, I went to his house, on the Tuesday after the above Monday, I’m actually writing this from his home. He’s dismounting a closet with friends. I guess, at other times, especially when you feel a bit out of space, doing yoga, taking a shower, putting a favourite thing and some neon pink socks on prepares you for you don’t know what, but squat, what?

I don’t have any pictures from Tuesday.

You might think we love each other. We do, we didn’t choose each other for neighbours, yet slowly, but surely, I got to wear his clothes. Last year, for Halloween, my Mia needed a white shirt, so I rushed, dressed in my robe, into his closet. It felt like home and it might be my love of awesome clothes, but it is also about the people, of people, hello!

Being honest might not get you a lot of friends, but it will always get you the right ones, John Lennon.

Halloween 2020 dressed as Mia in Pulp Fiction.
Or statement sneakers, because you like to JUST DO IT.
Halloween 2021 dressed as myself.

On that Friday (we started this with) morning, amongst the stuff we talked via messages, from our homes, I told him, out of the subject: Jees, I miss putting some glitter on me!

A new befriended friend over a girls’ dinner table on that same Friday (that included way more than dinner, it lasted until almost 1am, so, by that time, that type of discussions arose and I’m not talking in codes here, it’s, obviously, about love that we got to talk) said that when we’re falling in love, we kind of slip into a form of disease. I’d heard it before, knew for sure what I believed in, could have just shut up, but no, didn’t even think about it and said out loud, in a warrior kind of stance I’m too big of a romantic to revolve my life around that, that life is all about falling in love, staying in love, loving. What else is there? We were eight girls and it was mesmerising to observe and nourish each other’s state. Get a different point of view, consolidate yours, shatter some kind of wall, consolidate another, but also indulge in a feminine vibe, with its delicacies and fights, too.

Another one said that we might set up a psychological test for the potential partner so to know, from the beginning, if there’s potential for a healthy relationship or not. Oh, but you know stuff anyway, from the get go, it’s only up to you to be objective and see the red flags (when it’s not the aforementioned disease, there are no flags anyway, it’s love, chillax) and do something about it or ignore the red flags, altogether, and ride the wave like it’s so sunny and fuzzy that nothing can stand in the way of surfing like a pro. One. But, then, two came straight away: doesn’t being that rational about someone shut the emotional from the start? And it is the emotional, after all, that makes a potential something… that thing. It makes one vulnerable as fuck, but at least one knows one tried entirely and, now, it either turns into a butterfly or dies. The truth will set you free, but first it will piss you off, as Gloria Steinem herself said. Surfboard, surfboard.

Hire me to tell stories.

Saturday night. The bag turned into the clutch that goes with, literally, anything is always a joy.
So simple, so easy.

My neighbour called me past 00:00, on that same Friday, some days are just full of electricity: Cristina, are you with a man? I was supposed to be at his place which is, basically, my place, long before. I had to excuse myself, leave the table and tell him what I was, actually, doing. He knew what I was doing, he was just checking in on me, we exchanged some jokes and that felt so familial. Warm, and I left very soon after, you know what it feels like when someone in the family says Come home!. It was at 3am that Friday to Saturday that I, first, got to wear the jumper I’m, still, wearing, as I’m talking with friends, at his home, on the Tuesday following the Mulholland Monday following the Friday. Inserting the rollercoaster would be, again, so natural in here, jees. The closet has been, officially, dismounted, music is, basically, air to me, my neighbour works in music, the music school and the museum of music are our neighbours (for real) and I love this jumper, nerding out and romanticising the shit out of anything and everything. 

I mean I consider him family, it’s up to him whether he’s the super cool relative you always enjoy being around or the one you take for who they are and love them anyway, it’s up to us. 

About that, that same night (not yet wearing the jumper, but, definitely, getting ready for it), I wore a completely different one to meet my friend, Justice. My golden jumper I only wore 4 or 5 times, liked seeing in my wardrobe and winked at each time our eyes met over the last seven years.

The golden jumper underneath my neighbour’s jumper.
4.30am. Friday to Saturday.
4.30am Friday to Saturday.

Justice and me met for drinks at a place we, sometimes, dance together in, depending on the music, now talked, yet felt like dancing, and we had such a romantic girlfriendly evening. We call each other Justice, it comes from the band we, both, are huge fans of.

Where am I going with this? Well, I guess I would say vulnerability might freak the shit out of some people, but it would only get the coolest ones closer. Same with the truth.

Are you still reading this?

Because I’m only just getting started here. Kiddin, kiddin. Fun fact: I’m, these days, in a group of 100 people, on Whatsapp, that enrolled into this 21 days program where we train to be able to stay in chair position by the wall, for 10 minutes. The point is our lovely trainer asked us to, each, say on this group, whether or not we surprised ourselves winning or complaining today. If so, answer Yes, if not No. Someone answered, just now, No (but it was painful). Tru dat, I feel you, my friend, lmao, and I feel so good.

Thank you and have a wonderful day or night!

At other other times, be careful to not only pay attention to the red flags, but to your heart skipping beat after beat, fuck fear and go for it.

Later edit: We’re not together, obviously, nor do we want to be.

I would, though, wear Harry Styles’ (who I like, like and wrote about here) clothes from his Winter 2021 Dazed.

In your mailbox would be ideal, yet in your e-mail is pretty close, yay!
Subscribe to
OZinParis letter.

Hey, this is Cristina Pavelescu wearing a music cassette sweater, decoding (life) style and writing from wherever, yet always living in OZ, a world I invite you into. To smile in front of our screens (and live one day), put any kind of questions, answer in writing (or imagination) and marvel at fashion which is, in fact, style.


View All Articles

Leave a Reply

Your email address will not be published. Required fields are marked *