Once Upon A Fine

If you’ve ever dreamed of embracing the minimalist lifestyle, I recommend packing to move abroad. My whole life is currently housed in two suitcases and a duffel bag. Yes, that’s all I’m able to take. Initially, this horrified my inner book-hoarder, but upon reflection, airplane weight limits might be the best thing to have happened to me.

Here’s the thing: I have too many books and too many shoes (this is what happens when a. you’ve worked at a bookshop, and b. one of your best friends owns a shoe store). I made great inroads into decluttering my life this summer, but despite multiple trips to buy-back bookshops and Goodwill, my closet is still full and my bookcases are – if not quite overflowing anymore – very well-stocked. I know no one needs seventy pairs of shoes and literally hundreds of books, and yet... How on earth could I manage to narrow down what to pack for this move? After all, don’t I need my copy of Wollstonecraft’s Vindications with me at all times?! Isn’t anxiety everyone’s normal response to looking at their too-crowded bookshelves?

The prep for this move was like that advice everyone gives about writing: just think about other things because your brain will work out problems while you sleep. My brain worked all summer, so when the day came to actually put the things into the bags, I knew pretty well what to pack. It still took the better part of two days to successfully win suitcase Tetris, but I did it.

I stuffed my whole life into just two suitcases and a duffel bag. There are definitely things I wish I could’ve packed (chief among them a flapper-style dress and a pair of rainbow heels), but when I look at those bags, I realize I have everything I need. I have an umbrella to protect me from the rain, a coat to shield me from the cold, a nice black dress to wear in any situation, sturdy boots, a pair of ballet flats, and a swimsuit – just in case. I have a toy plush tuxedo cat to hug, since I have to leave Felix in the States; I have a snickerdoodle-scented Jane Bennet candle. These staples, these treasures, warm me through. Everything I need. How lucky am I? In this realization, I feel a sense of gratitude and peace beyond measure.

(And okay, yes, I did bring about a shelf’s worth of books. You can take the girl out of the bookshop…)

(The few little things I fit in my suitcase to help me stave off homesickness: a wallet I got ages ago from Modcloth; a comfort read, Betsy and the Great World, by Maud Hart Lovelace; a Jane Bennet candle from Paper & Slate by Mary Kate Wiles; a print of "Harry Potter Skate Night" by Casey Robin Art. Photographed by me.)

There are many ways to start a story.

You might begin by musing on how the present moment is both superlatively good and superlatively bad. You could start with an observation on the absolute importance of marriage to a person with quite a bit of money or state definitely that two very dull people who live on Privet Drive think themselves entirely normal. You might simply have a character name themself. These are all good starts.

But perhaps the most well-known start to any story begins, “Once upon a time…” Anything can happen after “Once upon a time.” Maybe there will be a cat with fantastic footwear, or princesses who find an underground world of silver trees and carefree nights of endless dancing. Perhaps there will be a poisoned comb and apple.

(After all, most fairy tales have witches, beasts, and cruelty alongside magic, beauty, and romance.)

A week from today I am beginning my latest “Once upon a time.” A week from today I will leave behind my life in the United States and begin a new life in London. A week from today I will move to England to start a PhD program. I’ll be researching childhood culture, fashion, and fairy tales -- in particular, Cinderella adaptations. I got lucky. I have some incredible people in my life who helped me turn a simple pumpkin into a golden carriage. And I know that now, for better or worse, anything might happen.

(I’m going to miss my cat so much.)

The funny thing, though, is that no story truly begins at its “Once upon a time.” Before those words were uttered and all that followed followed, a shoemaker must have made a pair of boots. Princesses must have had dancing lessons. Someone must have planted an apple tree that grew in sunshine and rain. There’s always something that comes before that iconic opening phrase; “Once upon a time” is just where the narrative begins for readers, for listeners.

I’ve written many stories before now. I’ve had several blogs, and gone through thousands of sheets of paper in dozens of handwritten journals. I’ve recounted countless tales in e-mails and letters and Facebook messages and texts. But the best thing I’ve found is that there’s always a new story to live, then to tell.

And I can’t wait to tell this next story. I’m nearly certain it’s a story that includes afternoon tea and evening cocktails. I want this to be a tale of days spent reading in libraries and archives that lead to late nights formulating ideas that change the way I see the world. I’m hopeful that this narrative includes meeting people who become lifelong friends and that it includes adventures with people who already are lifelong friends. And, if I’m honest, most likely it will have a generous dollop of culture shock amid other misfortunes of varying degrees. I want to invite you into this story. Once upon a time.

Call me Abigail.

(Disney Art Deco Cinderella in front of Cinderella: A Casebook by Alan Dundes, photographed by me. A perfectly inspirational present from my parents as I begin my PhD!)