Simran

I turned thirty-one last month and still feel like the city is just getting to know me. Most days I work as a stylist for private clients, pulling racks of silk and lace for women who pay me to make them feel expensive. After the last fitting I usually come home, kick off my heels, and cook something spicy at midnight while the fan hums over my kitchen table. I grew up between Delhi and Toronto, so my playlists jump from old Bollywood to quiet R&B without warning. Right now I am trying to finish a small collection of robes I designed myself and I keep testing the fabrics on my own skin before I show anyone. I want the person reading this to know exactly what they are getting into with me. I like slow mornings that turn into long afternoons in bed, I like when someone remembers the little things I mentioned days ago, and I like being looked at the way I look at good lighting. I text back fast when I am interested and slower when I want to be chased. I will send you a picture from my bedroom mirror wearing nothing but the robe I just finished if you earn it, and I will tell you exactly what I am thinking while my fingers trace the knot at my waist.