Attention readers! The day has finally come and gone. After months and months of anticipation and weekend after weekend of staying in, I turned 21.

The existential landmark in every young American’s life and I finally overcame it.

Living in the United States, 21 is not simple another birthday. Instead, it is a rite of passage. 21 grants all of the privileges being a full blown adult. You can drive, vote, see R rated movies, and drink alcohol. Granted, you still can’t rent a car, but given my recent experience with car rental companies, consider it a blessing. Also if you’re ever in Las Vegas, avoid Fox Rent a Car at all costs.

21 is going out to the bar with your friends.

21 is being allowed to rent a hotel room on your own.

21 is being let into the casino.

But 21 is more than that.

21 is the separation between seniors and freshmen.

21 is the declaration that you are now mature enough to handle all of the things you have been taught your entire life were bad.

So here I am. 21. Despite this newfound responsibility I have been granted by the U.S. of A, I don’ t feel any different. Aside from a multitude of people wishing me a happy birthday, my day was completely normal day.

A beam of light did not shine through the clouds. Scales didn’t fall from my eyes.

I woke up the same and I went to bed the same, except that I didn’t.

My life is now dramatically different than it was before and that is just because of one birthday. I mean I don’t know anything about wine. Normally I just take a sip from what my parents have to drink and call it a day. How am I supposed to know what all these French words mean? Forget about what they mean, how am I supposed to know to pronounce them?

21 is accompanied with delusions of grandeur, delusions so pervasive they compelled me to look the waiter in the eye and ask “Can we have a bottle of the Pinot Noir?” all without realizing I had murdered the French “r” with what I thought was only a subtle Midwestern accent.

Wait you mean to tell me turning 21 doesn’t automatically grant you with the grace of Audrey Hepburn and the charm of Sarah Jessica Parker? The answer: Sadly no.

21 is ordering a martini, wanting to look refined but not realizing how disgusting a martini actually is.

21 is pretending you know what you’re doing when really you’re copying those around you.

21 is glancing at your dad for help when the waiter asks you to sample the wine.

21 is not knowing what you’re doing, but doing it anyway.

Outfit Details:

Banana Republic | Piperlime (now out of business sorry) | J.Crew