As you read this, please imagine us in one of your kitchens, each holding a warm mug of something, ready to bare the souls that lay beneath our cozy September sweaters. Because that’s how you make me feel. At home. No matter where I am.

I adored your words before I knew they were yours, before I knew that words would put food on my own table one day. Your words always ushered in a sigh of relief, much like the words that would come to define you in my mind: cozy, comfy, home

So of course I’m obsessed with THE HOLIDAY, your film about two women who swap homes – ultimately just trying to feel at home within themselves. That’s all I’ve ever tried to do. When I moved to LA, everything felt foreign. I was so far from every home I’d ever known. Would this town ever feel familiar?

Cue The Santa Anas.

Who knew gale force winds could make me so happy? Turns out, your love letter to Hollywood – old and new – was the meet cute that LA and I needed.

Today, I’m proud to say that my Jasper is long gone. And that my favorite lipstick is MAC’s version of “Berry Kiss.” I chose my apartment because it felt like Iris’ cottage – the space and the fact that I could see myself sleeping with Jude Law there. But mostly the space.

The pieces of myself that I see in Iris are no longer the sad ones. There’s a comfort that comes from that, a new cozy layer to add to the pile of handmade blankets you’ve already covered me with over the years.

Thank you for showing me how to be at home. How to nurture my own space. And to only share it with those who are worthy. Both my cozy Jude Law love nest… and the home within.

With Love and Gumption,
Toby