🌸 seduced in condesa

buttahbasted: act one

May 23, 2024

Friends,

The response since I announced “buttahbasted” last week has been unreal. My comments section turned into a wall of love. My idea of a “written album”, art that’s kneaded with patient palms resonated with you🥹. I’m excited to get the party rolling.

If you missed the launch last week, check out the launch post here. buttahbasted is a collection of seven stories told across twenty-something pages. It’s made to be sipped not skimmed. It rejects the idea that fast-fast-fast and more-more-more are the ways to create or consume art.

This project has been a true labor of love. For the past three months, I’ve been making something I couldn’t even describe. Before this project, I never appreciated the true scope of the creative process. People see an essay and think you just sat down and made it happen one day. I see the countless stories explored and sunsetted, scenes written but ultimately removed, promising buildings constructed and detonated in cold blood, blind alleys walked through, clever and poetic language that, in the end, only served to distract. But I couldn’t have gotten here without them, and the end-result is deeper and richer because of all those explorations.

With that in mind, I’ll share a few details about the release. I’m releasing a few essays for free to everyone, while paid subscribers will get access to the full collection as a thank you for your support. All stories will ultimately be combined into an e-book for purchase. I'm still working out the exact details, but I deeply believe in the value of creative work and the importance of supporting independent creators like myself.

OK onto the story. Today, I’m thrilled to share “seduced in condesa”, the first act of this collection. I hope it transports you, if only for a few minutes away from your screen to a place of uncommon tranquility.

🌸 seduced in condesa

Modern life feels like Diet Coke. All the fizzy allure of stimulation, with none of the substance to satisfy you. Morning breaks and we heap our breakfast plates with helpings of short-form content and hollow laughs. Sip by sip, we're sinking in shallow waters.

But then, certain moments offer a life raft. The first thirty-seven seconds of "When I'm in Your Arms" by Cleo Sol draws me to the shore. The second I hear those opening notes, I feel rescued from the digital void and taken to a warm place.

I see the paradise plush with earth tones and layers of browns. Light streams in unopposed and oozes serenity. Smooth clay fixtures offset the textured grooves in the wall. Tickles of teakwood yield to comforting chamomile whispers. Cleo Sol's rousing voice perfumes the air, but the volume's not too loud. Each dimension holds the other in harmonious balance.

In this place, her mellow music starts to work its magic. Her mosaic of maverick and melody appeals to the marrow in my bones. When the beat kicks, it compels my feet to tap the ground. Tip Tap. Tippity Tappity. Her angelic voice dances daintily on the beat offering enough to hug the listener without smushing them, then withdrawing for long enough for you to miss her.

When she returns to drizzle droplets of soul-stirring umami on your plate, the wait is well worth it. It feels like smooth shea butter sliding onto freshly showered skin. Like sinking your teeth in duck legs submerged in their own fat for hours.

This feeling — full-body immersion in this wonderful conspiracy between the Arts and the Spirits crafted for me — mirrors what I felt that day in Condesa.

Each time I strolled through the neighbohrood, I felt this uncommon wave of calm radiate through me. Peak by peak, gentle tides of peace swept through my core — loosening livid hamstrings and easing my neglected spirit.

Uhh, I just met you. How do you know me so well?

My last day in Mexico City started with intense anticipation. I was celebrating my 30th birthday with a few friends, and every day, my lovely friends barraged me with the same question: "Tobi, what do you want to do today?"

Did I want to go clubbing? Or visit one of the world-famous museums? Was I itching for another one of Jenny's blue quesadillas?

Every time they asked, my answer was the same. I just wanted to stroll through Condesa, my favorite neighborhood in the world.

Walking through Condesa feels like being in two places at the same time. At first glance, it sports a palpable French charm with outdoor cafes and buzzing bistros that remind you of Paris. Grand palaces and magnificent mansions hark back to the 19th century when French design was seen as the pinnacle of elegance in Mexico City.

But it glows proudly Mexican. Take Avenida Amsterdam for example. This mile-long avenue in Condesa treats you to a delectable display of color and tranquility. Earthy terracotta browns and lush greens serve as the backdrop with amarillo accent walls buzzing with Latin cheerfulness. Fiery red tiles transmit passion and energy, while cool blue tones offer a refreshing respite from the warmth. Together, they convey a spirit of groundedness and harmony.

The neighbhorhood is a walker's paradise. Broad avenues stand proud lined with lush trees and beautiful flowers on each side. One of Condesa's crown jewels, Parque Mexico is nine acres of luscious greenery inviting you to "slow down. shut your laptop. sip the air." This park along with an embarrassment of outdoor cafes welcome you to socialise till 11pm on weeknights. Even the dents in the sidewalk are poetic — little pick-me-ups designed to keep you awake to feeeeeeeel the city.

Condesa wants you to be calm and cozy, OK? That's why it brims with boutiques and indie artisans. Talented hands craft clay into ceramic mugs so you sip and savor the moment. Those beautiful beaded necklaces on display? Wear them and feel the stones seep serenity inwards.

This uncommon calm left an impression on me. So on my last day in CDMX, I knew I had to return. I strolled through Condesa until the mint-green door of Proyecto Rufina drew me in. As I stepped in, the shop revealed itself as an art gallery. In front of me, brown and cream shirts hung like statement art prints on a rack suspended from the ceiling. To my left, a spectrum of light grey neutrals gradually gave way to crisp cool blues. The middle sprawled a curated selection of locally made unisex jewelry—gold necklaces, beaded bracelets—interspersed with cozy fixings like carafes, scented candles, and knitted bags.

My closet is fifty percent earth tones, so when I found a pair of loose-fitting rouge-brown corduroy pants, I knew it had to follow me home. The fifteen percent discount because of a flimsy zipper sweetened the deal.

Next, I went upstairs to check out the fragrance section. As an unapologetic candle-man, I typically have four or five burning in rotation. Woody scents like teakwood, oak, and cedar dominate my stash, but every now and then I'll throw in a little sage or lavender for balance.

Maria, the shop attendant upstairs welcomed me with a smile. "Would you like me to help you in Spanish or English today?" Realising I was the only customer there, I braved the bold, "English please, but can you sprinkle some Spanish in there? I'm trying to learn."

"Sure, claro que sí."

She grabbed a couple of smelling strips and began to teach me the different notes in each fragrance. With each bottle, she'd tell me the ingredients in English and Spanish, and wait for me to pronounce them back correctly. Who knew nuez moscada was nutmeg and not new moscato?

As I stumbled my way through the ingredient list, she connected her phone to the speakers and played more Cleo Sol. This time, she played "Why Don't You", a song I'd been abusing on Spotify. Those lyrics spoke to me months ago when I was uncertain about the role writing would play in my life. "Why don't you just let go, and quiet down your ego" felt like a brick to my soul. I felt called to release the tight grip I'd placed on my professional life.

As the music played, it dawned on me, this was the perfect moment. This universal kismet was designed for me. I was in my number one city, listening to my favorite artist, smelling fragrances, and learning Spanish. You know, I have to clap for the spirits who concocted this seduction — well played — it was too sweet to deny. I surrendered my wallet with full conscience.