Bridget In My Room

Door’s on the latch, not open and not locked, the hour where you can still change your mind about going home and you are standing in the kitchen in socks trying to decide.

Rainier’s Bridget In My Room is two tracks for that exact weather. No big-room flex, no one asking you to prove you were there. Low lights, someone in the next room who might come in and might not, drums that know how to wait. I keep putting the second one on when I’m doing nothing that would look like a night out (filling a glass, taking off a earring) and it still feels like one.

If j'adore was the car, this is the apartment: shoes off, music still going. Bridget can stay as long as she wants. I have not been rushing her.