It's an enticing idea to erase 10 years instantly in one swift, overused sentence "30 is the new 20". How lucky we are, it seems, to revel in modern technology and have access to all things youth enhancing that our 30's paychecks enable us (cocktails, cigarettes and stress swept nicely under the preventable aging carpet). It seems plausible to stop the clock, rewind and laugh at our genius selves in our white lab coat world. But 30 is not the new 20, nor is it the old 20, the left 20, the right 20, the funny 20, the sad 20 or anything in between. 30 is 30... and it is fucking brilliant.

30 is a wonderland of incredible feats often left off bucket lists - certainty, clarity, acceptance, intelligence, honesty. 30 means discovering the core beneath the layers, the truth behind the trying. It is knowing oneself. It is a guarantee that no matter what unfolds, it will be dealt with. It is the comfort in believing that whatever path presents itself, it will be navigated by feet that have walked in the jungle of mistake and heart-ache and have strengthened with every step. 30 means every ideal cocooned within the naive psyche of youth has been freed. 30 is evolved. 30 is fearless. 30 is real; the farce has disappeared, the meticulous identity crafting of the teen years now just an exhausting memory. 30 is not caring who is watching, it is wearing the ridiculous hat you love so damn much, it is putting up that painting on the wall you know is far from a Monet but it makes your soul happy. 30 is rediscovering the child within and realising you finally have the confidence to play. The arrival of the big 3 0 dissipates the need to control, to stage, to live for an image or perception. Everything that once mattered is suddenly just a shrinking balloon floating up into the big blue sky; perspective, beautiful, peaceful perspective.