“Life should not be a journey to the grave with the intention of arriving safely in a pretty and well preserved body, but rather to skid in broadside in a cloud of smoke, thoroughly used up, totally worn out, and loudly proclaiming “Wow! What a ride!”

Hunter S. Thompson famously tripped into Las Vegas back in 1971, and while I’m not condoning his level of hedonism, I do intend to ‘buy the ticket, take the ride’ these holidays. Far into the desert, that is, where a mirage of neon lights and restless spirits lie in wait. What better place to bring in the new year than the city that treats every day like a party?

Escaping …
You can fly direct into Vegas but I prefer the drive – there is something both enchanting and unsettling about such vast desert spaces that can only be felt at ground level. Packing tips à la Thompson call for Double Rainbouu’s bright party shirts, Acne’s acid yellow tinted shades, a bucket hat courtesy Albus Lumen and Bruce Springsteen (a personal favourite) soundtracking the cruise.

Celebrating …
However you feel about the New Year’s Eve spectacle, at its core lies an opportunity to celebrate with loved ones. To shed the burdens of year before, to share a dance with the souls that dragged you through and seize the opportunity to start all over again. My clean slate looks like Jason Wu’s crimson slip dress, a lick of Dior liner and 10+ hours of solid grooving. Less Fear and Loathing, more I Wanna Dance with Somebody.

Essentials …
Dresses from Attico (crystal-laden if possible), Ryan Storer earrings, Miu Miu heels (mid-height for optimum longevity), a Maison Margiela scent, a 1800 Reposado tequila in hand and a silk eye mask for when I’m feeling thoroughly used up, totally worn out, and my bed finally beckons. Wow. What a ride.