I turn 50. No party.

It turns into the most disastrous birthday party of my life and, at the same time, probably the best day of my life so far. The party descends into chaos. Guests don’t show up. The fitters don’t install what was supposed to be finished. My food and drink delivery goes completely wrong. And at midday, the idiot that I am, I still think sanding the floor is a good idea. No. It wasn’t.

The House of Julius Meinl, and above all the amazing people there, help me out of the worst of the disaster. No fuss.

What’s left is (not) a party. But the Puck-Häuser are almost finished and fully functional, at least, in the form of websites for all my babies: puck.page, edition1010.wien, puck.house and my passion project, puck.salon. Digital first. A huge opening without a party.

The most beautiful moments of the day are the ones that bring the most tears. My ex-husband sends me an incredibly moving birthday message. My “oldest” friend, whom I’ve lost far too much touch with over the past few years, sees me in her message as I really am today.

A colleague from the advertising industry tells me in a voice message that she went through pretty much the same shit when she turned 50. And that I can be sure: the second half will be the decisive one.

I hear that a few times that day. Always from people who know what they’re talking about. Until then, I hadn’t realised they knew.

A full stop at the end of the first half of what I hope will be three. Because now I want to live to 150. Well then, I’m already looking forward to the third half. That’ll start “soon” too. Time feels more relative today than ever.