“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.