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stephanie saffa simon

@stephssimon

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writer | cultural strategist
fmr: hooper, lawyer, banker
ex: beats, clubhouse, farfetch

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HŌME | BLACK ROCK CITY 2025

On the eve of many thousands’ annual pilgrimage to the Playa, @normal_dylan finally gifted us his much anticipated photos from last year’s Burn at HŌME. (Good things, those who wait, etc. but I am an impatient little shit).

Maybe it’s the almost 40 nights I’ve spent on Hydra, but I’m turning into an old Greek man, looking up the Greek origin of every word I come across.

Nostalgia comes from nostos: homecoming, or the return home. And algos: ache, or pain.

An ache for homecoming (Homer took 24 books to explain it).

Last night, as these photos arrived, I was doing what many of us have been doing these past 24 hours: holding on to the magic of Dolly Parton. I ended up listening to an episode of Dolly Parton’s America (HIGHLY recommend) about nostalgia, belonging, and the Tennessee mountain home she sang about her whole life.

At one point she’s asked how that home could still feel so close when she left it more than fifty years ago.

“Well, I never left it.”

Three years ago, when @leonpki and @jasondgustafson were talking about starting a camp, I suggested the name HŌME. I’d love to say it was inspired by Odysseus or some ancient human longing to return home. ŌMMMM.

The truth is, I just loved the idea of someone asking:

“Where are you camping?”

“Home.”

A little Who’s on First? action. On psychedelics…imagine.

“Where?” “Home.” “Your camp?” “Home.” “Huh?” “HŌME.”

And maybe, for those of us who stayed at HŌME, a reminder of whatever place came to mind when we said the word.

I won’t be returning to the Burn this year. Neither will HŌME. Not because Burning Man is “over,” or because “it’s gotten too commercial”, as people who have never stepped foot on the playa like to say.

It was just time to take a year off.

But looking through these photographs, there’s undoubtedly an ache for this place, these people, this strange little home we make together in the dust.

Maybe that’s the beautiful thing about nostalgia.

It doesn’t always mean you need to go back. It just means you were home.

Sorry, Homer. Dolly was, and will always be, right.

📸: our resident HŌME historian @normal_dylan by @stephssimon

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a month ago

PUGLIA | POST-POLIFONIC

Shot on film by @leonpki. taken in Puglia, Italy by @stephssimon

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2 months ago

When I first met @lindseyvonn, there was instant shit-talking, knee-scar comparisons and I’m pretty sure I punched her on the shoulder (she didn’t flinch). One of those “oh—we gonna be friendsss” moments.

We were at a women’s retreat of sorts when she asked if I wanted to go to the gym with her. I laughed. Absolutely NOT. I was not going to the gym with Lindsey F*cking Vonn. I hadn’t done Olympic lifts in years. Turns out, neither had she.

At that point, I knew Linds had been retired for some time and had recently had a partial knee replacement. What I didn’t know, was that she was also quietly plotting a comeback—eyeing the 2026 Winter Olympics.

A retired athlete in her 40s, with a bionic knee, putting her skis back at 80 kph? “Impossible”, they said.

Over the past two years, I’ve watched her relentlessly do it anyway.

•

This weekend, I made the trek to Val d’Isère to watch the World Cup—one of several stops on her road to the Olympics. After winning the downhill in St. Moritz last weekend (not a dry eye), she snagged two more podium finishes. 4 out of 5 podiums for everyone following along at home (!).

As I roamed around the team area with pink hair and a neon ’80s ski suit - Lindsey’s boots slung over my shoulder - people kept asking who the hell I was. (Ok so I’ve never been great at being incognito.)

Linds laughed and told them, “She’s my guru.”
The joke, of course, was on her. Watching her comeback up close has been one of the most inspiring things I’ve ever witnessed. (Every guru needs a guru - hey?)

I’ve heard from many who say it feels like she’s carrying the torch for so many of “us.” Not just us women. Not just us in our 40s. But any of US willing to run our own race - and yes maybe plot comebacks…or come ups.

As we packed up on the last day, @tchapaloute motioned to take a photo of us. I leaned in and smiled, and Lindsey, unsatisfied, said, “HOLD THE TROPHY WITH ME, STEPH!”

To my bionic sister: thank you for carrying the torch and sharing your trophies. Love you so and LFGGOOOOooo. taken in Val-d'Isère by @stephssimon

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9 months ago

THANK YOU, THANK YOU, THANK YOU.

I moved into this house two weeks after a rupture that split my life — and my heart — wide open.
It marked the beginning of 2.5 years of grief, growth, reckoning, and remembering.
And this little nest — quiet and constant — held me throughout.

I’ve been standing at the threshold of the elusive “next chapter” for a while now. But when I found out the owner of my home wanted to move back in, it seemed a greater force had stepped in and whispered: it’s time.

A friend recently shared a mantra he often returns to:
“At every moment — whether it feels utterly impossible or perfectly joyous — I meditatively repeat to myself:
thank you, thank you, thank you.
Even when — thank you. Even now — thank you.”

The friend was kindly nudging grace in a moment when my Stephanie necklace — the nameplate I’d worn every day for almost nine years — suddenly snapped as I was dancing at sunrise.

I’d worn it so long I’d forgotten it was a gift from my ex.
A final thread that bound us.

Music throbbing in the background, surrounded by so many people I love, I hurled the broken chain off the side of the cliff, into the ocean —releasing the weight of a story I’d carried around my neck and heart for far too long.

This week, as I pack up and turn the page,
I keep that prayer of gratitude on my tongue cherishing every corner of this house:

Mornings in my kitchen —
Patrick Watson, Otis Redding and Jeff Buckley taking turns making me coffee. Sunlight visibly blessing my peonies as Copal lingered in the air.

Afternoons, body heavy with heartbreak on my daybed,
silently watching clouds pass overhead through the skylights, time thick and slow.

Evenings painting in my studio —
Venetian Red stained my fingernails and face — a ceremony transmuting loss and love into color.

Hours smoking in my courtyard —
loose tobacco littered around me —
staring at my reflection and changing perception of myself through the darkened windows.

This house has been a cocoon, a church, a container.
A place I collapsed and have slowly rebuilt.

And for the version of me that will walk out this door — cowboy boots firmly on my feet —
THANK YOU, THANK YOU, THANK YOU. taken in London, United Kingdom by @stephssimon

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a year ago

@nickfouquet —brother, conspirator, mirror.

Thank you for inviting me to be part of your 10-year anniversary campaign—for bringing me to Paris with @martingattistudio, into the work, into the world you’ve been building with such care.

I was deeply honored and touched when you shared that @dunevoltairelova and I have acted as muses—that we are the heroines in the story of Nick Fouquet.
And what a story—told by an authentic French-Californian cowboy ;)

What I’ve learned from you, and from watching how you create—how you observe and alchemize everything around you—is that inspiration isn’t always something that’s taken. It shows up in the exchange between people.

Yes, we all have muses. But the real magic happens when an artist realizes THEY ARE THEIR OWN MUSE—when the source is internal, and the world simply reflects it back.

I’ve always believed that style isn’t about the product itself, but about how a person wears it—what they bring to it, how they live in it. I’m less interested in the object than in what people do with it.

You are a true craftsman. You make beautiful things, but you leave room for them to become stories—to hold memory and to carry the spirit of the person who owns them and wears them.

Here’s to ten years of trusting yourself and the exchange that makes art feel alive.

Love you 🤍 taken in Paris, France by @stephssimon

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9 months ago

A weekend of Mapping Revelations. So moved by the magic you created in the French countryside @courtroberts__ @ririharfoush and @aterrien. You carried a sense Future Ancestry so beautifully throughout @chateau_du_fey.

Of the many revelations over my days in the forest - perhaps my favorite was a quote by James Baldwin shared by @adam.delehanty.

“My inheritance was particular, specifically limited and limiting; my birthright was vast, connecting me to all that lives, and to everyone, forever.

But one cannot claim the birthright without accepting the inheritance.”

I will be revisiting this again and again.

📸 MERCI @benjaminhenretig by @stephssimon

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3 months ago

Queen @veracolombo: every year we are invited to celebrate the incredible human that you are - I leave thinking “that can’t be outdone” - until of course the next year rolls around.

The care you put into creating and nurturing a magical mystery tour of PLAY is unparalleled. And of course for us little ravers - a big part of play is beats, the beats, oh and THE BEATS. Grateful to be part of the true love story of your life my girl.

📸 @shecansee ⚡️ taken in Ibiza, Spain by @stephssimon

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a year ago

skiatos greece | 2026 taken in Lalaria Beach Skiathos by @stephssimon

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2 months ago

2 0 2 5 | A PRACTICE IN HUMAN C O N T A C T by @stephssimon

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9 months ago

SUMMIT @ SEA 2026.

We come for the people. And return for the people.

Some things don’t change…they get better.

Through the lens of @laurentlevy. taken in Bimini, The Bahamas by @stephssimon

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5 months ago

Light-leaked Ma/Ré.
Shot on film by our brilliant @dominoe.farris. taken in Burgundy, France by @stephssimon

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3 months ago

I’m not usually one to fangirl at these sorts of things.

I prefer to observe the Hollywood circus from a healthy distance (and height, the boots help). But last night I couldn’t help myself.

I walked straight up to THE BOYS of @heatedrivalrycrave, gushed about their brilliant micro-expressions, congratulated them on their wild ride and confessed: I’ve never been so turned on by male-on-male sex — a revelation that has almost certainly expanded my….ahem…palate? AND I have a feeling…I’m not the only one.

They squealed, congratulated me (!), and gave me a hug. Overshare? Yes. Oddly Proud? I mean yes. I think so, probably. taken in Bar Marmont West Hollywood by @stephssimon

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9 months ago