Miist’s recent work has repeatedly returned to disconnection. “Love Will Show Us Our Way”
addressed it through footage of people helping strangers, checking in with friends, sharing
meals, and offering comfort. Her new single, “I Think I Lost a Day,” approaches the same
concern through a far less earnest scenario: she oversleeps and runs into a strangely relaxed
version of the 1970s.
That shift in tone is useful. A message about slowing down can become self-defeating when
delivered as another serious instruction. Miist and producer Tayte Nickols instead shape the
subject into bright, unruly pop, supported by Los Angeles band Familiar Faces and a chorus that
treats momentary confusion with patience.
The lyrics begin with surreal questions. Miist cannot tell what she is passing or whether it was
yesterday, and she suspects someone may have moved her house and dog. These images
exaggerate the strange detachment that arrives when one day resembles the next and attention
has been divided among too many competing demands.
In the video, that detachment becomes a clash of eras. Miist rushes through Los Angeles after
waking late, but the world around her has a strong 1970s character. The styling is playful, and
the atmosphere seems almost deliberately resistant to her urgency. People gather and make
music while she continues behaving as though the next missed appointment might be catastrophic.
Gradually, the song moves from losing a day toward finding a person. Miist repeats her desire to
return to today and eventually to “you.” The progression clarifies what is actually absent. The
day itself is less important than the connection she has failed to experience while moving
through it.
This places the single squarely within The Love Project without making it sound like a
restatement of its first release. “Love Will Show Us Our Way” placed acts of care at the center of
the frame. “I Think I Lost a Day” examines the internal clutter that can keep someone from
carrying out those acts or receiving them from others.
Miist’s related work follows a similar logic. Make Me Smile with Miist ends its chapters with 15-
second actions, while the World Smile Initiative’s Kindness Kube offers simple prompts involving gratitude, play, kindness, and affection. The underlying belief is that reconnection should be
accessible during an ordinary day, including one that has already gone off course.
By the video’s conclusion, Miist joins the 1970s crew and begins singing with them. It is a comic
resolution with a coherent place in her wider project. Presence is presented as something
people can re-enter. The route back may begin with putting down the schedule and accepting
an invitation to stay.
