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With each drop of rain the promise of summer seems further from the truth. And somehow when the sun comes out its agreement to stay and linger feels fraudulent. There is no end in sight. Mid-May and we were heading for the record cold temperature of all time, the most amount of days without warmth. My Wellies lay in the corner cracked and overused. They are my transportation in these months. They get me from A to B and above them is the classic trench tightly banded around the waist. For those of us in fashion, we know, spring is like puberty.
The anticipation is hellish and wet. The day’s wardrobe is a jumble of confusion brought on by the awkward feelings that are culminating. I want to bare my skin! I start there, with my skin. Then, I layer a lace cami, over it a low-cut silk tee. The worm’s fibers will keep me warm without looking bundled. But now my neck is cold, how about that never ending floral scarf from Paris? Yes, that feels like spring, but what about below. I long for a short skirt or shorts. They look so comely, so sexy, so untouched and innocent at the same time. I can’t possibly show these awkwardly pale legs that have yet to reach their summer potential. It seems unfair to put the shorts off; literally, so I pull on a pair of leggings, (Have you seen the sheer ones with the stirrups?) and then layer the shorts over. And with this outfit I have successfully fooled myself into thinking… just in case the sun comes out, I will be ready to peel myself like an orange.
Because summer is like first love. The heat swells in us like a hot sweet fruit, juice falling from the corners of our mouths.
The anticipation is hellish and wet. The day’s wardrobe is a jumble of confusion brought on by the awkward feelings that are culminating. I want to bare my skin! I start there, with my skin. Then, I layer a lace cami, over it a low-cut silk tee. The worm’s fibers will keep me warm without looking bundled. But now my neck is cold, how about that never ending floral scarf from Paris? Yes, that feels like spring, but what about below. I long for a short skirt or shorts. They look so comely, so sexy, so untouched and innocent at the same time. I can’t possibly show these awkwardly pale legs that have yet to reach their summer potential. It seems unfair to put the shorts off; literally, so I pull on a pair of leggings, (Have you seen the sheer ones with the stirrups?) and then layer the shorts over. And with this outfit I have successfully fooled myself into thinking… just in case the sun comes out, I will be ready to peel myself like an orange.
Because summer is like first love. The heat swells in us like a hot sweet fruit, juice falling from the corners of our mouths.
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