Flip Flop

As we find ourselves in day I don’t know how many it’s been, but it’s fucking hot of this heat wave, I’ve continued to think of fall. I spent most of yesterday having daydreams about the type of weather that would allow me to wear my chambray shorts with brightly hued tights (mustard yellow or dusty rose) and ballet flats. Two days earlier, my glove obsession reappeared out of nowhere. Well not nowhere. These helped.


As did these.


Yet last week, near the tail end of the rains, all I wanted were sundresses and shorts and the espadrilles that I’ve gone all of spring and summer without wearing once.

It’s the feeling of the season. That restlessness that comes as everything moves between changing and staying exactly as it was. I, and everyone else who spends an abundance of time talking and thinking about clothes, have a tendency to overuse the phrase transitional piece. Those items, the sweater jackets and booties and medium-weight knits, are really pieces that fit everywhere and nowhere all at once. That deal adeptly with the sometimes schizophrenic tendencies of the wasteland that exists between seasons.

We hate the heat, but we’ll miss it when it’s gone.


Photos via