Wednesday, July 13, 2011


It took until the 4th of July for the summer heat to finally set in. And I, giving into a recent need to be contrary as much as possible, have spent most of my time since then in sweaters.

When I stopped working in Greenwich, CT in August of 2007, I began to purge my closet of that East Coast summertime staple, the polo shirt, which had dominated my warm weather wardrobe since middle school. (I used to have a penchant for doing as the Romans did. Thankfully the tumult of the past few years has led to some positive changes that counteract the bitter taste of the negative ones.) Along with the polos went the tees and tanks, which when not playing the part of layering piece simply made me look rather messy and unfortunately lumpy.

Of course all of that sidelining and purging only added to my anxiety around warm-weather dressing. Though they prove their usefulness again and again, not every problem can be solved by the dresses that litter my closet. Lightweight sweaters have proven to be my salvation.

On days when I pull on some shorts, roll up my sweater sleeves and throw on some flats, I get a lot of questions. "Aren't you hot? Don't you realize that it's mid-July?" I tilt my head to the side and think of how airy the linen feels, how it sits away from my skin and how easily those rare breezes flow through things like these.

By Sparrow

By A.P.C.

I shake my head for no and then I nod it for yes.

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